274. A Christmas Bazaar

 274. A Christmas Bazaar

The minute we stepped into the gymnasium where Generoso and Dadivosa had installed their Christmas bazaar, Uncle Gen’s brothers, that is, my maternal and paternal uncles, those collectively known as the Beasts of Lamos, made signs to Gen so he would go straight to their table. He made signs right back, signalling that he would soon be with them and first took me to a kiosk where they sold tea and sandwiches and other refreshments.

“What shall it be?” he asked me.

“Tea with lemon and lots of ice, but I would rather not have it with the uncles. When they bunch up they become scary.”

“Yes,” agreed Uncle Gen. “Individually they are tolerable, but when in conjunction the effect can result apalling. Especially when south and north incline to clash.”

I smiled. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to disparage my uncles too much. It might not be prudent.

“So you go and stroll around buying stuff. Lucky you! I am going to have to sit with them for a while and practice at being a brute.”

Uncle Gen, with his mug of Christmas punch made with champagne and rum, the most expensive drink to be bought there, and a large tray loaded with assorted sandwiches, headed for his fraters’ table. 

“Are you going to eat all that?” one of the uncles asked him.

“Of course not. This is for grabs,” Gen answered.

“Why is that kid standing aside? Is he scared of us?”

“Nah! He’d rather be with friends his age.”

And to prove this, I moved away to a stand two of my sisters were in charge of. The stand Heather and Thistle were seeing to was sponsored by St. Lucy. She was not there herself because it was her day and she was probably in Sweden, but there was a large image of her bearing one of her two pairs of eyes on a dish as well as a martyr’s palm.

“What are you selling?” I asked my sisters, glancing around the stand. “Cookies shaped like eyes?”

“Glasses is what you need,” Thistle answered crossly. “Can’t you see there’s none of that here?”

“What I can’t see is whatever you are selling!” But I was quick to add, before Thistle could get crosser, “What I do see is that this stand is beautifully decorated. What a lovely stand you have here! I took it for an altar.”

I was being truthful. The stand was wondrously illuminated, all of it glimmering like a star-studded sky. It was blindingly beautiful.

“You bean-buying fool! That’s what we’re selling. Light. Prisms. Lamps. Glass ornaments for Christmas trees and windows and anything that can catch and reflect light. And candles.”

“I told you we should have put up a sign announcing that we are selling light,” Heather said timidly to our sister.

“Why? Bean-buying fools don't read.”

“This one does. Oh! I didn’t mean to say that! Excuse me, Arley. I didn’t mean to insult you. We know you are clever.”

“It's okay, so do I. Maybe if the candles weren’t all lit…,” I began to suggest.

“Bean-buyer, these are perpetual candles, never-ending, never consumed. Never spent. And now you spend some on this stuff, because we’re not doing too well.”

“Sure, I’ll buy up the place. All your wares. Uncle Gen has given me loads of money to splash here tonight.”

“Oh, cocky big spenders! Only arrogant dissipaters approach stands with blank checks.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood today, sister?” I asked Thistle. “I’m only here to buy whatever you want to sell me.”

“We´ll answer your question later,” intervened Heather, “because if we do that now, Thistle will overboil before us and someone might get scalded. Come, buy two dozen candles and a lamp with prisms. And also…well, I know this is a girl’s book, but that doesn’t matter to you, you read everything, so also buy a copy of Pollyanna signed by the author, Eleanor Porter. We have like a hundred.”

“How about if I take fifty off your hands? Would that be arrogant and condescending of me or not?”

“And what would you do with fifty copies of Pollyanna, may I ask? If I catch you roasting chestnuts, I’ll set you on fire!” Thistle threatened me.

“Well! You’re really having a bad day! I thought I might donate them to a school.”

“A school of what? A school for lawyers? Law school? You think little girls read this kind of stuff nowadays?”

“Oh. I see. You don’t like this book. At all.”

“It was her favorite book when she was little,” said Heather. “Now, don’t deny this, Thistle. You know it was!”

“Until I learned what the world is like. Where do you think the hundred copies came from? They were donated by a school that has modernized its library.”

“Okay, so I’ll find some other place to send the copies to. Look, if you can’t sell them to someone else, I’ll take fifty copies, like I said. I’ll give you three hundred and fifty pounds for whatever you haven’t been able to sell and come for whatever that is when you are about to close. I don’t care what you give me. I’ll take whatever that is.”

“There is no making this one understand,” Thistle said to Heather. “Look, Heathie. Get a load of the wad of five hundred pound bills he is waving at us. One can’t go to a flea market like that. We don’t have change.”

“So I’ll give you a five hundred pound bill and you can keep that. In exchange for your leftovers. If there are any, and even if not. Don’t make it tough for me. I’m trying to help. I’ll come fetch whatever when you’re ready to close.”

“Give me that bill, Arley,” said Thistle, snatching one from me, “and now go to the stand Michael’s nieces are in charge of. Yes, the sirens. If you want to be despoiled, that’s the place for it. Hey, now that I think of it, didn’t you have an affair with one of those birdies? I believe I remember something like that occurred.”

“A gentleman never tells,” I said.

“Nor need you. They told us all about it themselves. You and Alpin. No need to worry, they are delighted with you. By the way, is he still married?”

“I have no idea. What are the mermaids vending?”

