A year and a half ago, during Christmas break, I wrote a little short story called THE UNIVERSAL REMOTE (you can read it if you go to Dec. 2023), in which I introduced a new character named Mr. Cain - a mysterious shopkeeper who always has just what his customers need. I brought him back last year in another story simply called JUST DESSERTS. He's loosely based on Cain from DC Comics' THE SANDMAN series, and Leland Gaunt, the malevolent store owner in Stephen King's famous novel NEEDFUL THINGS. But he is neither of those, really. Mr. Cain isn't necessarily evil, but he's not very nice either. One thing he is, however, is just. He seeks to tip the balance of the world away from cruelty and injustice, and towards greater fairness, as this story will reveal:
BLOW THEM ALL AWAY!
A Short Story by
Lewis B. Smith
“I want fireworks, woman!” Eddie Gillman snapped at his wife.
“We don’t have money for groceries this week,” Eve replied. “I need baby food for little Billy, and enough meat and veggies for three meals a day until I get paid Friday! We can’t afford fireworks this year!”
“Tomorrow is the Fourth of July, you anti-American libtard!” he snapped. “We ALWAYS have fireworks on the Fourth. They’re having Vacation Bible School at First Baptist all week. Send the kids up there and let the church feed them. I wanna blow some stuff up!”
“Hot dogs and cookies ain’t a good meal for them kids, and I’d still need to provide supper for them!” she said. “Next year you’ll be back on your feet and working again, and we can do a proper party with rockets and mortars and maybe even a good brisket. But until you’re working again, we can’t afford your damned fireworks!”
He lunged out of the recliner, moving quicker than she thought he could with his buggered-up knee. Leaning on his cane with his left hand, he hauled off and dealt her a stinging slap with his right, snapping her head to one side. Little Billy, barely a year old, started to cry.
“Go buy us some fireworks or there’s a lot worse where that came from!” he screamed in her face. “If you need money that bad, you can always do what you did for Troy while I was in the hospital!”
“That was ONE TIME!” she screamed back, furious at him for bringing it up. “We were gonna lose our home while you were all laid up and useless, so I paid that month’s bills the only way I could. I hated it and I will NEVER do that again! Be a man for once in your life instead of a spoiled child!”
This time he swung the cane at her instead of his hand, but Eve jumped back quickly enough that it only caught the tip of her nose – enough to make it bleed, but not enough to break it.
“What is wrong with you?” she said softly. “Why do your stupid exploding toys matter more to you than your children?”
“You will get me those fireworks, or I’ll throw you and those brats out on the street tomorrow. See if anyone in this town wants my leftovers – because that’s all you are!” Eddie snarled, raising the cane again.
“Fine!” she snapped. “When the kids get hungry, I’ll tell them Daddy blew up their groceries!”
Eve grabbed a Kleenex or two to staunch her bloody nose, then picked up her faded black leather purse and stormed out the door.
“Why did I ever marry that bastard?” she said, halfway to herself. Of course, she knew the answer to that question. Ten years earlier, when she was an honors student and a cheerleader and Eddie was the star running back on the Pine Cove football team, she’d let him take her to the prom – then, after the Prom was over, he’d taken her out to Wind Point in that old Chevy truck he drove. He was slim and handsome then, with wavy black hair and a spark in his eyes that made all the girls on the cheer squad jealous when Eve said he was going to be her date. She’d let him go all the way that night, caught up in the heat of the moment, and six weeks later she’d realized she was carrying his child.
Eddie’s dreams of a football scholarship had dried up when he couldn’t pass math his senior year, but he’d gone to work at the local farmer’s co-op and made good money. They’d never discussed anything other than keeping the baby – Eve's Dad, a deacon in the local church, would have disowned her if she’d gone to one of those clinics. Truthfully, though, even if she’d felt no parental pressure, she wanted that baby. She and Eddie had picked out a crib and taken out a loan to rent and furnish a small mobile home, with the understanding that living in the trailer park was a temporary thing. Linda had been a beautiful baby and grown into a smart, vibrant ten-year-old.
Two more kids later, she and Eddie were still stuck there, living in a small, crappy trailer with drunk neighbors, barely able to pay the rent on their space and cover the monthly utilities. Still, it hadn’t been all bad – she and Eddie still laughed together more than they fought, and they both loved their kids.
