by David Ohle
"Teeth mining? I hadn't heard of it."
"You will. You will."
Ten.
An urpf anz farmer who lives one mile north of Pisstown informed this correspondent that a demented imp spent the day with him on his farm. He saw it several times, chasing down his diminutive rat hound. He claims the animal is of prodigious size and of a gregarious nature, even playful. "It didn't want to eat my little hound. It wanted to play with him. " The imp had a brass bell tied around its neck with a cord, presumably to warn of its approach. After a few minutes, the farmer says, the little hound sensed the imp's intentions were benign and joined in play delightedly chasing, then being chased.
The Reverend campaigning near the camp at Witchy Toe, has been hypnotized by steel. A barber started to shave him, but the moment the blade touched the Reverend's throat, his muscles relaxed. He was thought dead. After thirty minutes had gone by a client of the shop gave him a snapping thump with a middle finger on the bridge of his nose and this revived him. The Reverend later said, "I have often fallen into a hypnotic state in the barber's chair. The little snip-snip of the scissors, the gentle touch of the comb, the pleasant shock of warm shaving soap, the sweet smell of the tonics and talcums. It all comes together and puts me in a state of reverie. So, go out and vote on voting day with confidence. Have no fear about your Reverend's state of health. "
A crazed stinker female has taken up residence under the Bum Bay swing bridge. She is a slinky woman who comes at children from a low ditch under the bridge with mud caked to her hair. Because her hand is usually palsied she straps a plaster model of a hand to her wrist to alarm her natural enemies: boys with switches, girls with sticks, old men with rods. Sometimes she picks young men up from the spot where they stand and carries them off She kills them after kissing them, then rides to the nearest town and dumps the bodies in front of the Guard station or the Templex.
A ten-inch parasite has been taken from the foot of Wallace Hooker. There had been swelling and pain and he thought it was rheumatism, but his entire constitution became affected. He grew adipose, his disposition declined to such an extent that he was taken by Q-ped to a sanitarium. There the flesh burst and the parasite was revealed Hooker claimed the parasite's presence had caused his face and hands to draw in such a way as to make them useless. He says that he had spent a great deal of time working in the tooth mine outside Pisstown and that the parasite probably entered through a lesion on his heel then. He has heard of instances when the parasites passed from one part of the body of the victim to another, and he attributes the fever and chills he suffered to this migratory action. After removal the gigantic parasite was put in a pail of brine and kept for observation.
Two imp hunters tramping through the woods near Witchy Toe nearly stepped into a sinkhole more than four hundred feet wide and two hundred feet deep, another collapse of substrata, one of many in the area. When the hunters were gagged by a rouge-colored sulfurous vapor rising from the hole, they fled, seeking help. From a safe distance, Witchy The residents watched the goings on. As soon as the vapors ceased to rise, an assortment ofartifacts was collected from the slurry at the bottom, including the cloth-bound remains of a male child stuffed into a wooden nail keg and more than two tons of tooth gold.
The death traveler, Moldenke startled a seeress in Bum Bay when he knocked at her door and asked Is that your cockatiel speaking to me from the camphorberry tree?" The seeress immediately saw the bird which rasped illl aboard'" It was not her bird she told him, and dispatched him with a sweep of her broom. Later, after she had taken her afternoon nap, she found Moldenke asleep on her porch glider. When she awakened him, he began to sing as he backpedaled from the premises in a peacefid manner. "I was once a famous man, "he shouted then turned to walk facing forward My name was Sinatra then and my crooning was known around the world Now Iin looking for work, any work. "
Before the day was out, an elderly stinker appeared in the seeress's yard. She looked out the window and saw him, a tall one, feeding crackers to the cockatiel. She opened the window and gave him a warning. "You get out of my yard or I'll take a skillet to your head.
The lanky stinker said My apologies, lady but Im only looking for my friend Moldenke. He might have said his name was Sinatra. Have you seen him? I know he's in these parts somewhere. The Chaos is over. We're looking for work. He was famous, you know. "
"I just sent him down the road, "she replied "And I'll do the same to you. "She stepped onto the porch and hefted her broom. "Go! Get!"
