Fantastic Fiction Story About Kids Shopping
By Sultan McGee
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"Can we go, Mom?"
"Stay right here, Emmet. Where I can see you."
She didn't have to say the rest. I hear it all the time: I won't be long. Don't run off. I don't want to go looking for you. We were downtown and I was tagging along again. It's what I have to do when Mom and Dad run errands. They stay real busy keeping one eye on the errand and the other on me, while I'm doing nothing because that's all there is for me to do. The whole idea to keep me out of trouble and from getting kidnapped or something. This time I knew it would be a long wait. Mom was helping Mrs. Witt paint flags on the windows of the hardware store. For the 4th of July next Monday. There was a lot more talking than painting. I had to be there because my cousin Alice couldn't come over and sit.
The shops across the street were fixed up and painted in different colors to look like the Old West. There's an old-time barber pole and a wooden carving of an Indian Chief, and fancy iron posts for tying horses, only you never see horses except when there's a parade.
This time Mom brought along a book for me to read with pictures and all. It showed how the odd shapes of animals help them survive. The ones that hunt, like tigers and wolves, have eyes close together so they can see straight ahead what they're hunting. And the ones that get hunted, like rabbits and deer, have eyes set far apart. That way they can see what’s coming from the sides and even from behind. If the anteater didn't have such a long snout, it would probably starve. Big ears look funny on people but they help elephants keep cool. There was a lot about birds and bugs, too. It was actually pretty interesting, but after lunch on the hot sidewalk I was getting sleepy. For a while, I watched people shop across the street. Then I crawled into one of the lawn chairs in front of the store and fell asleep.
The next thing I knew, I was in a store, looking at waterbeds and hot tubs. Sitting there in a huge tub was a hippo holding a bunch of balloons. It turned out he was the manager.
"Would you like to bounce on a waterbed? he asked. Or soak in one of these hot tubs?"
I don't remember actually shopping, I was just there, and I felt like I'd walked in on Aunt June taking a bath. I didn't know what to say so I asked him what the balloons were for.
"They help me sell hot tubs. People relax when they see the balloons. Doesn't scare them so much when I open my mouth to talk prices. Here, have one." He handed me a red balloon on a string. I thought it was amazing he could do that with those huge feet of his. The whole thing was really strange. I also wondered what he was doing selling waterbeds.
"I can't get by on tidbits and snacks. I need my greens, large helpings. If I don't sell, I'll dwindle away. Soon look like a stork. To tell you the truth, my uncle got me this job. To keep me out of his kitchen."
"You're the first hippo salesman I've ever seen." I was saying things I couldn't believe, and he was talking the way you'd think a hippo never could.
"I was nervous at first, but you know what they say: "Go for it!" Of course, an empty stomach got me motivated."
"Are you doing OK?"
"Funny thing is, I turned out to be pretty good at this. A big mouth gives me an edge. Sometimes I can sell a hot tub just by opening wide. People think they won't get out of here alive unless they buy something. Gets pretty boring, though. Just sitting here waiting for customers.
"It does?"
"I miss prowling the river bottom. Munching grass under water. Overturning the tourists in their little boats. I miss that most of all. You should hear the squawks."
"That's cool. I'd like to dunk my big sister in the park lake and listen to her squawk. Course, I would probably get drowned later."
"You interested in a waterbed? Half price to you, cause you're so small. Here, let me show you." Before I could answer, he flopped back onto the bed face up. The bed groaned and split down the middle. Water shot to the ceiling and most of it came down on me. I was soaked.
Suddenly, I was standing in the doorway of a shop stocked with leather goods. Rows and rows of jackets, also belts and western jewelry. This time the salesman was a steer with sharp horns that stuck way out. A longhorn, I think. He was being very careful. He stepped around a rack of bomber jackets and nearly hit a mirror. He was also kind of funny -- if you didn't mind his puns.
"Pardon me for horning in, but may I steer you to a jacket, young fellow? Or persuede you to try on a vest?"
"I like your leather jacket. How much is it?" I asked. Clever me.
"Don't even think about it. It's the only one I own and it's not for sale."
"What about those horns?"
"These are not for sale, either, but you can rent them, if you like. Use them as a jungle jim. Swing on them. Chin yourself. Naturally, I'll have to come along."
"What do you use them for, anyway?"
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