Mixed Nuts

by Venita Louise

  “Will you put that thing in the trunk of your car while I look for a place?”

  Gene snorted and strode up to take the phone book away from Frank. “Why don’t you put it in the car while I look for a place?”

  “Fine,” Frank said and turned to walk to the door. He stopped. “What are you going to look under?”

  “Never you mind, just let my fingers do the walking.” Gene snagged his keys from the kitchen counter. “Put it in the trunk will you? I don’t want that thing staring at me while I’m driving.” He threw the keys, and Frank caught them one handed.

  A small bell tinkled as they opened the door of the shop. The sweet smell of incense surrounded them upon entering and the scent of perfumed candles mingled with it. Brass candleholders sparkled in the morning sunlight, and strings of colorful beads swayed as the outside breeze floated in.

  “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Frank asked as he glanced around at the shelves of books, candles, bottles of herbs and oils.

  “May I help you?” A woman asked from behind the counter.

  Frank and Gene jumped nervously. It was if she had just appeared there. She was middle aged, maybe forty. She wore a white peasant style blouse and a long earth tone skirt with a flower design. Her long black curly hair was neatly tucked under a white scarf pulled taut over her head and tied at the base of her skull.

  “Uh, yes,” Frank said and looked at Gene. “I have something here that I thought you might be able to tell me about.” Frank set the article on the counter and looked at her.

  She stared at it for a long moment then said, “Someone is very angry with you.”

  Frank gave her a patient smile. “Yes, that much I know. But what does this mean?”

  “Someone has threatened you?” Her dark eyes flashed questioningly at Frank.

  “Yes. He said things may happen.”

  She grinned up at him. “His initials are T.T.?”

  “Yes!” Frank exclaimed.

  “Was he chewing on a root when said this?” she asked.

  Frank winced and shot her a puzzled look. “A root? No. I don’t know. He smashed a snail in my hand.”

  She threw her head back and laughed out loud.

  Frank and Gene stared at each other then back at her. It took some time for her to compose herself.

  “I can tell you that these things have begun to happen,” she said wiping a tear from her eye.

  “Perhaps first you can explain what is so funny about this,” Frank said struggling to contain his anger.

  She became silent and stared intensely into his eyes. “You must learn not to take yourself so seriously,” she finally said. “Celebrate the moments of your life.”

  “I’m sorry but when I’m awakened by my family’s screams upon seeing this monstrosity hanging on the front door, celebration is the last thing that comes to mind.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t know what it means,” Gene said solemnly.

  The woman smiled at Gene then disappeared through the rows of dangling beads into a back room. She came back carrying a small amber bottle.

  “Put this on your rash, you will be back in your pants by tomorrow.” She held the bottle out.

  “What rash?” Gene asked looking at Frank.

  She smiled warmly. “The crushed violets in the oil may even bring your lady friend back. That is if you will use it faithfully for seven weeks. Rub some on your gums, and you will find it very easy to wear your dentures.”

  Gene gazed curiously at the bottle. “What else is in it? Powdered lizard? Eye of Newt? Something poison?” He gingerly took the bottle from her fingers and held it up to the light. “Better things for better living through chemistry?”

  “You will find no chemicals in that bottle. Only natural ingredients are in my healing oils.” She took it back from him. “But … if you don’t want it.”

  “I didn’t say that.” He snatched the bottle back and wiggled the cork out with the tips of his fingers. “How much do I owe you?” He waved the bottle under his nose and breathed in the heady scent.

  “You come back and pay me after it works,” she said.

  Gene placed the cork back into the bottle and slid it into his shirt pocket. “What if it works and I forget to come back?” He gave her an impish smile.

  She eyed him like a panther stalking its prey. “I guarantee you will not forget.”

  Frank huffed out a breath. “I’m happy that you have an answer for Gene, but what about this?”

  The woman looked back at Frank and took several breaths. She closed her eyes and held out her hands with her palms up. “Put your hands in mine,” she said softly.

