“Oi! Bathilda! We’ve got a thrill seeker ‘ere!” The old shopkeeper ran his slimy tongue through the squishy gaps in his teeth and peered at his customer through a pair of eyes heavy with cataracts. Behind him, his wife shuffled out of the back room, a flaky cardboard box clutched in her ancient claw-like hands.
“’Ere ya go ‘Enry. The cream o’ the crop right ‘ere it is!” She reached up to pick at a hairy mole on her chin and sucked on her lips, creating a strange slurping sound. Pointing a long, crooked finger at the customer, she accused “you don’t look like one o’ them adrenaline junkies! What d’ya want our Patches for, eh?” Henry slapped at her hand and squawked at her.
“What does it matter why ‘e wants ‘em, as long as ‘ does? Get outta here Bathilda you old bat!” Grumbling and still sucking on her lips, the crotchety woman hobbled out of sight. Henry turned back to the customer and threaded his tongue between his teeth once more, possibly fishing for an old bit of spinach that may be wedged there for a snack. “Apologies for me wife, good sir.” He dipped his head in a sort of half bow. “She’s a bit off the ol’ rocker these days.” He began rifling through the crumbling box, causing little colorful squares of film to fly everywhere. “Now, what was it you wanted to buy?”
The man at the desk wore a long black coat, emerald gloves, a matching bowler hat, and carried a cane. Looking down his long nose at the withered and filthy shopkeeper, he responded in a deep yet dainty voice, “I require a thrill; the strongest you’ve got.”
Henry looked up at the man towering over him and sniffed loudly. “The strongest I’ve got, eh? That’ll cost a pretty penny, it will.” His mostly blind gaze slipped down the well-dressed man and rested on the residence of the pocketbook. “’Ow much are you willing to pay laddie?”
Reaching into his coat, the customer drew out two fat silver coins and slapped them onto the counter. “Will this be enough?”
Henry’s eyes gleamed and his fingers fidgeted, eager to snatch such a large sum. He plunged his hand back into the box, scattering yet more pieces of fil, and extracted a large orange square. “This is a one of a kind Experience, it is! Comes with a guarantee of satisfaction! I’d advise you to sit down comfortably before you use it however. The potency may surprise you.”
“Do not fret old man, I am prepared. Now give me the Patch.” He held out a slender gloved hand for the orange bit of film. When the shopkeeper surrendered it, the hand instantly snapped shut around it. The man slid the silver toward Henry, turned on a booted heel, and stalked out of the little shop.
“Thank ye kindly sir! Thank ye!” Grasping the two coins in his wrinkled old hands, he whistled sharply through his teeth, and jammed his moist tongue between them once again.
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