X:37/Y:40 (Chapter Two)
Title: X:37/Y:40 (Chapter 2: Blob)
Word Count: 4,047
Summary: George and Brian go down to an antique shop, Hammy and Cobbs, to buy a gift for Brian's mother, who was celebrating her birthday very soon. But when George finds a lava lamp in the store and takes it home, he soon realizes that the lamp was anything but ordinary.
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George woke up to a Saturday morning, remembering the note that he found last night. He saw that the note was on his bedside table, the gold ink on the paper still glistening. He looked at it with foreboding; the lettering might've looked elegant and beautiful, but he had a feeling that the message it contained was otherwise a sinister omen. But he couldn't let anyone know that it bothered him, not especially his mom. Her "sixth sense" of knowing something wrong made it hard for him to keep secrets from her. Besides, what would she tell him? Would she understand? And what does she know about it, anyway?
George started thinking that it wasn't anything serious. Why am I so worried about it, he thought, it's nothing. It can't mean anything. It couldn't have been sent to me, it must be a mistake. That's it, this is all a mistake. Besides, it's just a note.
Just a note. Some stupid, well-written note.
George went down for breakfast, feigning a cheery smile. Even though he knew he was making too much of a fuss over some note, he couldn't help but worry. Maybe it was meant for me, he thought, his mom presenting a platter of waffles in front of him. No, it can't be--it can't!
He kept thinking about that note all breakfast, until his mother had said something to him that took his mind off the note for the rest of the day.
"Wait, George," His mom said as George was about to sprint back up to his room. "Brian called an hour ago. He said that you and he were supposed to go to Hammy and Cobbs today."
George stopped halfway up the stairs. Hammy and Cobbs was that old novelty shop just outside Oakwood. Brian asked him yesterday if George could come with him--he just didn't say why he'd be going there. George though, agreed to going with him.
"You are going with him, aren't you?" His mom asked him, expectant for an answer.
"Y-yeah," George answered, stuttering. "I will."
"Which makes me wonder," His mom said, stopping him again as he was just about to trot up the stairs. "What are you going to do in that old novelty shop? I can't imagine you buying an old train set or one of those dreamcatchers there."
"Oh no mom, I won't be buying anything. Brian just asked me to go with him. I don't know why."
"Hmm," She rubbed her chin. "You know, I just remembered right now--Brian's mom will be celebrating her birthday in three days. I think Brian's going to get her a gift. You might as well do the same thing--although I daresay she can be quite picky with her presents."
George kept that in mind as he hurriedly took a shower, slipped on some new clothes, grabbed his favorite denim backpack from his bedroom closet and dashed down just in time to hear a doorbell ring out as he descended down the stairs. Just as he expected, it was Brian, looking ready himself to get to Hammy and Cobbs.
Just a few blocks away from their houses, they saw above the skies above them darken, clouds dancing above them in a melancholic waltz. George got the feeling that everything would go horribly wrong today, and this morning was just the start of a horrible chain of misfortunes. He swallowed hard, hoping that he was thinking wrong.
"It's great that your mom allowed you to go with me to Hammy and Cobbs," Brian said cheerily. "I really need some advice on what I should buy there."
"For you or for your mom?" George asked. Immediately Brian looked at him, George looking back knowingly. "I know it'll be your mom's birthday soon, Brian; I know that you want to get something for your mom. I figured that you thought that Hammy and Cobbs would be the best place to get a present for her. Am I correct so far?"
Brian nodded.
"But the one thing that I think that's strange," George mused, "Is that you chose such an old-fashioned, worn-down shop like Hammy and Cobbs to buy a present for your mom."
"Don't blame me," Brian said firmly, "It's not my fault my mom likes antiques. Maybe you forgot the fact that my mom owns more antiques than anyone else in Midelle."
George remembered all too well the times he had spent in Brian's house. It was like being in a museum; with a small Wild West diorama being the first thing you see when entering their house, it was just the beginning of all the odds and ends that you would see at their house. Dreamcatchers, small-scale models of cars popular from times forgotten, clunky vinyl records, magazines and books from decades ago, and even a mailbox from five decades ago--their house was like a small museum for anyone who feels like taking a stroll down memory lane.
"I guess you're right," George admitted, "But then you have to wonder if your house can take any more of the old stuff your mom so desperately want."
Brian chuckled. "I'm pretty sure she'll find a space for it. My mom will do absolutely anything and everything to find a place in her house for anything antique."
The walk to Hammy and Cobbs was a short one; it took them about fifteen minutes from their houses to the street where the shop was in. Gramophone Avenue was so-called because three decades ago, the avenue was home to some of the most prominent record shops anywhere. Many people, mostly DJs came frequently to this spot to find the newest material fresh from the presses. Of course, that was three decades ago, when vinyl records were the technological breakthrough of that decade. Even after three decades, though, some shops there still sell records and, more recently, cassette tapes.
