Part 10 (2/2)
”Today is a magic day,” said JJ, wiping his wet chin with his T-s.h.i.+rt. ”In five minutes we'll be experiencing something that won't happen again in our lifetime.”
To anyone else, the stretch of silence that followed might have been seen as disturbing indifference. Not to JJ. ”Yup, a magic moment is about to occur ...”
”Really?” said Samira, like an actress suddenly remembering her lines. ”What won't happen in our lifetime?”
”At two minutes past eight, the clock will read in perfect symmetry. It will say 20:02, 20/02, 2002. It's only happened twice before in history and will only happen one other time, in 2112. It's a thing of mathematical beauty-and a palindrome! And that's why we're meeting tonight, that's why we're inaugurating our club tonight, at this time! It's a palindromic moment!”
They all clinked cups again with the exception of Norval, who was blankly watching an interview with a British ski-jumper. His attention was diverted to three pump-like contraptions standing beside the television. He picked up one of them. ”Uh, JJ?”
”Yes? You'd like to know what those are for?”
”I would, actually. But first I'd like to point out that today is the second of February.”
”That's correct.”
”Your 'palindromic moment' will not occur until the twentieth.”
With a worried look, JJ began writing in the air with his pointer finger. ”Oh my G.o.d! You're right. I'm a blithering idiot!”
”Maleesh,” Samira said comfortingly, her hand on his shoulder. ”I got confused too. Why don't we just make tonight a kind of ... dry run, test flight. We'll hold the official inauguration on the twentieth.”
”Yes!” said JJ. ”What a great-”
”You were going to tell me what these are,” said Norval, still clutching one of the pumps.
”Well, the one you got in your hand is an inside-out sherlock, that one there's a purple flamer, and the other's a standup double mushroom side lock.”
Norval nodded. ”p.e.n.i.s enlargers?”
”Bongs. Hand-blown soft-gla.s.s pipes. Using the X-Tractor, the ultimate cold water extraction system.”
Norval examined them further. ”So I presume you have something interesting to fill them with? Is that what's in those boxes over there?” He nodded towards a recess in the room, a kind of alcove.
”Not exactly. Come, everyone, I'll show you.”
The three followed JJ to his special storeroom, the size of a walk-in closet, which contained an a.s.sortment of boxes stacked raggedly to the ceiling: Payless shoe boxes, Roi-Tan cigar boxes, Lucky Charms cereal boxes, perhaps fifty in all, most of them spray-painted and covered with magic marker hieroglyphs.
”Are you a shoe salesman?” Samira asked.
JJ laughed, a high-pitched yodel. ”These boxes aren't filled with shoes. Or cereal or cigars, for that matter. They're special kits. Filled with ... well, special things. This one's called Top Dog. Canine steroids-you know, for frisbee champions.h.i.+ps? This one's for nervous dogs: Doggie Paxil and K-9 Quaaludes. This one's an appet.i.te suppressant for dogs, this one contains a dog whistle and transponder so humans can hear it, this one contains funeral eye caps and hypno-coins, this one post-divorce pills, this one placebo v.i.a.g.r.a ...”
Samira laughed, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. ”What's in this one, with the skull and crossbones?”
”Anthrax. Re-engineered. The bacterium's been disabled to make it harmless, except to certain cancer cells. And this one contains black h.e.l.lebore, or Christmas rose, also a poison.”
”But ...why do you have poisons?”
”I got a deal off the Internet for the whole lot. E-bay. Roaming the Net is my hobby. I'm an internaut.”
”And that one?” Samira pointed higher up, to a pea-green box with saffron stars.
”Which one? Oh, that's The Wedge. You got your wedge, your foam, your fill bottle, gloves, temp strip, hose clamp, swab.”
”But what is it?”
JJ took the box down, opened it up. ”Well ... I'm a bit embarra.s.sed to say in female company.”
”Don't be.”
”You place the wedge between your b.u.t.t cheeks. I can demonstrate if you like.”
Samira paused, finding the image in her head rather alarming. ”Not ... necessary. But what's it for?”
”It's a pa.s.s-the-p.i.s.s-test,” said Norval, by the entrance, still turning one of the bongs over in his hands.
”Exactly,” said JJ. ”It allows you to pa.s.s someone else's water-clean and at the correct temperature. Here's another one, the Whizzinator 3000, which is synthetic. Comes with a very realistic prosthetic virile member, in lifelike skin tones-black, brown, Latino, tan, white. Uses only the best synthetic urine on the market. No batteries, no wires, no metal to set off alarms. It comes with organic heat pads to maintain body temperature.”
Samira nodded. ”You sell them to athletes, I imagine?”
”Yeah, in fact a Canadian athlete who's now in Salt Lake City bought three. A biathlete by the name of ... but wait, I shouldn't be telling you any of this! It's also for anyone who might have trouble pa.s.sing an employer's test.”
”Right.” Samira lifted the lid of an electric-blue box at eye-level. ”And this one is ...?”
”A scrotal infusion kit.”
”I'm not sure I want to know more.”
”You got your wax, your catheter, saline solution, intravenous bag. Everything you need. Well, not you you.”
”Need for what?”
”Scrotal inflation. You dip your s.c.r.o.t.u.m in hot wax several times to relax it, inject a catheter into both sides of the t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es and fill them with a dripping saline solution from an intravenous bag. You can go up to two litres if you want. That'll give you three days of monster b.a.l.l.s-expanding anywhere from fifteen to twenty-two inches in circ.u.mference-before the solution is absorbed into the system and things get back to normal. It's perfectly safe.”
”But ... why why?”
”Some gentlemen like the warm heavy feeling when they're all puffed up. And deflation is good too, because there's a constant tugging on the s.c.r.o.t.u.m. So they say-I've never tried it. Plus it looks hot, it looks awesome.”
”What's this sack of powder for?” asked Norval, from a kneeling position, his nose stuck in the bag as if he were about to snort it.
”Just add water and stir. Got that from a lab in Delaware. It's listed on my website. Very popular among university students.”
”You smoke it or snort it?”
”Neither. It's fake excrement. You can smear it anywhere. It's very lifelike. But completely harmless, of course.”
”I know I'm repeating myself,” said Samira, laughing, ”but ...”
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