  Frank looked at Gene then slowly reached forward to rest his hands on top of hers.

  Her eyes snapped open. “You keep your side of the street clean?”

  “What?” Frank asked.

  A serious expression came over her face. “You have done nothing to deserve this hex?”

  “You think I deserve this?” He looked down at the counter.

  The woman smiled knowingly. “Close your eyes.”

  It could have been Frank’s imagination but it felt like her hands instantly warmed at least ten degrees. A tingling began at the center of his palms and swirled in clenching circles up his arms, over his shoulders and down his back. Her hands grew hotter and hotter until tiny beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. The back of his neck grew moist, and suddenly he wanted to turn and run. At the moment he thought he would have to break the connection, she spoke.

  “You will need to collect the dirt from this man’s footprint.”

  Frank pulled in a sharp breath and jerked his hands back. He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand and blinked.

  He slowly released the breath. “What? The dirt from his footprint? How do I get that?”

  She smiled and shrugged. “I always use a teaspoon.” She turned and took a sack from the shelf. “This is my special mix of goofer dust.”

  “What’s that?” Frank asked.

  “A secret mix for a jinx crossing.” She loosened the string that tied the top of the sack and opened it.

  The pungent smell caused Frank to cough. He pinched his nostrils together.

  “Once you mix this with the dirt from his footprint, he will have no choice but to leave town.”

  Frank gave her a skeptical look. “You want me to believe that some stinky powder mixed with dirt will make him leave town?” He shifted uncomfortably and looked up at the shelves. There were various sizes of sacks and bottles labeled respectively. ‘Devil’s shoestring, Mojo powder, Dragon’s blood, Valerian root, alligator tooth’. There were three shelves full of them, and some of the names he wouldn’t even try to pronounce.

  “Yes, you must believe.”

  “What have you got to lose?” Gene asked.

  The woman picked up the door hanging. “This is a very powerful curse,” she warned and gave him a serious look. “A chicken was sacrificed, and its head was nailed to the wood.” She traced the shape of the X in the center. “The feet were crossed below the head, just like a skull and crossbones.” She looked up to make sure she had his attention. “All these snail shells are surrounding the image of death, laced together by the devil’s shoestring root and sprinkled with the blood of the chicken.” She rotated a splayed hand over the top of it.

  Frank pursed his lips, and his eyebrows went up. “Yep.”

  “If you don’t do something, you will experience a terrible fate.” She shook her head sadly.

  Frank’s eyes widened, and he exchanged a fearful glance with Gene. “Like what?”

  “You don’t want to know but I will tell you that it will be worse than anything you could imagine, and it will last a very long time, maybe for the rest of your life.”

  Chapter Eight

  “She was interesting,” Gene said as he drove them back to the house.

  “I’ll say. Are you going to use the oil she gave you?” Frank asked.

 
Gene had an uneasy expression. “I’m afraid not to.” He looked pensive for a moment. “I hope it works, I’ll be glad to get rid of this rash.” He wriggled awkwardly in the seat.

  “Who’s going to do the honors?” Frank asked.

  Gene looked puzzled. “What?”

  “One of us has to collect the dirt from Tortuga’s footprint.” Frank held up a small packet of goofer dust. “And we have to get the rest of the things she named on this list.”

  “I’m the one with the car so I’ll get the rest of the stuff,” Gene said. “You get the dirt on him.”

  Frank nodded. “Just make sure,” he said laying the list on the seat next to Gene.

  “Make sure of what?” Gene asked.

  “It’s the real thing,” Frank said.

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” Gene assured him. “I listened to her instructions very carefully.”

  Frank stared out the window as they drove down the tree lined residential streets. They had lived in the neighborhood ever since Melinda was born. The trees along the parkway had flourished and matured from spindly saplings needing support from the fat rugged stakes lashed snugly at their sides to the thick branched renderings they were now, dusting the sky with their colorful broad leaves. Frank marveled at their strength, they were no longer in danger of snapping in the wind or being uprooted by a misguided bicycle. They had become the stability, the shade, the landmarks and the relationships in the neighborhood.