Then Eddie fell off the grain elevator and busted his leg up – so badly that his foot was facing the wrong direction when Eve met him in the emergency room. Surgery, therapy, pain pills, and follow-up visits drained their meager savings. The leg still hurt him something fierce, especially in rainy weather, and he’d taken to drinking to numb the pain when his Vicodin prescription ran out. Turned out Eddie was a mean drunk, and between the drinking and his bitterness over their reduced circumstances, he’d become a cruel, angry caricature of the man she married. Eve’s Dad had died of a heart attack a couple years previous, and her Mom had re-married and moved to Florida. Ed’s folks were even poorer than they were, so she and her husband had no one to turn to. Every month saw them struggle harder to feed the kids and pay the bills on her waitressing salary, and Eve’s chance of going to college had pretty much disappeared when Linda, their firstborn, came along.
So here they were, with a hundred and fifty dollars to last them till Friday, an empty pantry, and Eddie was throwing a fit over fireworks! It was more than Eve could take, but she also knew how mean he could get when he didn’t get his way. He’d taken to slapping the kids around lately, in addition to her. She’d have to find a way to feed them, she supposed, but if she didn’t get at least a hundred bucks’ worth of fireworks, she knew Eddie would just send her back to the stand for more. Could she make fifty dollars stretch till Friday? She didn’t think she could – not with gasoline prices spiking up again.
She walked by their ten-year old Nissan Versa, which was down to a half tank of gas, and walked up towards the highway, where Big Bill’s Fireworks set up their stand every year. She had many happy memories of going there for the Fourth, loading up a shopping cart with bottle rockets, mortars, and Roman candles – back before Eddie got hurt, when they had enough money to put on a little fireworks show of their own every year. It was never that fancy, but when all the folks from the trailer park met down at the lake, between them they had enough to set the sky alight for a couple of hours. Not as fancy as the big municipal show up in Duncanville, but everyone agreed setting them off yourself was half the fun.
By the time she got to the main road, her nose had quit bleeding and her attitude was a bit better. She was still furious at her husband for hitting her, and for abusing her kids, but at least she’d quit sniffling and could put on her cheerful domestic mask for the neighbors. Let them be happy, she thought. No need to put her misery on display for all the world to see!
Big Bill’s was coming up on the left, but to her surprise, she saw that the small warehouse next door that had been boarded up for the last two years was re-opened, newly painted, and sporting a huge neon sign across the front facade thar read: MR. CAIN’S EXPLOSIVES EMPORIUM! FIREWORKS – NOVELTIES – PARTY TRICKS! On either side of the front door were two smaller signs. One read: HUGE SAVINGS! And the other said: OUR PRICES CAN’T BE BEAT!
Of course, every fireworks stand in the county had similar slogans - but considering that “Mr. Cain” had set up a block away from a long-established, locally owned dealer, she figured he might really be discounting his stuff to draw in new customers. It wouldn’t hurt to look, she thought as she crossed the parking lot, which was mostly empty. There was a huge black station wagon with American flags painted on each side parked right outside the door. As she got closer, she realized with some amusement that it was actually an old hearse! Well, she supposed you couldn’t beat that for cargo space in the back, short of a panel van.
She pushed the door open, and an electronic chime played a sprightly version of “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” There were no customers inside – rather odd, she thought, for the night before the Fourth. But brand loyalty was a thing in this small Texas town, and Big Bill had been selling pyrotechnics since before she was born.
The shelves were lined with colorful rockets, mortars, smoke bombs, and all manner of fireworks, some bearing labels she had never seen before. She picked up one curious rocket with a beautifully painted dragon on the side and saw an oddly familiar glyph where the name should have been. It took her a moment to realize it was a “G” rune from the Lord of the Rings books, like the one Gandalf inscribed his magical fireworks with! She laughed out loud at the cleverness of it.
“I can always tell when people have read the books,” a raspy voice said from behind the counter. Eve jumped and dropped the rocket back into the slot she’d pulled it from, then turned to face the speaker.
Behind the counter stood a tall, slender old man, wearing a faded Uncle Sam costume – a red and white striped coat, and blue star-spangled pants. His bow tie was navy blue, and his shoes gleaming white. He wore a white showboat hat with a red, white, and blue striped hatband. He even looked like a rather seedy version of Uncle Sam, except his hair and beard were wiry and brown, shot with streaks of grey, instead of white. A golden watch chain hung from the pocket of his vest.
“My lands,” she said. “Ain’t you hot in that getup?”
