The Reincarnation

At 10:00 p.m., Andy Turkenbock flipped the sign on his store’s door. “CLOSED,” it read to the outside world. Andy was sick of staying open so late, but kept up with his late father’s tradition regardless. Andy noticed a car pulling in. Hesitating a moment, he turned the sign back around. Hell, he thought, maybe this ancient watch is fast.

In the parking lot, a man got out of the car. The man pulled the upturned collar of his coat against his cheeks, and approached the store. The shadows arcing across the man’s face made it look to Andy, just for a second, like a walking lizard was about to be his last customer of the day.

Figuring his old eyes had deceived him, Andy opened the door, letting him in. Andy’s nose, old or not, wrinkled at the fetor the man brought in with him. It conjured up images of virulent decay.

The man said one word, “Gun.”

Andy uncovered the guns on the wall, and the ones inside the glass counter. “What’ll it be?” he said, passing his liver-spotted hand above the merchandise like a game show host.

“I want a pistol. As small as possible.” His voice came from behind the collar of his coat, and sounded slightly muffled.

“Well, this’ll be the one you want then. It’s the latest and the greatest, as they say. Expensive, but worth it. Should I hold it for you?”

Andy’s customer plopped a wad of bills on the counter. They were held together with a dirty rubber band. It looked to Andy to be about a thousand dollars. “I’d appreciate it if we could get around some of the laws governing these things.”

Andy protested, despite the money. “Jesus, mister. They’ll take my store away if I do that. This store’s been in my family for three generations. Are you a Fed? Why are you all covered up like that?”

John parted the collar covering his face. He was waxen, beyond pallid. Andy could see through his skin, see his teeth and tongue right through his cheeks.

“The gun, please,” the man admonished, staring straight into Andy’s eyes. Andy could see the openings in the man’s skull behind his eyes – and behind his nose.

Andy didn’t argue. Pocketing the cash in his overalls, he handed the man the gun, fumbled for a box of ammunition, and slid it across the counter.

Although Andy thought that at his age he had seen everything, the human jack-o’-lantern that just left his store had to be the weirdest of them all. And although he had belittled her at first, Andy silently thanked his wife for buying him what she had called Grandaddy Diapers.

Outside, the man with the gun sped away.