Curses, Inc. And Other Stories
Page 2
Range: $40–$50, depending on manner of death.
CONTINUE
RETURN TO PREVIOUS PAGE
Bill shook his head and clicked on RETURN TO PREVIOUS PAGE.
This time Bill clicked on CAUSE LOSS.
Permanent loss is beyond the price range you have set, leaving these options:
TEMPORARY LOSS
RETURN TO PRICE RANGE MENU
TEMPORARY LOSS, Bill ordered.
START DATE OF CURSE:
IMMEDIATELY
TYPE DATE/TIME HERE:
IMMEDIATELY. Then once again the computer asked for the subject's name and address, and Bill typed that information in. The screen said:
Bill clicked CORRECT AS IS.
Payment required before delivery of services
Amount due: $25
CASH
CREDIT CARD
SAVINGS/CHECKING ACCOUNT
Bill was too eager to get started to bother with sending cash, and he certainly didn't have a credit card. He clicked on SAVINGS/CHECKING ACCOUNT.
Bill sat back in amazement. These Curses, Inc. people were good. Apparently they had traced him by his parents' Internet account, then his personal password, and then found his savings account. It was kind of unsettling, knowing how much people could find out about you. He clicked on YES.
Bill clicked on NO.
CURSES, INC. appreciates your patronage.
With that faint sound of bells, the message faded into the company's starry night background, which was in turn replaced by the Curses, Inc. icon.
Bill couldn't wait to get to school tomorrow.
When Bill walked into homeroom, he expected to see Denise all teary and sniffly, but she looked and sounded fine. In fact, she was talking animatedly, and she and her circle of friends were laughing.
People were still avoiding him except to give him dirty looks, so nobody seemed to care when he casually drifted across the room to look out the windows and ended up close enough to Denise's group to listen in.
"So I leave the deli," Denise was saying, "waving this one slice of baloney, and I'm going, 'Here, Muffin, sweetie. Mama has your favorite food,' and I'm passing by this Dumpster, and all of a sudden out jumps Muffin, and she lands on my shoulder, and I'm going like this"—Denise threw her hands up and mimed being startled—"and the little monster knows the baloney's for her, and she just sits there on my shoulder and starts eating like she thinks she's a parrot or something."
The girls laughed that oh-isn't-that-cute laugh girls do.
"So all in all she was only gone fifteen minutes," Denise finished just as the bell for first period sounded. Turning and seeing Bill, she snarled, "Move, jerk," even though she could have just as easily walked around him.
"Move, jerk," other girls and a few of the boys said, knocking into him, so that—eventually—he dropped his books, and everybody walked right over them.
Bill hardly noticed. Fifteen minutes? he thought. I paid twenty-five dollars to have that stupid little mutt missing for fifteen minutes?
Wait until he got home and told Curses, Inc. what he thought of that.
Determined to demand his twenty-five dollars returned, Bill was hoping for an address or phone number when he clicked on MORE INFO on the menu bar.
But before he had a chance to do that, as soon as he clicked on the Curses, Inc. icon but after he heard the tiny chiming of the bells and saw the WELCOME TO CURSES, INC. message, instead of listing the SERVICES AVAILABLE, the screen showed:
WELCOME BACK TO CURSES, INC.,
VALUED CUSTOMER, WILLIAM FRANKLIN ESSLER.
WOULD YOU LIKE TO:
INQUIRE INTO STATUS OF PREVIOUS PURCHASE?
MAKE A COMPLAINT?
OPEN A NEW MATTER?
Hah! Bill thought. If fifteen minutes for twenty-five dollars was the best they could do, no wonder they offered MAKE A COMPLAINT on their menu.
He clicked on that.
Our records show one transaction, placed yesterday at 3:37 P.M. (Eastern Daylight Saving Time), at which time you ordered one HEX Curse to be placed on Denise Bainbridge to result in temporary loss of a pet dog.