“That is why I am in here, with the air conditioning,” he said, “and not outside hawking my wares in the open. Darius Cain, at your service, young lady.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she said. “I hope you’re able to turn a profit, setting up just down from Big Bill. He’s been around a long time, and folks like him.”
“Oh, I find it is not the volume of transactions, but their quality, that makes my business a success,” he said. “Since you are my first customer in several hours, I am prepared to offer you a remarkable deal! Fill your cart, and let’s talk about prices when you are done.”
“Oh, Mister Cain,” Eve said, “You obviously have me confused with someone who has money! Me and Eddie are poorer than a pastor’s coon dog this year. Only reason I’m even here is. . . is. . .”
Suddenly the viciousness of the confrontation with her husband rose up and slapped her in the face, and she began to cry – silently at first, and then in racking sobs that shook her slender shoulders.
“My dear young lady, I did not mean to upset you,” said Mr. Cain, offering her a red, white and blue handkerchief. “This is supposed to be a joyous holiday! Here, pull up this stool and tell me what is the matter.”
To her astonishment, Eve found herself doing exactly as he said. She poured out her life story to this complete stranger, starting with her unplanned pregnancy and ending with the ugly fight she’d had with Eddie an hour before.
“He used to be sweet,” she said. “Oh, he was always selfish, and had a bit of a temper, but he hardly ever hit me before he got hurt, and he would go out of his way to make me laugh when I was sad. He was a good daddy to the kids, at first. But ever since he busted his leg, he’s just been mean as a snake.”
“Adversity tests character,” Mr. Cain said in his raspy voice. He had the slightest trace of a foreign accent, but Eve couldn’t quite place it. Not English, but still rather formal and proper. It was a soothing voice, she found.
“But adversity also reveals character,” he said. “Your husband is nothing more than a churl, an oafish cad, who has demonstrated his inability to be a suitable mate or provider for you and his children. Threatening to disown you and them if you refuse to placate his selfishness – that is beyond the pale.”
“You’re an educated man,” Eve said. “You might not believe it, but I was top of my class until I got pregnant. Straight A student, loved to read better than anything. Now I’ve lived among trailer trash for so long I sound just like them! They aren’t wicked folk, understand – just simple. They’ll fall for every sales pitch they hear, don’t believe anything unless they see it on FOX News, think Trump hung the moon! Do you know how long it’s been since I could talk about a book with someone, Mr. Cain?”
“Entirely too long, I would imagine,” he said. “You were meant for better things. It grieves me to see a bright flower withering in a patch of weeds.”
“You are kind to say so,” she said. “I’m sorry I unloaded on you, sir. It’s not like me to go spilling family secrets to a stranger.”
“I am not particularly known for kindness,” Mr. Cain said. “But I do have a certain reputation for being just – especially since, long ago as a young man, I committed an act of grave injustice and paid a dear price for it. That mistake – nay, call it what it was – that decision made me a wiser man, and a fairer one.”
“The world needs more justice,” Eve said. “Too many wicked people doing whatever they want and never paying a price, that is what’s wrong with our country!”
“And with the world, dear child,” Cain replied. “Well, I cannot right the world’s wrongs, but one thing I can do is perhaps help you in some small way. Fill your cart with all the fireworks you want – enough to make your foolish husband happy! And then meet me here at the counter.”
Eve could not help but be suspicious of his motives, but something in his voice compelled obedience. She pushed the cart up and down the aisle, throwing bottle rockets, Roman candles, and a couple of the smaller mortars in, along with strings of Black Cats, packs of sparklers, and some of the silly smoke bombs that her girls loved. Once she figured there was about a hundred- and fifty-dollars’ worth in the cart, she pushed it to the counter, hoping maybe Cain would let her have them for half price.
“A lovely selection!” he said. “Even your husband should be impressed with these choices. Let me tally them up for you.”
“I can put some back if I have to,” Eve said, but Cain dismissed that with a wave of his hand, scanning the labels with a hand-held bar code reader.
“Well, incorporating the discount I am giving you, that will come to seventeen dollars and fifty cents,” he finally said.
“What?” Eve’s jaw dropped. “Are you crazy, Mister? I mean, no disrespect, but that’s about a tenth of what all this would fetch at Big Bill’s!”
“You are not at Big Bill’s, my dear,” he said. “Do we have a bargain?”
Suspicion flared in her eyes, and she backed away from the counter.