The old shop that was Hammy and Cobbs had a definite Old World touch to it. The shop window was still crowded with various stuff, all from different decades, while the shop's name was displayed on the top part of the window, its lettering reminiscent of the way it was in the 60s. The statue of a tribeswoman stood outside, greeting shopgoers with a stern smile as she did for the past three decades. All in all, it was a real testimony to how full of history the store really was. George and Lucas felt that too as they stood outside the store.
"I've never been to this place," George said, gawking at the stuff on display. "But I'm glad that I agreed to coming with you. This place is just--awesome."
"I know," Brian agreed, also eyeing the objects on display. "I've been here a good number of times already, but frankly, this place never fails to amaze me."
"I see why--all this stuff, it sure makes me wonder how it was living in those years."
"They always say that these objects tell their own stories of the year they were born in," A man who came out of the shop said to them, looking down on them. He had crooked glasses, faded grey hair and a beard that would match Santa Claus'. It was the shop owner, Jeremiah Cobbs.
"Mr. Cobbs," Brian said, looking at George. "This is George. You know, who I've told you stories about."
George looked at Brian. Stories?
"Ah, so you're that kid," Mr. Cobbs eyed him curiously, his eyes scrutinizing him with much thought. "Brian has told me much about you. Says that you like small-scale figures of vintage cars. Well son, I'll tell you now that you'll find lots of that here."
"I'm--not here to look for any of that," George said apologetically. "I--just came with Brian because he wants to find a gift for her mom. It'll be her birthday."
"So he's told," Mr. Cobbs said, "And his mom has been one of my best customers yet. Knows a lot about the decades past as I do. Although from what I gather, she likes the 80s more."
"So Mr. Cobbs," Brian said in a low tone, "What do you have that my mom would like?"
Mr. Cobbs scratched his head, thinking pensively. "Well, I think I might have something that she'll love. Come in you two, I think it's about to rain anytime soon."
They entered the shop, and George was just blown away by everything that was in the shop. The shop was lined with antiques from wall to wall; there wasn't much room to move in with all the stuff cluttered around the store.
George looked around. A wall was lined with different types of clocks, most of them cuckoo clocks. At that second, some of them opened their little hatches, and out came the cuckoos, chirping cheerily. Below these clocks was a coffee table on which countless Russian nesting dolls sat--some small, some big, but all of them possessing the same black eyes and tiny mouth. They stared at George, as if they were watching his every move. Slightly terrified by their stares, George looked away. He then saw a long divider on which a couple of ancient-looking rugs hung on. He placed a hand on one of them, drawing it back and seeing that his palm was slightly grey with dust. Brushing the dust on his pants, he moved on deeper into the shop. Glass displays of small-scale car models lined one wall; the opposite wall had different guns and weapons resting on mahogany shelves. At the heart of the store was Mr. Cobbs' most prized possession--a set of jewelry kept safe in a thick glass display behind the counter. He says that it's the first set of antiques he's ever had, making them some of his oldest objects in his store.
"I was ten when I my mother gave these to me," He explained, gazing proudly at the jewelry. "And ever since I've been giving them the utmost care. These, my dear boys, are the crown jewels of Hammy and Cobbs."
George looked at Mr. Cobbs, who was beaming at the jewels. "How old are they exactly, Mr. Cobbs?"
"More than fifty years old," He answered quickly. "But that's not counting the years they were passed down my family. If you do, though--probably more than a hundred and sixty years old."
George felt his inside leapt as he heard how old it was. And yet, they look new, he thought.
"But enough about me," Mr. Cobbs digressed. "Let's talk about your mom's present. And this, Brian, is probably one of the best things I could give to her…"
He disappeared into a room behind the counter, and seconds later, he reappeared with a sculpture of what looked like dolphins surrounding a beautiful blue-skinned girl who seemed to be conjuring these dolphins with her hands. He placed it gently on the counter, Brian looking astonished and intrigued.
"A classic sculpture by the late Pharael," Mr. Cobbs said with a straightforward tone, "If my memory serves me, he called it Aparri, Princess of Dolphins. She loves her sculptures, doesn't she, Brian?"
Brian nodded enthusiastically. "How much?"
"Oh no, Brian, you won't be paying anything for it," Mr. Cobbs said, "I'm giving it to you for free. Consider it a gift from me to your mom."
Brian looked like he had won the lottery.
"Seriously?" He said, slightly stuttering. "Wow, Mr. Cobbs, this is--I just--you rock, plain and simple! My mom will definitely love this!"
"I'm pretty sure she will," Mr. Cobbs said, beaming. "But if I were you, I'd get this on her birthday itself. I'm sure she'll be surprised."
