Black Friday was only modestly successful for the floating bookshop. I thank Alan, who purchased a Sci-Fi compilation, the lovely woman who bought a beautiful book on food, and Abdul the Friendly Porter, who donated a bunch of non-fiction books, two of which an elderly woman immediately pounced on: one on Jerry Orbach and the other on Kaballah.
Here's a bit of advertising for those with book lovers on their Christmas lists - an excerpt from Strain, a story in my short story collection, A Hitch in Twilight. You'll recognize the main character. Have a little sympathy:
Seated at his desk, legs propped up, eyes closed, he listened intently, head bobbing rapturously to the dulcet tones of a soprano. He frowned as he heard the door creak. "Ssssh!" he said, raising a hand, then waving it as gracefully as a conductor.
His assistant, a horribly disfigured woman, stopped in her tracks, breath bated, folder pressed tightly to her lone breast.
"She brings such beauty to them. What a waste. None of the pathetic wretches deserves it." He opened his eyes and snapped his fingers, and the music ceased. The sound of mourning was now prevalent in the background. "A voice like that - and she didn't even have to sell her soul. I want a complete file on her. She must be corrupted, if she hasn't been already. I want her here."
"I'm glad to see you happy, Master," said the woman humbly.
"Why wouldn't I be?" he said, a trace of resentment in his tone.
"Here are the reports."
"You're looking lovely today, Puta. I'd say you were an angel if I didn't know better."
She was stung by the sarcasm. She turned and paused.
"What is it?" said the Master, irked. "Let me guess - the lawyers are demanding a hearing. Ignore them. That's the point. They'll never have that opportunity again."
"No, Master," she said timidly, avoiding his gaze.
"The politicians? Let them compromise each other for eternity, as they deserve."
Puta lowered her head."What?" said the Master impatiently.
"I don't know. Maybe it's nothing."
"No doubt it is."
She sought his fiery eyes. "Lately I've been hearing some of the guests...."
"Guests? This isn't the Hotel California." He paused, eyes afire. "I want a file on them too."
She looked away and blurted: "They're happy here."
He stood motionless, absorbing the comment. "Nonsense. The only one happy here is me."
Her look evolved to one of compassion. "Are you happy, Master?"
His face became even more severe. "Are you analyzing me again?"
She coiled, afraid. "I love you."
He tittered. "That is so you, Puta. Damnation imitates life. You will love me in vain as you did the losers you let defile you."
She bowed her head sorrowfully.
"I'll be out in a minute," he said.
"Go in disguise. They wouldn't dare let you know they're happy."
He took a moment to muse. "Clever little parasites. It's not Adolf, is it?"
"No, although he did smile when he heard the partial birth ban was vetoed again. He...."
The Master threw his hands into the air. "If I ever find out who's responsible for these leaks...!" he raged, twisting in place.
Puta shrank and trembled.
"It isn't you, is it?"
She flinched as if she'd been slapped. "I would never betray you. As you say, I betray only myself."
"True." He paused, reflecting. "But if it's not Adolf.... All these years and this is the first I've heard of this."
"Adolf was happy only for that moment."
"That is a moment too many."
"He says his ideas live."
The Master smirked. "His ideas, are they? You'd think he'd be a little humbled by now. Then again, you'd think someone so thoroughly evil would be the one who enjoyed his damnation."
"I think he really believes he was right, that he's the victim."
The Master studied her with what was almost admiration. "You used those brains for debauchery and crime when you could have done so much more damage in psychiatry."
Her pupils contracted. "I'm so ashamed."
"I'm so glad. Get out. Wait. Where shall I look?"
"Everywhere. It started with new arrivals, but it's a trend now."
He was beside himself. "A new strain. Leave it to the maggots to find a way. Imagine - souls at home in hell. It takes all kinds...."
"Your work has become so good you've created a master race in your own image."
"Get out."
Buy it here: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb Also available on Kindle.
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