“You’re not going to expect me to do anything weird for all this, are you?” she asked. “I’ve had enough dirty old men in my life!”
She shuddered, remembering fat old Troy Wallace and the awful things he’d made her do in exchange for paying all her bills and groceries for two weeks, back when Eddie was in the hospital.
“Madam, I assure you I have no carnal interest in you whatsoever!” Mister Cain said in a prudish tone.
“I am sorry, sir,” she said. “I didn’t mean to misjudge you, but -”
“I assume others have taken advantage of you in the past?” Cain asked, his eyes narrowing in anger. “It is disgusting that some men see a damsel in distress and immediately try to take advantage of her troubles for their own gratification! Nay, my dear, I simply want to help. Is my price agreeable to you?”
“Oh, yes sir,” she said. “More than agreeable! Eddie will be tickled pink!”
“Perhaps you might be interested in one more pyrotechnic novelty,” Cain said, reaching under the counter and pulling up a black box with gold letters across the top, reading BLOW THEM ALL AWAY! in large print.
“What do those do?” Eve said, finding the letters strangely attractive.
“I bought these from a very old Chinese man, descended from a long line of fireworks makers,” Cain said. “According to him, his family once made fireworks for the Emperors of China, as far back as the Han Dynasty. He claims these rockets are invested with a bit of magic from long ago.”
“Magic only exists in books,” Eve said. “There’s no room for it in this hard old world of ours anymore, if there ever was.”
“On the contrary, dear child,” said Cain. “I am older than I look, and I have traveled in many lands. Believe me, I have seen real magic, even in this hard, sterile world of ours. Don’t doubt the old Chinese wizard’s claim!”
“So, what do they do?” Eve asked, more curious than ever.
“The directions on the side explain everything,” he said.
“I don’t see any -” Eve began, but suddenly she saw lines of small, glowing golden script appear on the side of the box. She held it up closer to read what it said.
“Tired of the worries of life? Tired of the things that make you miserable? Why not BLOW THEM ALL AWAY? Use the special pen enclosed, and write on the side of each rocket the source of your troubles. When the fireworks go up, their magic will BLOW YOUR TROUBLES all away! Choose wisely, for once you are done writing, the results are guaranteed – and irrevocable!”
She looked at Mr. Cain curiously.
“How many rockets are in there?” she asked.
“I do not know,” he said. “I have never opened the package.”
“Then how do you know they will work?”
“I don’t know they will at all,” Cain said, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “But I believe they will!”
“I haven’t believed in magic since I read the Harry Potter books and then didn’t get an invitation to Hogwartz!” Eve said. “But I’ll give them a try. How much are they?”
“For you, two dollars and fifty cents,” he said.
She slid a twenty across the counter, then impulsively leaned across and kissed Cain on his bearded cheek.
“You’re a lifesaver, Mister Cain!” she said. “I have enough money left to feed my kids this week, thanks to you, and to make my husband happy at the same time!”
Cain favored her with a smile that sent an odd chill down her spine – not unpleasant but disturbing all the same.
“It has been my pleasure,” he said, putting her purchases into three large plastic bags and handing them across the counter to her. Then he gave her a small wink. “But do try to find it in your heart to believe in magic again, even just a little bit.”
“I will!” Eve said. “Thank you again!”
Eddie was goggle-eyed when he saw the huge load of fireworks she brought back.
“Damn, woman, what did you do? Let Big Bill take you behind the store?” he asked with a grin.
“I won a drawing,” she lied, “and got a bunch of free stuff!”
“We’re gonna have the best pile of fireworks of anybody in the whole park!” he said. “You done good, babe!”
“I even have some money left for groceries,” she said. “It’ll be tight, but we can manage.”
“Well, put the kids to bed and we can celebrate!” Eddie said, and favored her with a wink.
Eve sighed. “Sure, hon, if that’s what you want,” she replied.
The next night, as dusk descended on north central Texas, the inhabitants of the Bluebird’s Roost trailer park gathered down by the lake to celebrate the Fourth of July. Eddie stumped down on his cane, carrying two bags of fireworks in his free hand, while Eve and the kids came behind, lugging the rest of the fireworks and several folding chairs. Linda, the oldest, was pushing little Billy in his stroller and dragging a cooler behind her.