"Oh yes, she will! Did you hear that, George, I have a free gift for--"
But George wasn't listening; rather, he was staring at one of the objects placed high up on an ebony shelf. He looked intrigued; the object he was looking at gave an eerie purple glow that projected a purple halo above it. Mr. Cobbs looked up and said, "See something you like, George?"
"I'm just wondering," George murmured, "What's making that light up there."
Taking a few steps backward, Mr. Cobbs saw what he was looking at. He then disappeared back into the room, later reappearing with a tall metal ladder. He propped it up directly below the shelf and climbed up it. Careful not to lose his footing and fall off the ladder, he gently scooped up the glowing object and brought it down with him. George instantly recognized what it was--a purple lava lamp.
"This thing used to be popular back in the 60s and 70s," Mr. Cobbs said, still gripping the lamp with both hands. "But I can imagine why this caught your eye--even up to now, it still looks pretty--groovy, if you will."
George chuckled. "My mom used to tell me how she had more than a dozen of these lamps back in college. I guess I know now why she liked these things so much."
"So you want it?" Brian asked in a no-nonsense sort of way. George hesitated to answer, scratching his head.
"Well, my bedroom needs something unusual to make it unique in a way," He said absentmindedly, "But I reckon mom would want to start another lava lamp collection."
"Well your mom's in luck," Mr. Cobbs said, "I think I still have a few more of these things lying around somewhere. But tell you what, George--let me give this to you for free, as a gift, if you may. Call me crazy, but I feel like you'll have a use for this someday, George."
Mr. Cobbs handed over the lamp to George. He held the lamp as if it was a fragile, porcelain vase that would easily shatter if it fell to the ground. He grinned broadly at it, then looked up to Mr. Cobbs and said, "Thank you so much, Mr. Cobbs."
"Please," Mr. Cobbs scruffed George's hair. "Call me Chester. I feel younger when people call me that."
George flashed another smile at Mr. Cobbs. Brian looked at the lava lamp; blobs of wax floated lazily in the neon purple liquid that gave out that eerie glow George saw. George then stuffed the lamp in his backpack, a faint glow of purple emanating from the bag.
The boys spent a few more minutes looking around when Brian decided it was time to go home. Brian and George said their goodbyes to Mr. Cobbs (Or as George called him, Chester), who was polishing the muzzle of a small revolver, brandishing it as if he was going to shoot someone.
They exited the store, a drizzle meeting them outside. Despite this, Brian thinks that they could get home without getting too drenched. George agreed and said they needed to get home quick, partly because their parents might've been expecting them to come home soon--and partly because he saw something that made him feel really agitated.
It was the school bully, Mick, and his troupe of friends, who were like him--big, mean bullies. Mick was the tallest--and the plumpest of the bunch; each arm was as fat as a piglet, while his plump cheeks always looked like they were stuffed with food. His curly, short hair exposed his huge forehead and his stony black eyes. Don't be fooled, though; even though he's got a weight problem (or at least, that's what his mom thinks; Mick thinks that being fat is okay, mainly because his punches hurt more with huge arms and hands), he can run--and as every bully does, give a beating.
It was George and Brian's misfortune to have been spotted from afar by Mick, who was with his gang on their way to Mick's house. He spotted them, George catching sight of them, and looked at the others, then looking back at the two. George's heart pounded. He knew he was one of those bullies who'll give you a sound beating, regardless of who you were. And immediately he knew they were in trouble, as Mick shouted out to his gang, "Get them!"
Without much thought, George seized Brian's arm tightly and ran, dragging him along and taking him by surprise.
"Hey George," Brian said, surprised, "What's the rush? I know we're supposed to get home soon, but--"
"Not now, Brian," George said, even more agitated than before. "You'll never guess who's after us!"
Brian looked puzzled. "Who?"
"Mick and his gang!" George gasped. Immediately this made Brian panicky as well, making him run alongside George, his arm free from George's unusually strong grip. They were making ground; Mick and his gang were running after them, but they were losing them. George looked back, relieved to see them out of sight, but continued to run. So did Brian, whose shoelaces chose an inconvenient time to be untied. This caused Brian to step on one of them, making him trip and fall.
George only looked back to see Brian fallen seconds later, when he was considerably far from him. George stopped, thinking of going back to help him. But then again, Mick was on his trail, so he should run and save himself. But what about Brian? He couldn't defend himself against Mick and his friends, so he'll be in a much worse condition if he leaves him. Fight…or flee?
Immediately George's mind was made up; he ran back to Brian, who still wasn't able to get up. George threw one of Brian's arms around his shoulders, hoisting him up and both of them fleeing. But they were moving at a sluggish pace, and Mick was getting closer to them. Soon, it was too late--Mick caught up, pushing George down to the ground, Brian falling on his back. Brian scuttled back, meeting George, whose fall was cushioned by his backpack. This made George worry; the lava lamp was in the backpack. What if it broke? But at that point, that was the least of his worries, as Mick's gang caught up to them as well, now circling the two, trapping them.