Our records further indicate curse was completed at 3:42 P.M. (EDST) and took effect at 4:17 P.M. of the same day, at which time the animal in question ran out a door opened by curse subject's mother returning home from work.
Our records also indicate payment of $25 debited from your savings account 53-0057-995239 at Mount Morris Community Savings Bank upon successful placement of curse.
FURTHER INQUIRY
RETURN TO PREVIOUS PAGE
Bill clicked on FURTHER INQUIRY.
PLEASE HOLD
Bill held for about a minute, at which point the message dissolved, with the tinkling of those stupid bells, into the starry night screen. For an instant he thought Curses, Inc. had broken the connection, but then a message started, letter by letter, and Bill realized he'd reached a real person rather than an automatic program.
Greetings. This is Edanna.
How may I assist you?
Bill typed in: "The dog was gone for fifteen lousy minutes. I want my money back."
I'm sorry, sir. You purchased a TEMPORARY Loss of Pet Curse.
"Fifteen minutes is VERY temporary," Bill typed.
I'm sorry you're dissatisfied, sir. However, the spell was delivered as ordered. If you had wanted to stipulate a spell of longer duration, you should have said so. Under the circumstances, I'm afraid we are unable to refund your purchase price.
"One hundred percent satisfaction guaranteed," Bill muttered to himself. He typed, "You never asked how long I wanted the spell to last."
Sir, a $25 Temporary Loss of Pet Curse is assigned a random duration from 1 minute to 24 hours.
This was getting nowhere. Bill realized they would never refund his twenty-five dollars. Instead of worrying about that, he typed: "How much to assign a particular amount of time?"
$30, sir.
Bill sighed. The twenty-five dollars was gone; did he want to throw another thirty dollars after that? Bill sighed again. The twenty-five dollars was gone with nothing to show for it. He typed: "OK. But I want the dog gone for at least two weeks." That would be until after the dance, and it would serve Denise right.
I'm sorry, sir. Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. $30 would guarantee the dog being missing for whatever amount of time you stipulated LESS THAN 24 hours. Two weeks would cost $170.
Bill gave a groan that was half growl.
But twenty-four hours was such a piddling little amount.
"How much," he typed, "for two days?" That would be over the weekend, giving Denise all that free time on her hands to worry.
48 hours would cost $40, sir.
It seemed foolish to pay thirty dollars, then cheap out at the last minute and lose a whole extra day for ten dollars. He had the money. "OK," he typed, reluctantly.
Let me switch you over to our regular program, sir. I'd like to add, sir, that it's been a pleasure doing business with you.
Edanna
Her name was followed by a symbol of a smiley face wearing a stylized pointed witch's hat. A moment later the screen dissolved to show:
Bill clicked on CORRECT AS IS and finished up with the business of letting Curses, Inc. deduct the money from his savings account. It was only when he was back to the main menu that he realized he should have had the curse start tomorrow morning—Saturday—so that the dog would still be missing when Denise got to school Monday. That way, unless her parents called the office to let her know it had been found, it would have been like getting almost a full day free.
Dummy, Bill chided himself.
Still, all in all he was well pleased.
Bill spent the weekend gleefully drawing mental pictures of a dismayed Denise Bainbridge wandering the streets of Mount Morris with an increasingly fossilized-looking slice of baloney, calling, "Come to Mama, Muffin."
On Monday he got to school right after her. As he walked down the hall beh
ind her, he heard her tell a group of girls, "You will never believe what happened to me this weekend."
Which was a good start, except that she sounded excited, not distressed.
"First of all," Denise started, "remember how my aunt picked me up from school Friday to spend the weekend at her cottage on the lake?"
Picked her up from school? Bill's mind echoed hollowly. To spend the weekend... His steps faltered. He had to make a conscious effort not to turn to the nearest locker and bang his head on it. I spent forty dollars to have that idiot dog lost for the weekend, and Denise wasn't even home to miss it?