  “I’m supposed to have that jingle done by the end of the week. I haven’t worked on it at all.” He heaved a sigh. “I just bought that new car payment, and now I have writer’s block.”

  “What’s it about?” Gene asked.

  “Shoe polish.”

  “Why didn’t you say something when we were back at the shop?” Gene questioned. “Maybe that magic woman has something to cure it.”

  “I’ve had writer’s block before, I don’t need magic. I need an idea.”

  They turned the corner to Frank’s street, and Gene eased the car over to the curb to park. The front wheel climbed the curb then just as suddenly slipped back down causing the car to bounce in jerky response.

  “There’s Roberts’ in front of his house,” Frank said. “Honk your horn, I want to show him what his crazy gardener left on our door.”

  Gene tapped the horn, turned off the engine and hesitated before getting out. Frank couldn’t get out of the car fast enough and was already half way up the path to Roberts’ door.

  “Hey Rex,” Frank said.

  “Frank,” Rex said without looking away from his prize rose bush. “Have you seen the blossoms on this thing?”

  “No I haven’t, but I’d like you to see something in my brother’s trunk.”

  Rex looked at Gene’s metallic mint green Chevy Impala curiously. He chuckled.

  “You guys don’t have a body in there do you?”

  “Not a full one,” Frank said snidely. “Just the few parts your gardener nailed to my door.”

  Rex’s brows knitted. “What?” He looked around. “Tito? My Tito?”

  “Yes your Tito,” Frank repeated as he turned on a heel and started back toward the car. “We found it this morning. Almost scared Joan and the kids to death.”

  Gene opened the trunk as they approached and they all stared into it. No one spoke for several seconds, and the only sounds they heard were leaves rustling in the breeze, and the faint sound of the Helms’ man blowing his horn a few streets over.

  “Man, that’s a lot of golf clubs,” Rex said.

  “What?” Frank said incredulously. “It was here! I put it here myself!” Frank snapped Gene a panicky look and began yanking the clubs from the trunk.

  “Say, these are pretty nice drivers,” Rex said as he fingered one of the clubs. “How much are you asking for them?”

  Gene’s chest puffed out. “They’re twenty-five each.”

  Rex’s eyes slid down Gene’s front and stopped at the wrinkled kilt. “Is this your line of work?” he asked then picked up one of the drivers.

  “Not really, it’s sort of a temporary side business right now.”

  Rex examined the club closely. “At that price, I’ll take a couple of them.”

  Frank slapped Gene on the shoulder and pulled him aside. “You watched me put it in there didn’t you?”

  “Yeah I did.”

  “So, where is it?”

  Gene shrugged and stepped back to Rex to complete the sale.

  “I’ll be on the golf course this afternoon,” Rex said as he pulled the bills from his money clip and handed them to Gene. “We’re teeing off at one.” He leaned over the trunk and selected the two clubs he wanted. “I’m anxious to try these puppies out.” He gave them a courtesy nod and turned to walk back to his house.

  “You’re gonna love those clubs. Pretty soon you won’t leave home without ‘em,” Gene called after him.

  Frank quickly followed Rex up the path. “Rex, speaking of puppies, would you mind keeping your dog in your yard? I caught her watering my front lawn three times last week.”

  Rex smiled. “Sure thing, Frank.”

  Frank turned then twisted back quickly. “And talk to that gardener of yours.”

  Rex waved a hand. “I’ll tell him you said hello.”

  Gene closed the trunk and smiled. “Quickest sale I ever made.” He pocketed the money and grinned again.

  A trickle of cold rolled down Frank’s spine. He watched Rex get into his car and wave. It was apparent enough, Rex was toying with him. The depth to which he believed that took him by surprise. It also made him angry, very angry. Frank took an eager step forward to stop Rex from driving off, and then he remembered his unpleasant task. And as unpleasant as it seemed to be at the moment, if it worked, it would be well worth the money, time and trouble.