"You should've known," Mick hissed, "That no one can outrun me. And for that, you'll go first…" He was looking at George. His stare made George's heart suddenly beat like crazy.
Mick grabbed George by the collar, seizing him up with one strong tug. George's feet were lifted off the ground as Mick clenched his fist, getting ready to wallop him. George's heart was beating like a jackhammer; his mind burdened with panic.
This is it, George thought, I'm gonna get it now. But at least I didn't leave Brian behind--maybe that's something to be happy about…
But just as Mick was ready to take a swing at George, something was rattling fiercely in George's backpack. Mick caught sight of it, dropping George down to the concrete sidewalk, seizing the backpack from him. Mick angrily opened it, only to get the shock of his life when something clung onto his face, making him stagger backwards and fall onto the lawn of a nearby house.
George looked at Mick. On his face clung what looked like purple slime, which started to engulf Mick's whole head. Staggering to get it off, Mick clutched at the clime, trying to pry it off his head, finding that it stuck to him like glue. Finally, seconds later, he was able to throw it aside onto the grass. But the purple slime wasn't done yet.
The slime seemed to gather up size, growing bigger and bigger with every second, until it was bigger than Mick. It assumed the shape of a monster with huge claws and mouth, roaring angrily at Mick. The slime monster edged closer to Mick, who was now terrified out of his wits. Another loud roar did the trick; Mick yelled and ran back out of sight, his friends following, also terrified.
George saw the whole thing, completely flabbergasted. He then turned to the purple slime monster, which looked at him and Brian intently. George was terrified; would the creature harm him as it almost did with Mick?
But surprisingly, the creature shrunk down, its shape now that of a dog. It then scampered to George, licking his face, just as a dog would. George then reclaimed his bag, lifting the lava lamp out. It didn't look damaged; in fact, it looked like brand new; without scratch or crack. Then it suddenly came to him: The purple slime creature came from his lava lamp.
Brian, who also saw the whole thing from behind George, was also in surprise. He looked at the blob dog, which wagged its tail frantically. George turned to him, words failing them both.
"George," Brian finally spoke, "What is that thing?" He looked at the purple creature, its tail still wagging wildly.
George himself also didn't know what it was. "I don't know," He said, his voice slightly trembling. "But whatever this thing is, it saved us."
"So what does that make it--our friend?"
"Probably," George shrugged, still looking at the lamp. "But now I wanna know how we get this thing back into the lamp."
And in an answer to his question, the purple dog leapt up, getting sucked into the lava lamp like a genie would be in its own lamp. The lamp then glowed vibrantly like it did before.
"Whoa," George said, words failing him again. Both of them started walking back home again, not saying a word. When they got home, George just waved at Brian, who waved back at him, a bleak smile on his face. As George knocked on the door to his house, he wondered how he'd explain all that had transpired to his mother--or if he should tell him at all. His mother would probably dismiss it as a product of his wild imagination anyways, so why bother telling her?
The door swung open, his mother at the door, a smile on her face.
"So," She said in a low tone, "How did it go?"
George struggled to find the right words to tell her. "F-fine, "He stammered, "Went pretty well. Mr. Cobbs even gave me this for free." George then produced the lava lamp from his backpack. His mom looked intrigued.
"A lava lamp," She said, staring at it and looking interested. "Haven't seen one of those for a long time now. Why, by the way, would you want that?"
"I--" George stopped. He remembered how he said back at the store that he would give it to his mom, but now he didn't know if he should give it to her. Not with a strange creature living in it. "I--wanted to give this to you, but I found something better for you. But you still like these things, right mom?"
She looked away, a pensive look on her face. "Yes George, I still do," She replied, "But I guess I lost interest in it after I graduated from college. But I'm glad that you're also getting into this whole lava lamp craze. I'll tell you now, it's not as popular as it was years ago, but let me assure you this: Lava lamps never lose their charm."
And with that, George nodded at her, smiling warmly. He then went up to his bedroom, placing the lamp on his bedside table. He stared at it for a few moments, admiring the blobs of wax floating lazily in it. It never loses its charm, as his mom said. And as always, George knew she was right. He then tapped the glass of the lamp lightly with his finger, the lamp flickering back at him, as if it knew that he tapped on it. George thought how his lamp contained something extraordinary, but it acted like it was his pet. George always wanted a pet, but never got around to asking his mom for a dog or cat. But now, he couldn't care less if he didn't have a cat or dog. Because now he had something better--a shapeshifting purple blob. And it was his.
"I think," George whispered to the lamp, "I'll name you Blob." The lamp flickered again.