The stinker complied with her wishes, but said in going, I once ruled the world fmm my hotel room, you know. Ifiew ainmft. One had eight engines and was made of wood "
The cockatiel then repeated its fain, All aboard'"and the second stinker began hoofing long-legged along the road
Mildred Balls was released from the Permanganate Island Facility on Coward's Day and was the last in line to get a ticket for the return trip. The Noctuk was crowded with rough riders on the way to Pisstown for the celebration. She was lucky to find a seat in the commissary, which bustled with hungry, Jake-fueled rough riders eating stewed imp brains and bragging.
"Come tomorrow I'm gonna get me one of those yellow bellies and I'm going to bite off his big red nose and spit it back at him."
"Me, I'll kick some asses with these heavy-soled boots."
"You boys are awfully easy on them cowards. Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to take my pocket knife and stick it in one of their ears and twist it in as far as it'll go."
Having no interest in their brutal concerns, Mildred tried to avoid eye contact with them, but by the time she had taken only a few bites of the poorly prepared stew, they had begun to pry.
"What were you in for, lady?"
"Parasites."
"That's bad. Prison's better."
"It was a light infestation. A spider bite proved to be the cure. I'm free of them."
"You been there long?"
"Years. I'm looking forward to seeing my grandchildren again if I can find them. They've been shifted all over creation."
"We're all Hookerites. You a Hookerite?"
"No. I never saw the appeal."
"You planning to hurt a coward tomorrow?"
"No."
"You like that stew?"
"Compared to Permanganate Island, it's very elegant. Compared to the way I used to make it, it's fit for the slop jar."
The stew in Mildred's bowl spilled when the Noctuk suddenly leaned to one side, then the other, as its balsa screws began to spin in their cowlings. The big orbigator lifted unevenly from the field and passengers held onto whatever could be grasped. When it settled into a smooth ascent, a team of stinkers came from the kitchen to clean up the spills.
When Mildred bid the rough-riders goodnight, they raised their glasses of Jake to her. "Hip, hip, hooray, old girl. You're a pip."
"Thank you. I'm very sleepy. I'm turning in."
"Okay then. We'll kick a coward for you tomorrow."
Mildred settled into a chair on the open-air outer deck and, despite the stormy roar of the ship's screws, slept until the jolt of the Noctules landing woke her up and one of the crew told her, "You better get off the ship in a hurry, lady. We don't stay here long." Mildred took up her bag and descended the gantry stairs as quickly as she could, sometimes being swept downward by the crowd, her feet dangling in air.
The nearest Templex to the landing field was a mile-long walk on rocky ground. Mildred's ankles were swollen twice their size when she got there, huffing and anxious, lilting with heat prostration. She knew there would be hours of paperwork ahead, then several more exhausting hours on the pedal bus. There had been a time, under conditions like these, when she would have been met by someone on her household staff with a fast, easy-to-pedal, four-seater Q-ped for the trip to the mansion. It was not a particularly busy day at the Templex, however, and Mildred was able to apply for a travel permit in relatively short order.
"Where to?" The clerk's face wa
s partially obscured by a metal screen.
"The Balls estate, at the end of Outerditch Road."
"And your business there? Household service?"
"I'm Mildred Balls. It's my home."
"Oh, then I could probably expedite the paperwork for you, but my people tell me it's become a major shifting hub, the Balls place has. My brother knows the yard man up there. He told me all about it."
"I was afraid of that."
"He said Peters said you ought to be going to Square Island when they let you out. There's no room at the mansion."
"The Square Island house is boarded up. Every critter, bug and rodent on Earth is probably living there."
"The Reverend's shifting programs are in high gear, you know. Some places are being emptied, some are far too full. Another Chaos broke out in Pisstown last night. They say it's coming this way. Populations are pretty stirred up. Nerves are getting frazzled. You'll be fine on the Island. It's not expected to spread there."