  “I’m going to get the dirt,” he said as he headed toward the front door.

  “How are you going to be able to tell Tortuga’s footprints from Roberts’?” Gene called after Frank.

  “Maybe I’ll get a little of both,” Frank shouted over his shoulder. “You go get that other stuff, and don’t mess up.”

  Frank had everything set up by the time Gene returned.

  Gene stepped through the front door. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he said as he sat the cages he was carrying on the floor.

  “We’re going to fight fire with fire,” Frank said as he poured a tablespoon of dirt onto a plain white saucer. “Does this look like a voodoo alter?”

  Gene looked on in fascination. There was a board resting on two cinder blocks in the center of the room. Incense was burning, a black and white candle awaited a flame and a shot glass of salt sat between them.

  “The ceramic turtle is a nice touch,” Gene said as he stepped into the room.

  “It was the closest thing to a snail that I could find,” Frank said as he stood.

  “Pee Caaah!” Came the deafening sound from one of the cages.

  “What the heck is that?” Frank asked with both hands clamped over his ears.

  Gene frowned. “It’s the peacock I was supposed to get.”

  “Peacock?” Frank choked. “You were supposed to get a pheasant.” He glared at Gene.

  “They were all out but they promised me that pheasant and peacock are in the same family.” Gene bent down to look inside the cage. He tapped on it gently and made a soft cooing sound.

  “We’re in the same family, too,” Frank said loudly. “And look how different we are!”

  Gene shoved an arm inside the bag he was carrying. He pulled out some tin foil, nails and parchment paper.

  “Stop worrying; this isn’t brain surgery you know.”

  Frank opened the book the woman had sold them. “It says we have to purify the magical tools.”

  “What are the magical tools?” Gene asked with growing excitement.

  “This stuff!” Frank scowled and indicated the items on the board. “We have to sprinkle them with holy water.”
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br />   “Where are we going to get holy water?” Gene asked.

  “What?” Frank exclaimed. “You were supposed to get some. It’s right there on the list.” He pointed to Gene’s pocket.

  Gene looked confused. “Where?” He tugged the list from his breast pocket and frowned at it.

  Frank tossed the book on the couch. “I abbreviated it right there,” he said while tapping the paper with his index finger. “B … C, Baptismal, Cleanse.”

  Gene looked at him with a critical eye. “I thought that meant ‘black cat’.” He reached down to pick up one of the cages. He brought it up to eye level and displayed a full-grown black cat crouching in the bottom of the cage. It hissed.

  “Voila,” Gene said.

  “Weren’t you listening when I was writing this stuff down?”

  “I thought I was, but I didn’t hear her say ‘holy water’.”

  Frank snatched the book from the couch. “That’s because she called it baptismal cleanse,” he said as he huffed out a breath. “Okay, it says here in this book we can make our own holy water.” He dashed into the kitchen and came back with a big brown plastic bowl half filled with water.

  “What’s that?” Gene asked.

  One corner of Frank’s mouth tipped up. “Tap water.” Water splashed over the edge of the bowl and onto the alter as he sat it down.

  Gene took the book from Frank’s hand and read aloud. “All you need is a bowl of spring water and tablespoon of sea salt.” Gene looked up. “Will tap water work? Is that sea salt?”

  “Doesn’t all salt come from the sea?” Frank asked.

  Gene shrugged and watched as Frank measured what he thought was a tablespoon of salt into the bowl.

  “Pee Caaah!”

  Frank accidentally dropped the shot glass of salt into the bowl with a bloop sound. Water splashed out in all directions. He covered his ears. “How could such a small bird make such a big noise?”

  The cat hissed then spit.

  Frank snatched the book back. “Okay, now I’m supposed to hold my hands over the top of the bowl and visualize a white light flowing through them into the water.” He handed the book back to Gene. “Here, you read the chant, and I’ll direct the light.”