Strange Faces: Part 8

“Thank you for calling Mountain Dewp, my name’s Christy, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Christy, I recently purchased some of your product, and I have a little complaint”

Being the most practical of our group, Sancho had convinced me to call the number on the bottle.  To him, the straightforward approach was always best.  If he was in the movie Speed, he would have shot the hostage just like Keanu Reeves, removing them from the equation and taking away the hostage takers leverage, because to him, that was the fastest and most practical way to a solution.  The hostage may disagree, but you can’t argue with results.  Except, probably a world weary police captain, African American of course, who would be forced to suspend Sancho, asking for his badge and gun, until a formal inquiry was completed by Internal Affairs,  all while tiredly muttering “ I'm too old for this shit.”

Too old for this shit, and he still made it through 4 movies.

I'm sorry, that analogy got away from me.  Where was I?

“I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can.”

“Well, you say that.  Just wait.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Well, Christy, it seems that after ingesting some of your, *ahem*, fine product, I am now experiencing events of a supernatural variety.”

“Ah, I see.  How can I help with that?”

“How can you help?  Well, you can tell me how to get rid of ‘supernatural apparitions’.”

“ I'm sorry sir, but I'm unable to assist with that.  We’re not trained in that area.”

“Ok, well, just so you know, I plan on filing a complaint with the Better Business Bureau.”

“That is of course your option, but the warning label on our product will indemnify us from any type of liability.  But perhaps I could offer you some coupons.”

“What the fuck am I going to do with coupons?  Offer my apparition half off his next purchase?”

"I'm just doing my job, sir."

“So were the Nazis, and that didn't turn out well either.”

“What?”

At this point, my brother interjected, “Dude, just hang up.  I'm almost done setting up.”

Turning to my brother, whom I have decided to call, oh let’s say, Buster, I said to the phone, “Listen, Christy, this is pointless.  I'm gonna hang up now.  I would say it’s been a pleasure talking to you, but it hasn't.”

“Well, thank you for calling Mou-“

Yeah, whatever, I thought as I hung up.   “Show me what you got” I said to Buster.

“Follow me” he replied.

Heading outside, we found Sancho in the back yard, putting the finishing touches on Busters plan. 

“What happened on the phone?” he asked.

I said “ I'm getting coupons.  What’s all this?”

  In the middle of the yard was a large circle made of salt.  Four candles were ready to be lit on what I assumed were the four cardinal points.  In the center of the circle was a makeshift altar, made from a disused barbecue grill that had clearly seen better days.  Resting atop the altar was Busters athame, or ceremonial dagger.  In reality, he didn't have an athame, but I had loaned him a freshly dish washed butter knife that I thought would work just as well. 

“Did you just pour salt all over my lawn?” I asked Sancho.  “You know nothing is gonna grow there now, right?”

Sancho said, “It’s a shitty backyard anyway.  Besides, your brother made me do it.”

Turning to Buster, I asked “So, what’s the plan then?”

“Well,” he replied, “first we cast the circle, being inside of course.  That will provide us some protection from any outside forces.  Then we summon Scooter, using this mirror I found in the garage” He pointed to what I guessed was a large mirror covered with a blanket, leaning against a tree. 

“ Wasn't that grandma’s mirror?” I asked.  “We’re not gonna destroy it or anything are we?  Mom will be pissed.”

“No, no” he said offhandedly.  “ I'm sure it will be fine.” Continuing with his plan, he said “finally, once we've summoned the apparition, we simply banish him to a dark oblivion.”  He made it all sound so simple.

I said, “You can do that?”

“Not sure” he said.  “But we’re gonna find out”.