He realized that the girls were getting away from him and he hurried to catch up to hear the rest of it.
"It was such fun," Denise was saying. "I've got to tell you all about it later. But first let me tell you what happened when I got back Sunday afternoon. I walk into the living room—right?—and there, sitting on the couch with my mom and dad, is this extremely gorgeous guy with this wonderful dark hair and brown eyes—let me tell you—to die for. And he's our age—right?—but he stands up when I walk Into the room—he actually stands up. And he says in this rich, sexy Spanish accent, 'Ah! This must be Denise.'"
The girls all gave appreciative sighs and moans and asked who he was.
"His name is Rafael, and he's somehow related to the Spanish royal family, and he's an exchange student who's going to be spending the entire next year with the family whose backyard is up against ours."
The girls started to chatter excitedly, and Denise had to talk over them, "But listen to this—do you want to hear the best part? The reason he came over was that Muffin got loose again while I was away, and Rafael found her. He's crazy about dogs especially now because he had to leave his back home in Spain and he's missing them. He asked me"—Denise rested her hand over her heart and said, in her attempt at a sexy accent—"'Would it be permitted, Denise, for me to occasionally come to visit with your dog?' And then he looks at me with those incredible eyes and asks, 'Would it be permitted to visit you, too?'"
What have I done? Bill thought, unable to follow them any further, to listen to any more. Thanks to my forty dollars, Denise doesn't get a chance to worry about her dog, but she gets to meet Señor Prince Charming.
Something had to be done.
Bill got home and once again told the computer he needed MAKE A COMPLAINT. Once again he got Edanna on the line, she of the witch-hatted smiley face. "Denise met some sort of Spanish count or something," Bill complained.
Edanna replied:
I'm sorry, sir. You never indicated a particular way for the curse subject's dog to be returned. And, because it was a temporary spell, the dog HAD to be returned.
"Yeah, yeah," Bill muttered as he typed. "But she came out better than she started." But even as he typed it, he knew what the answer would be:
I really don't see how we can give you a re-fund when none of this was covered by the terms of our agreement, sir.
Would you like to buy an additional spell for the dog to be lost for another 48 hours and then return on its own?
Bill typed, "Can I afford it?"
Ensuring that the dog would return on its own requires a JINX Temporary Change Animal's Nature spell, an additional $90, for a total charge of $130.
Ouch, Bill thought. He typed, "Forget the dog. Any cheaper suggestions?"
Minor Scares, such as narrowly avoiding a fatal mishap.
Petty Annoyances, making any of a variety of things go wrong.
Spells against Subject's Home, perhaps causing breakage.
Bill decided that Minor Scares would be over too quickly, and Spells against Subject's Home seemed more against Denise's parents. He typed, "Tell me more about Petty Annoyances." At the last second, before hitting RETURN, he added, "As cheap as possible."
$5 Spells:
— Neighbor's Gate Swings Shut with a Loud Bang in the Middle of the Night
— Subject Steps on Gum That Sticks to Shoe
— Pencil Point Breaks
More examples?
Those were a bit too petty, just a moment's annoyance. "How about $10 spells?" Bill asked.
—Sandwich Falls Peanut-Butter Side Down
—Grass Stains Get on White Sneakers
—Panty Hose Runs
More?
Bill took a deep breath. "Could I get something with longer-lasting effects for $25?" he typed.
— Lost Homework
— Forgotten Orthodontist Appointment
—Incorrectly Set VCR Resulting in Missed Program
More?
Bill didn't like any of those, but thinking about homework gave him an idea. After all, it was in school, in front of everyone, that Denise had humiliated him. "How about she drops her tray at lunch, everything falls off, and everybody laughs at her?"
"NO!" Bill typed before Edanna finished the word Acceptable? He thought about school some more. Time was short. This was the last full week. In fact, exams started tomorrow. He got a wonderful idea. "How much to make her fail an exam?" he typed.