"I weathered the last big Chaos on the Island. There were a few scuffles, some killings, fires, other minor disturbances, but there was a relative calm. Could it be the salty air and the gentle breezes put minds at ease?"
"Peters said you could stay in the cottage. Here, fill out this destination form. Put down Square Island by pedal tram and ferry boat. The tram leaves at 12:10." The clerk passed the form to Mildred through a tray that slid back and forth beneath the metal screen.
She filled out the form, signed and dated it. "There you are. I suppose I'm off to the summer home."
"It's for the best. You don't want to be in Pisstown if another Chaos breaks out."
"I certainly don't. And please get word to Peters. Tell him I'm going to Square Island and that if any of my grandchildren come home, they should join me there as soon as they are able."
"All right. Will do."
Having time to kill before the train came, Mildred ventured into Hooker Park and looked for a shade tree to nap under. There were stinker families picnicking under most of them, but a cluster of palmettos provided just enough shade for her to lie in and sleep for a few hours.
When she awoke, feeling rested, she looked up to see a young stinker female looking down at her with a curiosity. "How old are you? A hundred?"
"Oh, dear me, yes, a hundred and one at least."
The stinker said, "I've been shifted all over. I'm a thirdstage now. I smell a little. My skin's drying out. I've been traveling with a couple of kindly Americans, the Camulettes. They're in the fourth stage. Come cat with us. We're right over there."
The Americans beckoned Mildred to join them at their table, where a charred imp head sat on a platter. "Come cat with us, there's plenty enough," Mrs. Camulette shouted.
When Mildred came to their table, Mr. Camulette said, "We know you. You're Mildred Balls."
"That's me," Mildred said.
"My name's Charity," the girl said.
Mr. Camulette broke into the imp's head with a hammer and chisel after scraping away some of the char. "Mrs. Balls, do you want some brains?"
"Yes, I'm starved."
"How about a Jake? We've got a whole pitcher mixed up."
"That would be nice. I'm parched, too."
Mrs. Camulette spooned a plate of brains for Mildred and poured her a glass of Jake. "We used to come here before we got infested. It's been wonderful having Charity with us. But we've decided to cash in soon, to have ourselves put down, so we'll have to part ways with her."
"I'll be an orphan again," Charity said.
Mildred was moved to sympathy. "I'll look after you. I've lost track of my own grandchildren. All the shifting, you know."
"I hate myself," Charity said, trying to shed a tear.
"She won't go near a mirror," Mrs. Camulette said.
"There are years left in her," Mildred said. "I could use some help when I get to Square Island. I'll be going there on the 12:10 tonight."
Charity's face brightened. "I'd like that very much."
Sampling a spoonful of brains, Mr. Camulette said, "It's a fortunate thing, running into someone as kind as you, and a person of means, too."
When the Square Island ferry departed that night, there was heavy chop across the Bum Bay Straits. The craft's oak ribs creaked and screamed its entire length as it turtled along at three knots, waiting for the night wind to catch its sails. Mildred and Charity clung to one another for balance at the railing and watched a fogbank slowly swallow Pisstown's yellow glow. "Without wind, or current," Mildred said, "we're like ants on a twig."
"My legs hurt," Charity said. "Look at them." She lifted her skirt to her knees.
Mildred cleaned her spectacles, then looked at Charity's leg with alarm. One of the leg muscles had popped through the skin. "Oh, dear, let's get a bandage on that." She found a clean bandana in her bag and tied the muscle back. "There, now. That will hold it in till we get to the cottage and sew you up."
"It doesn't hurt. It doesn't bleed. Why am I like this, Mildred?"
"Exactly why you're like this is impossible to explain. The one thing I know is, if you keep losing your parts, you'll blow away in the next strong wind. So, let's try to keep you together as much as we can."
"May I ask you a question?"
Any time."
"How will the Camulettes put themselves down? They were so good to me."