“The Lake,” as everyone called it, was a small city reservoir that was about a half mile in diameter and roughly rectangular. Bluebird’s Roost was a small recreation area along the shoreline was directly behind the trailer park that was named after it. There were a dozen picnic tables, already claimed by different families, and basketball and volleyball courts off to one side.
Jim Ferguson, the plumber and handyman who lived at the end of their street, had brought several four-foot lengths of PVC pipe which could be driven into the earth to launch bottle rockets from. Eddie handed him a beer from the family cooler and took one of the pipes, driving it into the moist clay a few feet from the lake shore.
“It’s not full dark yet,” he said. “Give the kids some smoke bombs to play with, and we’ll break out the rockets and mortars in another half hour.”
He sat back in his folding chair and watched as Linda and Peggy, the two older girls, lit up their sparklers and began running up and down the beach waving them.
“Get me another beer, Eve,” he said.
“All right, but there’s only the one six pack till Friday,” she reminded him.
Danny Tanner, their next-door neighbor, set up next to them with a Coleman lantern and a couple of Tiki torches to keep the mosquitoes at bay.
“Eve, start hauling those rockets out so we can get them ready to shoot – and set the mortar tube over there by our rocket pipe!” Eddie said. “My leg’s aching like hell from the walk down.”
Eve got the three mortar sets she’d bought and set the tubes up one at a time, then began pulling the rockets out of their packages and stacking them neatly by Eddie’s chair. Then, at the bottom of the stack, she saw the bright gold letters gleaming up from the long black box: BLOW THEM ALL AWAY!
She looked over at Eddie and saw that he was chatting with a couple of teenage girls that had walked by, regaling them with the story of how he’d fallen forty feet from the grain elevator and injured his leg. They were listening politely, feigning interest in what he was saying, and obviously looking for a chance to get away. This might be her only opportunity.
Eve slipped over to the lantern – it was getting dark outside already – and opened the box. Two slender black rockets lay inside, and with them was a rather fancy looking pen. She took the pen out and pulled off its cap, only to see that it was a true fountain pen with no sign of any ink cartridge to go in it! She sighed in frustration, but then she saw some more gold letters inside the lid.
“To blow your troubles away, prick your thumb with the point of the pen and write a single word on each rocket! Choose your words carefully.”
In a bizarre, fantasy world reality, she supposed that a blood signature made a certain amount of sense. Mr. Cain said that these rockets were made with real, ancient magic, and he had begged her to believe it, just a little bit.
“Why not?” she whispered and pricked her thumb. A few drops of blood welled up, and she dipped the pen in them. On the first rocket, she wrote one word on it – MONEY. On the second one, she scribbled a name – EDDIE.
“Too much of one and not enough of the other!” she said, tucking the pen back in the box and then stuffing the box into a nearby trash can.
Then she quietly added the two rockets to the stack between Eddie’s chair and hers. Then she pulled a cold bottle of lemonade from the cooler, pressing the glass to her forehead for a moment before popping the lid and taking a long swig. A few moments later Eddie settled back in his chair, took a drink of his beer, and looked over at his wife.
“It’s getting near dark,” he said. “Let’s shoot of a mortar or two to get things going, and then we’ll fire some rockets up!”
By now other families were shooting off Roman candles and bottle rockets, and a few were already lighting up their mortars.
“All right, Eddie,” she said, and grabbed one of the round mortar shells, unwinding its long fuse. She dropped it in the tube and used a long-stemmed kitchen lighter to ignite it. Eve backed away quickly – she knew how bad things could go if a mortar tube toppled over before the shell launched. But this one went off without a hitch, arcing high into the sky before exploding in a shower of multicolored sparks.
“That was nice, babe!” Eddie said. “I hate not being able to light these myself, but my leg is really throbbing tonight. Do another one!”
She wound up setting off all five shots in that pack, and Eddie cheered each one, his eyes lighting up like a child’s with each explosion. Really, she thought, that was a big part of his problem. He had simply never matured past his teenage self.
“Do a couple of rockets next!” he said. “Oh, Eve, you did so good! I can’t believe we have so many!”
“I want to fire these first,” she said, grabbing the two black rockets. In the gloom, away from the lamp, the faint red letters she’d written on their sides were nearly invisible. She set one of them facing up on the flat piece of concrete they always used for their rockets and lit the fuse.
With a huge shower of golden sparks, the first rocket shot high into the air and then exploded about two hundred yards over their heads. Green sparks flew everywhere, and as they drifted towards the ground, they coalesced into floating dollar signs - then they abruptly changed color to gold before vanishing in a series of secondary explosions.
