III. Adactylous Arms of the House

Franco was sick of selling magazine subscriptions door-to-door but was far too unmotivated to look for another job. Besides, he needed the exercise. His midsection had grown into a spare tire and his thighs were starting to rub together when he walked. Luckily his face hadn’t gained any weight but still, he really did need the exercise.

He had been in town for two days but hadn’t sold a single subscription. That wasn’t totally unexpected. A lot of these medium-sized towns were hard to crack but there was a good chance he’d stumble on a whole neighborhood that would make the trip worthwhile. Housewives who were interested in the latest tabloids or a generic sports magazine for their already-preoccupied husbands. Young women interested in the newest fashion despite having an income insufficient enough to keep up with it. They were all potential customers.

The house Franco stood in front of now looked at least a hundred years old, a true treasure of the Victorian age. He figured he’d like to live in a similar house if he ever made enough money. He knew it was not a realistic goal but it was still something that crept in the back of his mind from time to time. Until then he would have to be satisfied with living in a one-room apartment over a garage of a farmhouse.

Franco knocked because he hated ringing the doorbell. It was so impersonal, so abrupt. A knock was flesh-on-wood and was friendlier. He found it was very successful in warming up to potential customers.

The only answer to his knock was an unidentifiable noise. Franco knocked again.

He heard the clip-clopping of high heels across a wood floor.

The door opened with a groan and a woman in her forties answered. Her hair was severe: deep black with all straight strands and sharp angles. “Yes?”

“Hello, mam. My name is Franco and I’m selling magazine subscriptions…”

“I’ll stop you right there.” The woman opened the door wide, revealing her enormous breasts that tested the fabric of her blouse to its limits. “First mistake you made was calling me ‘mam’. No woman, no matter what her age, likes to be called mam.”

“I, uh…”

“Call a woman ‘miss’ or use their name if you know it.”

Franco blushed. He’d met some assertive customers in his line of work but none who were forceful about something so insignificant. His face was on fire, his heart pounding his confidence into pulp. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning around to walk away because he knew he would not be able to go through with the sales pitch without sounding completely embarrassed.

The woman stepped out onto the porch. “Hey, I didn’t say you had to leave. I don’t recall telling you I wasn’t interested in your magazines.”

Franco stopped and turned to see her with a small smile on her face. He also saw the shape of her large nipples poking out of her blouse. “Oh.” He forced the grin he used to charm female customers.

“Come on in,” she said. “I’m Eurice.”

“Hi Eurice,” he said, following her into the house. “Thanks for your time.” He walked behind her, his eyes instinctively moving to her rear end as it strained against the skirt.

When Franco was able to move his eyes away from the woman, the first thing he noticed was the lack of décor. Nothing in the house indicated that anyone was actually living there. However, there also was no indication the woman was in the process of moving: no boxes or piles of belongings prepared to be packed.

“Would you like some water?” Eurice said.

“Yes, thank you.” He knew better not to decline any sort of beverage or food in this sort of situation. When hospitality was extended, a salesman should always take advantage.

Eurice walked to the kitchen and out of sight. Franco heard the clinking of glasses and the running of a sink. More clinking and then a cough. She came back into the living room holding a cloudy glass of water.

“It’s just bubbles,” she said. “The water pressure in the sink is incredible.”

Franco took the glass and tried looking into the water without appearing to be suspicious.

Eurice said, “Have a seat on the couch and you can show me what you’re selling.”

Franco held the glass with his right hand, hoping it wouldn’t slip from his weak grip. His arthritis had been acting up lately.

Eurice held her gaze on his hand and said, “Is your hand okay?”

“Oh,” Franco said. “Uh, yes. Thank you.” He looked for a place to set it down before he was tempted to take a sip. He sat down on the couch that lacked any style or design while he watched Eurice sit across from him on a plain white chair. In between them was a table made out of unfinished wood. Franco placed the glass on it and opened his messenger bag.

He said, “We have quite a few titles to choose from, some at a considerable discount. In fact we have the largest selection of discounted magazines in the state.” He pulled out a full-color catalog of titles his company offered. Eurice took the booklet and proceeded to peruse it for several minutes.

She stopped on the last page. “Well, this is interesting.”

“What’s that?”

“This magazine here,” she said, sitting up straight. “It has my brother’s name on it.” She handed it to Franco.

The catalog page showed the cover for the second issue of IMPERCEPTUS with an article by Maurent Drake. Franco said, “Wow, you didn’t know about this?”

“No. I haven’t spoken to my brother in quite a while.”

“What’s this about?” He perused the cover but had no idea about the subject of the article. “Loop panic? Imperium waves?”

Eurice rolled her eyes. “Same old junk he’s been writing about since he was a child. Frankly I have no idea what it all means.”

Franco knew this was the flashpoint of his sale. Either she’d kick him out for reminding her of her estranged brother or she’d end up buying something from him as a result of feeling a connection since she had shared some personal information.

As soon as he was going to inquire a little more about her brother, there was a sound from upstairs like a sack of stones dropping to the floor.

Eurice said, “That’s just my nephew.” She gestured to the catalog. “My brother’s son.”

“Do you think he’d like to look at the catalog? I mean, at this magazine his father is in?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.” She stared at Franco. He didn’t know whether he should hand her back the catalog or just get up to leave. After several minutes of staring in silence, she said, “You haven’t touched your water.”

Franco looked down at the glass. It was still cloudy. He leaned forward and grabbed the glass, brought it to his mouth, and let the warm water meet his lips.

Eurice was still staring as he took a sip and swallowed.

Footsteps stomped down the stairs. Franco looked at the young man entering the room. Eurice said, “Lucasse, something wrong?”

The young man said, “No, I just heard you talking to someone. Who is it?”

Franco stood up and offered his hand. “I’m Franco. I’m, uh, selling magazine subscriptions.”

Lucasse took a step back. “I heard someone mention my father.”

“Uh, yeah, he….” Franco said but was interrupted by Eurice.

“Looks like your father wrote an article,” she said, grabbing the catalog and throwing it at Lucasse’s feet. “Last page.”

Franco watched as the young man slowly bent down, picked up the catalog, and looked at the cover of the magazine his father was in.

“Can I order this?” Lucasse said.

“Well, the catalog is for subscriptions to each magazine not a specific issue,” Franco said.

“But I want this one. Where can I get this one?” Lucasse’s fingers were tracing invisible shapes on the page.

“Uh, well, I can try to maybe find something to point you in the right direction. Honestly, my company doesn’t have much to do with the individual magazines. We’re more on the distribution side of things but I’ll see what I can do.”

Eurice stood up. “You don’t have to do that. My nephew has more than enough reading material.”

“I want to read the article, Aunt Eurice,” Lucasse said, rolling up the catalog and placing it in his pants pocket.

“Give that back, please,” Eurice said, her face turning harsh and shadowy. Franco thought she looked like twenty years old than before. Wrinkles appeared where there had been none.

He said, “Oh, it’s okay. I have plenty of catalogs. He can keep it.”

“No, it’s not okay,” Eurice said. “It’ll only fuel his obsession and allow for another one of his…..episodes.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Lucasse said. “I have every right to know about this.”

Franco watched as the young man and his aunt stared each other down. The living room grew darker, black tendrils creeping up the walls and across the ceiling. Even Lucasse’s face was becoming covered in blackness.

Something was wrong.

While the room was filling with octopus ink darkness, Franco felt his legs buckle and his stomach turning inside out. He fell to the floor, his nose hitting the wood like a hammer. The last thing he saw was Eurice’s dark high heels clip-clop towards his face, finally engulfing him in a warm, malodorous abyss.

Then: tulips.