"They'll go to a Templex and take a strong dose of willy, then have their hearts injected with formalin, stopping them almost immediately. After that the bodies are flash-dried, ground up and sold as fertilizer. It's one of the Reverend's ideas. Dust thou art to dust returneth, eventually, why not now? All that nonsense."
"I don't understand."
"Neither do I, dear. Only the Reverend understands."
At the Square Island Terminal, Mildred hired a Q-ped taxi. "To the Balls estate, please. And hurry. The girl has a tear in her leg."
"Yes, Miss, Miss Mildred. Long time, no see."
"I've been at Permanganate Island."
"We don't get much news out here. But I've got some for you. One of the Reverend's companies is mining teeth in your back pasture. Must have been a pretty big burial pit there once upon a time. There's talk of building a plant to process bone into meal there, too. Not to mention the potential for gas."
"That pasture is private property. This is a violation of the law."
"Not any more, Miss. The Reverend bought the Island. But don't worry. You're grandfathered in. You can continue to live on your property. You just can't do any mining. He owns everything under the topsoil, right to the core of the planet."
"Well, Charity," Mildred said, "At least we'll have a roof over our heads."
The clatter of the smoke-spewing, single-stroke, gel-burning engines used in teeth mining could be heard from the back meadow when Mildred and Charity entered the estate grounds, where a pall of exhaust smoke filled the air. "There was a time you could smell the sea from here," Mildred said.
It was difficult to see the main house at all, though a dim light shone in the window of the guest cottage and the moon cast enough light across the orchard to see that the persimmon trees were either dead or dying.
Mildred gasped. "Back then we always got ten or twelve bushels a year from those trees."
Charity said, "I'm like a tree. I hardly feel anything."
Hanging above the cottage entrance was a hand-scrawled sign that read, "Company Store & Diner."
Mildred feared the worst. "Someone's set up shop here, on my very private property. This is not something I'll stand for."
Inside the store, the candle light was dim, the air smoky. A layer of grime, crushed plaster, and tooth powder covered the once-varnished wooden floor. Shelves made of wooden crates had been nailed to the plaster walls. Mostly empty, they were stocked with a few jars of unguent, some bottles of Jake, and a box of starch bars.
"That used to be the dining room," Mildred said. "Every week of the summer there were Balls family dinners served. The big table is
gone." Four overturned metal drums were serving as tables now. "This is a sad sight, Charity. Don't mind if I cry."
One corner of the room was partitioned by two quilts hanging from a rope and the scratching of a pen on paper could be heard. Mildred parted the quilts and looked in. A homely young woman sat writing at a desk. Without looking up, she said, "I'll be with you in a minute, as soon as I finish this letter."
"Excuse me, young lady, but-"
"I'm Katie. Katie Binder."
"Nice to meet you, Katie, but-"
"Wait, wait ... I'm almost done." She had reached the concluding lines, which she spoke aloud. "I'm going to have to end this, Papa. Some customers have come in. Your loving daughter, Katie.'" The quilts parted and Katie came out. "All right, then. You folks hungry? Tonight we got eel. Pretty good catch this morning. They're fresh."
"Give me a Jake," Mildred said, sitting on a stool beside one of the drums, untying the bandana and carefully peeling it away from Charity's leg. "I don't see any necrosis. That's an encouraging sign. We'll put some unguent on it ... I'd like a jar of that unguent, please."
"Coming right up. You two been shifted here?"
"No, no," Mildred said.
"I sure was," Katie said. "Used to be I had a sweet little business curing Jake and willy addicts out in Pisstown. Quite a money maker, too. And I get shifted here to wait tables, breakfast, lunch and dinner, for a stinking crew of teeth miners. Anyway, they already had supper and went back to work. We got a couple of eels left. That's all. I'll warm them up if you want."
"If I could taste food, and if I was hungry, I'd have one," Charity said.
Mildred placed five bucks on the drum. "The Jake will do for me."
Katie brought a warm Jake and a jar of unguent to the table. "So, what are you doing way out here on this stupid island?"
"That neglected mansion up there was my summer home for a hundred years."
"Really?"
"She's very, very old," Charity said.