“Wow!” Eddie said. “You made it rain, baby! Don’t you wish real money came that easy! Now, light another one.”
Eve took the other black rocket and stood it up on the pad, then lit the fuse and backed away. As it sparked, for a second she saw Eddie’s name, written in red, almost glowing on the side of the rocket. Then, with an even brighter gush of sparks than its predecessor, the rocket shot into the air. She followed its progress for a moment, but then it suddenly lurched sideways. The trail of sparks grew brighter as the nose of the rocket turned downward, and suddenly it was streaking straight at her! Eve threw herself to the ground, and the rocket shot a few feet over her head before slamming into the pile of fireworks next to Eddie’s chair. Seventeen rockets and six mortars were ignited and began shooting in all directions, sending celebrants scattering.
Eve s struggled to her feet and turned her head towards her husband. By the light of spluttering fuses and bursting mortars, she saw Eddie struggling to his feet, trying to get away – but then one of the rockets she’d bought flew into his open mouth. She saw him frantically try to grab at the rocket and pull it away from his face - and then it exploded, the noise and the shock wave throwing her backwards. She hit her head on the concrete and passed out.
Two hours later, she sat in the back on an ambulance, her eyebrows singed and one eardrum ruptured but otherwise unharmed.
“I don’t think Eddie had time to feel a thing,” Chief Barnhardt told her. “One of the bigger rockets hit him in the face right as it blew, and – well, he went quick. I’ve gotten statements from everyone who was nearby, and it seems like this was nothing but a crazy, tragic accident. Your kids are fine, and there seem to have been only a few minor injuries – except for your poor husband. I am very sorry for your loss, Eve. I know he had fallen on hard times, but Eddie was a good boy.”
She managed a weak smile.
“He was that,” she said. “I think, in the end, being a boy was what he was best at. I’m going to miss the boy I knew.”
“I will ask Deputy Maxwell to take you and the kiddoes home, OK?” he said. “The doctor gave you some pills that will help them go to sleep.”
“Billy always sleeps good,” she said. “I’m glad the girls were further down the beach and didn’t see when Eddie – when he -”
“When he died?” the chief said.
Eve nodded, but what she thought to herself was that they at least hadn’t seen the top of their daddy’s head blown sky high by a runaway rocket. His scalp and the top of his skull were still missing, she’d heard the coroner say.
When they got home, she saw that the light on their old answering machine was flashing. She’d wanted to get rid of the land line for years, but Eddie had insisted on keeping it, and the 1990’s answering machine that came with it still worked. She hugged her girls and brewed them some warm tea, then gave them the sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed for them. They were both in shock, but after some tears and some soothing talk from their mother, both of them finally drifted off. Little Billy was already asleep in his stroller; she changed his diaper and put him in the battered crib where his sisters had both slept before him.
Eve poured herself a beer – she rarely drank, but after this night, she felt she needed it. After half the glass was gone, she went over to the answering machine and pressed PLAY. Her mother’s voice still sounded formal and clipped, like the English teacher she had been for thirty years before retiring.
“Eve, this is your mother,” she said.
Way to state the obvious there, mom, Eve thought.
“Something rather remarkable has happened. Your stepfather and I went shopping last week, and on a whim, I decided to purchase one of those tickets for that Powerball thingie. You know, the one with the seven hundred-million-dollar prize? Well, I was one of the three winners! After taxes, Melvin and I are going to be coming into nearly two hundred million dollars. We decided to split it evenly between ourselves and all our children, so your share will come to about forty million dollars. But honey, I do NOT want you to share it with that worthless, abusive husband of yours! You will have enough to give you and the three grandkids a great life, but not with that deadbeat holding you back. If you will ditch him, I can promise you you’ll never have to work again!”
Eve pressed the “STOP” button and then rewound the tape and listened to the message again. Unable to contain herself, she leaned against the counter as her sides shook with hysterical laughter. She laughed till she cried, and cried till she laughed, and then she played the message one more time.
“Sure, Mom, that won’t be a problem!” she said before staggering off to bed.
The next morning, on the way to the grocery store, she saw that the old warehouse which had held MR. CAIN’S EXPLOSIVES EMPORIUM was once more boarded up and empty. Somehow, she was not surprised.
“Magic,” she said softly, and went on to buy food for her children.