“You can’t see that either? I would say it’s quite obvious. Much exposed.”

“Don’t be mean, Thistle. They are selling chants and shells. They have a very lovely stand too,” said Heather.

“Yours is prettier. I already told you, you’ve made it look very beautiful,” I assured my sisters. The truth was both stands were very pleasant to behold.

“Marina sells canned chants. Yes, cute little cans that you open pulling a tab and then you hear the sirens singing. And then you go berserk and jump out a window. Luckily, most buyers have wings.”

“Don’t say that,Thistle, it’s not like that.”

“I’ll bet that if you listen to a siren’s canned chant next to a swimming pool you drown.”

“No! The cans only contain lullabyes for babies and tranquilizing music for folks suffering episodes of insomnia,” explained Heather.

“The said Ibiza has kissed so many people tonight that I think she should have charged for the kisses. She would have made good dough.”

“They are doing quite well,” said Heather, “and if you are going to buy something from those girls, Arley, let it be melon shells. They can be used to bail water from boats.”

“Your canoes get flooded?” I asked with some surprise.

“No, but Quentin Treadfaster’s sailboat does, when exposed to large waves.”

“What!” I exclaimed. “So it´s true. Quentin is your boyfriend!”

“No. He has a crush on Thistle. But when Alpin says he likes me, Quentin pretends to be with me so I’ll be left in peace.”

“So why isn’t he here buying up your stand like I tried to?”

“Because he had to go to the Appalachian Mountains to fetch the Fiddlehead Five. The people who were supposed to fetch them couldn’t make it. That’s why Thistle is so upset. She counted on him to bring all his friends and family to buy our stuff.”

“The Fiddlehead who?”

“The quintet who will blast your ears livening up the market,” grumbled Thistle. “Come on. Arley, you’ve done all you can here. Get a move on. Go buy stuff before the musicians appear and make you want to leave. You know who has a stand here? You can’t see it well from here, but your peuliar ex girlfriend is selling recycled garbage.”

“Rosina is here? We parted friends.”

I couldn’t believe it. She never lets herself be seen, though everyone knows her hand has a finger in this or that business.

“No. But the Rubbishies are. Come, go buy something from them for old times’ sake. They have some pretty good coolers and portable fridges. But don’t you go leaving five hundred pound bills just anywhere. First go directly to the Pérez Bank. The mouse has piles of small change and he’ll be happy to give you some,” Thistle advised me.

“Ask him for hundred pound bills, because if he gives you nothing but coins you won’t be able to carry that,” said Heather, “and be considerate and don’t spend more than  a hundred pounds at any one stand. Diversify. Buy honey from our sister Melissa and gingerbread from Ibys and Valentine. Make sure you buy something from Cobweb. She’s spun lovely tablecloths and shawls herself, and even stunning negligees that really cling but aren’t at all sticky and nicer than silk ones from worms. Buy green mustard from Mustardseed, we´ll serve it when we have faux baked ham for Christmas. She also sells French cheeses and wines. Moth has secondhand designer clothes that haven’t any mothbites in them, and she has the Lady Falguniben with her, selling colourful outfits and jewelry from India. We can give away what doesn’t fit us. Peaseblossom is selling products her aussie and ozzie relatives have donated. Here you will probably have use for the five hundred pound bills, because Australian pink diamonds and emeralds from Oz are quite expensive. Look, the Pérez Bank stand is right next to the entrance door. And if you look again, you will see Grandpa AEternus has just arrived and is saying hi to the mouse himself.”

“Give him our regards and remind him that we hate him,” said Thistle. “Grandpa, that is. We have nothing against the tooth fairy mouse. Mr. Peterson has treated us right.”

“What has Grandpa done to you now?”

“Nothing new. It’s just that we still resent his having kicked us out of his club when we tried to give him a cake for his birthday.”

I did not think it was a good idea to get Grandpa AEternus to recall this incident. Years had gone by, anyway. But I went up to the Pérez Bank stand for some change and to welcome my grandfather. No matter how unfriendly most people find him to be, he has never kicked me out of anywhere. Of course, he has on occasion caused me trouble, like when he enmeshed me in his quarrel with Botolph, but as far as I am concerned that is over. I am not too rancorous.

“Hey, Grandpa! Happy be the eyes! You’ve stepped out of your space!” I greeted him.

“No. This gymnasium is mine. I own it. As if I could help being here! Your grandma would kill me if I didn’t come preside this farce my obstinately broke cousins insist on staging. Divina says it matters much to them and to their parasites. You see, Pérez? Hey? What one has to put up with? Have I heard right, my favorite grandson? Are you buying up the place with money that impertinent man who says he is twice your uncle has given you for this purpose? Well, take mine and do the same with it. I’ll give you twice whatever he has.”

“Grandpa, I already have more money on me than I can handle.”

“You are going to spare that individual the trouble of buying for himself and you refuse to do the same for your aged grandpa? And why is that? Is it that you now have only one grandpa? The carver of blasted wooden birds?”

“You know about the hybrid.”

“I know everything. Do you think anything escapes me? Well, you won’t escape me either. You are coming with me to Pérez the Mouse’s hole. Now. We need to talk.”

And before I could say a word, he shrank me  and stuck me in a mousehole there was in the wall behind the Pérez Bank stand.