To make her fail in her weakest subject: $60
To make her fail in her strongest subject: $217
Bill ran his hands through his hair. Sixty dollars!
But it was a good one.
"What's her weakest subject?" he typed, worried—the way things were going—it would turn out to be something inconsequential, like art, and he'd have to pay more for a required subject.
The answer came back:
Math.
He typed, "OK. Make her fail in math." He rested his head on the desk while he and Curses, Inc. went through the process of deducting sixty dollars from his dwindling account.
During Tuesday's math exam, Bill glanced over to watch Denise so often that Mrs. McGuire warned, "Eyes on your own paper, Mr. Essler."
But Denise was having a hard time—Bill could tell by all the sighs, and by the way she kept running her hand through her hair.
When will she find out? he wondered, delighted at how he'd spent his latest investment.
The delight lasted until Thursday morning.
"Mrs. McGuire called my house last night to say I flunked my math exam," Bill heard Denise tell her friends, and he knew he was in trouble by the way she said it.
Not nearly upset enough, he thought with foreboding, though the girls made dismayed-sounding noises.
"Sixty-four," Denise said. "I flunked by one stupid little point—can you believe it? Luckily my average for the year was eighty-one, so I still pass the course, but, boy, were my parents mad." Denise flashed a smile. "But I was lucky again. Rafael"—Bill hated the smug singsong way she said that name—"was visiting when it happened, and guess what? It turns out he's a math genius. He's here on a math scholarship." She'd saved the best for last and squealed, all in one breath, "And he said he'd tutor me in math over the summer."
The girls began jumping up and down the way excited girls do.
But then it turned out that hadn't been the best. Denise said, "And he said he'd take me to the dance tomorrow night! Mrs. McGuire said it'd be OK, since someone"—everyone turned to glare at Bill—"stood me up at the last minute after I bought my dress and everything."
Bill ignored her self-satisfied smile. In fact, he gave one of his own. He knew exactly what to do.
WELCOME BACK TO CURSES, INC.,
VALUED CUSTOMER, WILLIAM FRANKLIN
ESSLER.
WOULD YOU LIKE TO:
INQUIRE INTO STATUS OF PREVIOUS PURCHASE?
MAKE A COMPLAINT?
OPEN A NEW MATTER?
Bill knew how far he'd get with MAKE A COMPLAINT. He clicked on OPEN A NEW MATTER.
He kept on clicking until he got to PETTY ANNOYANCES.
PERSONAL POSSESSIONS, Bill clicked.
CATEGORIES OF PERSONAL POSSESSIONS:
FOOD
CLOTHING
DWELLING
OBJECTS WITHIN DWELLING
MEANS OF TRANSPORTATION
OTHER
&
nbsp; Bill chuckled to himself. Oh, CLOTHING, he thought, clicking on that one. Definitely clothing.
"The famous dress," Bill muttered, clicking on DRESS, "that we've all heard so much about for so long."
TYPE IDENTIFYING DESCRIPTION OF GARMENT:
Bill typed, "Denise Bainbridge's dress that she bought for the eighth-grade dance."
Bill clicked on RIP.
Bill moved the little arrow to CAN'T BE WORN IN POLITE SOCIETY.
START DATE OF CURSE:
IMMEDIATELY
TYPE DATE/TIME HERE:
Bill typed, "Tomorrow, just as Denise is about to enter the dance."
That'll fix her, he thought. Her and her miniature earl.
He hesitated only once, when the price came up at eighty-five dollars. That would leave him—after his wonderful $395 that he had started with just last week—$185.
That would be enough to buy the two computer games he'd most wanted—though he'd started with a list of eight. Or, if he could make Mom feel guilty enough about his missing the dance because of her and she gave him ten dollars, he could buy the desktop publishing program he'd been looking at. With that, he could probably earn enough money to buy a couple games by the end of summer.
It was worth it, he decided, giving Curses, Inc. the go-ahead. There was no way Denise could come out on top with a ruined dress at the very last instant.