The Wish Belly Part XVI

February 23, 2023

Shane Kimberlin

The Wish Belly is an original fiction serial. If you missed prior installments, you can catch up using the links below.

The many hundred dollar bills lay on the table unkempt.

“It looks like an untidy garden of mammon,” said Leo, “but where did you get so much money?”

I told them everything that had happened up to walking back. John. The invite. Tustin. The offer. The vaporizing. Fake bills and the angry old man.

Melinda laughed.

“You pushed Eugene Gammy. Ha.”

“Who?”

“He’s the owner of Gammy Jammy. That guy’s a real jerk. Man, one time I saw him chasing a campus squirrel. The squirrel fought back. He had priors.”

“Has he been around campus a long time?”

“Eugene? Oh, yeah,” said Melinda, “decades.”

“Huh, I’d never met him before.”

“And his grandson Tustin, that poor kid. He works for his grandpa but he’s sweet, you know? No malice to him. I bet he felt embarrassed.”

“Yes.”

“So,” Leo said, “this man, ‘John,’ comes to you with an offer to buy me, no? And you refuse all this money. He starts to get angry, and then disappears from the restaurant?”

“But he wasn’t angry,” I explained, “he was...calm. But fierce.”

You’re going further down this bad dream. Down down down you go. “But he was smiling, like, with resignation,” I continued, “And then he started melting the way a candle melts. Slow at first. Then fast. Then gone.”

“He saw us earlier. Why didn’t he just take me then?”

“Because he said he couldn’t. Those were his orders.”

“It’s like you had to agree to hand Leo over,” said Melinda, “but why? Didn’t they try to grab Leo?”

“Yeah,” I said, “at Grant’s Eye.”

“The park?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so, the first time you see these monsters is at the park. They’re stealing your cat. Doesn’t work. You grab Leo from them. You are both somehowmagicallyy transported back home. You eat...dinner after this happens?”

“Yes.”
Melinda shakes her head. “How could you still have an appetite?”

“We were both pretty hungry.”

Leo nodded.

“And,” Melinda said, “you don’t tell her what happened?”

“I thought I was crazy.” “Yeah. Fair enough.”

My nerves hurt. If I had told Annie the truth, maybe things would be different.

She could have protected herself. But would she have believed me?

Leo said nothing.

“Let me see the bill,” she said, “I wanna see what’s wrong with it.”

“Here,” I said, “good luck seeing if you can find-”

“-the wording is wrong.” “What?”

“Look here.”

She pointed at the bill. Some small regal text. “‘National Currency.’” “Instead of ‘Federal Reserve Note.’” said Melinda, “but it’s weird. It’s a weird mistake. The National Bank notes haven’t been printed for at least half a century. A lot of these bills were even before the Federal Reserve. So it must be on purpose.”

“So you’re saying these are old?” said Leo, “but look at years printed on them. From last year.”

“These,” said Melinda, running her fingers across the bill, “feel crisp. And thick. Fake money is thin. It rips. This is made of cotton and linen fibers. This ink doesn’t run when you rub it. And look at the design. It’s professional. All the little details. And they look like a regular hundred-dollar bill. Fresh.”

“So if you were to plagiarize hundreds” I said, “You wouldn’t make such a simple mistake.”

“But it’s not a mistake. This is on purpose. With a defunct currency.” Leo said, “So this guy went through all this hassle for what?”

“Dunno. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he got them from a forger. Who knows?”

“He gave me a card too,” I said, “here.”

I took out the card and set it on the table.

“Eggshell. Raised lettering. Very nice,” said Leo.

“‘555-JOHN?’,” said Melinda.

“That’s the number.”

“It’s fake,” said a voice across the room. It was Zeke, the failed only open mic singer, slumped at his chair and staring at the wall.

“What?”

“It’s a fake number.”

“Meow,” said Leo.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“In movies. TV shows,” Zeke said, “the first three numbers are always 555. They don’t want idiots calling people and doing prank calls and stuff. It’s a fake number.”

“Zeke, were you listening?” said Melinda, “that’s super rude to do that. You know better.”

“No, I didn’t, honest. I just tuned in for a sec. Please don’t be mad at me. I already have a lot of people mad at me.”

“Yeah, you do. You de-serve it too.”

“I’m gonna get out of here.”

“Before she comes back.”

“I gotta go clean the fountain anyway.”

Zeke walked out of Highway Blues with his guitar in hand.

Melinda sighed.

“She’ll probably take him back. She will. It’s just they do this every few months. But why did they decide to pick my place for this drama? From their first date to their final gong show. It’s a curse. Okay, enough of that, I’m gonna try the number.”

She took out her cell and started dialing.

“Please don’t.”

“Why?”

“John or they might be trying to track us.”

“No,” said Leo, “It’s probably fake, like the self-destructive manchild said.”

The phone rang.

“It’s a number, man,” said Melinda, “Don’t be scared. There’s three of us. That guy could have attacked you across the table. Zeke is-”

Melinda held the phone to her ear.

“- right. Yep. Not a real number.”

“So,” I said, “a fake card, fake bills, but the bills are professionally done, and the card is...nice.”

“Very nice card,” said Leo.

The landline rang on the table. Leo and I both tensed up.

Melinda answered. “Hello? Yes. Uh huh. No. Oh my gosh. That’s awful. Really. Yes. I’ll keep you posted. Uh huh. Thank you. Uh huh. Bye.”

She hung up the phone. “What was that?” “Campus security. Apparently a guy who sounds a lot like you pushed an old man who sounds a lot like Eugene Gammy by the fountain. Classic.”

“He pushed me first. And then again. It was a reflex. Self-defense.”

“I don’t care and you’re not in court.”

“We should go,” Leo said.

“What? No, it’s fine,” Melinda shrugged, “it’s campus security, not the SWAT team. They call me once a month about Eugene getting pushed by somebody. They just wanted to see about picking up some microwaveables. But you should probably get packing anyway. You need to go see the Ferryman.”

 
Michelle McAfee

Michelle McAfee is a Photographer / Writer / Graphic Designer based in Southern Oregon with deep roots in Alaska. FB/IG: @michellemcafeephoto.

https://www.michellemcafee.com
Previous
Previous

Proposed Nuclear Project Update

Next
Next

Glennallen’s Brooklyn Allain Plays in Arctic Winter Games