Mr. Oddley's Toy Shop

by S.J. Armato

  Lou’s opponent, let’s call him Win, served. A rocket shot that appeared un-returnable. But it was returned. Smashed back with so much force it looked like it had been fired from a gun. It whizzed by Win before he could raise his racquet. The stadium crowd leaped to their feet and cheered maniacally. Lou continued his assault and easily won the first two sets... but then something happened. As Lou attempted to serve, his racquet spun weirdly in the air and whacked him in the head. The crowd gasped as one, then fell silent. Lou regained his composure and tried again. The same thing happened. His racquet was on route to connect with the ball when it changed course and, WHAM, smacked him hard in the head. He stumbled and fell. A murmur filtered through the arena. What the heck was going on?

  Lou was helped to his feet by the chair umpire and someone from the stadium’s medical team. After a few moments it was determined he was OK. The match would continue.

  Lou finally managed to hit the ball... right into the net. And again... right into the net. Again and again and again. Not only that, but every shot served by Win zipped by the poor, pathetic, and now sobbing, Lou. The stadium was transfixed. It was like watching a train wreck happen before your very eyes, and somehow you just had to keep watching, you couldn’t look away. Soon, it was two sets apiece with only the fifth and deciding set to play. But then Lou’s game began to improve. He was bouncing back. He once again was hitting like a pro and feeling in control. He could do no wrong. He had Win on the ropes...

  And that’s when it happened. His serve sent the ball sailing over the court and into the nose bleed section for a home run. Then, racquet firmly in hand, he started beating himself about the head. Not just one strike as before, but in a relentless barrage of blows. Lou ran, but well, you can’t run away from yourself. The racquet kept battering him and he was powerless to let go of it. The best he could do was to shield his head with his other hand. Smack, smack, smack came the shots. Run, run, run chanted the now fired up crowd. Help, help, help yelped a frantic and frightened Lou, as he desperately attempted to escape this terrible attack by his own hand.

  Finally, security wrestled him to the ground and managed to pry the weapon from him. Then the miserable, bruised, and baffled Lou was helped off the court as his “fans” roared with laughter. They had come to see a tennis match, but what they got instead was slapstick comedy at its best. A few were disappointed, a few were pleased, but most were ecstatic.

  The sports desk reporters were practically bouncing out of their seats with joy. Drama had been introduced into the day’s events. Lou had achieved notoriety, perhaps not the way he had hoped or intended, but he was the news story of the week. By day’s end, everyone knew the name of Lou Zare. His video went viral.

  By the way, the next day his racquet mysteriously disappeared. An unreliable account from a little boy was that some guy with orange hair and big shoes took it. Stupid kid.

  ***

  Merless turned the TV set off. The room was deathly quiet. If a pin you dropped had dropped a pin of its own, you would have heard it. That’s how quiet it was, for several moments anyway. Then, the room exploded in a barrage of yelling and cursing of epic proportions. If prizes were awarded for hysterical, maniacal behavior, Hugh Merless would have taken home first prize.

  Rob sunk low into his seat, trying his best to be a chameleon and blend in with the chair fabric to become invisible. His mentor was mental. No doubt about it. Maybe he could just slink away? He slowly oozed out of his chair and started toward the door.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” boomed Merless. “Sit down!” Rob almost peed himself with fright, but he quickly sat back down. Admit it, you would have too!

  Merless paced. OK, obviously Oddley had been right. His crystals were damaged and too unpredictable to use. Lou Zare’s performance demonstrated beyond a doubt that they did not work reliably. He needed to get hold of Oddley’s untainted ones, and the translation book as well to unlock the secrets of the tablets. He knew he really should destroy the bad crystals, but he felt he couldn’t, as if they were a part of him. Which in essence they were, so...

  Merless hand picked a dozen of his best people to undergo the same Hammer-Hand metamorphosis he himself had undergone, with one important exception... each of these eager-to-please company employees would only be allowed to have one hand undergo the transformation. He needed to insure he would remain the most powerful among them. Paranoid, you say? Well, maybe a little.

  But what if his imperfect crystals turned the minds of his people to chicken soup? Well, he liked chicken soup, and he for one was willing to take that risk. Heck, he had lots of workers.

  So one by one, Merless led his people into the lab where he slammed their fist on to bits of the jagged crystals. And one by one he led them back out, each holding a bleeding hand that was already beginning to grow larger, rocklike, and was taking on a purplish hue. The transformation was happening quicker now. In reality, what was happening was that the crystals were dying and were going out like a super nova, trying to establish a neural link before they faded out. And no one seemed to notice that the crystals had grown darker and duller in appearance.

  Then he turned toward Rob and motioned for him to follow. A shaking and horrified Rob obediently walked after him into the lab. Merless took Rob’s hand and looked into the boy’s rabbit-panicked eyes, and the tiny bit of conscience that still inhabited his mind sprang to the foreground. His eyes cleared and he croaked: “Rob please, go, leave while you can.”

  Rob didn’t need to hear any more. He sprinted out the door like a track star just as the glaze of madness resumed its reign over Merless.

  “Now, why did I do that?” he mused. “Well, no matter. He doesn’t matter. Only I matter. And I have plenty of other soldiers in my very own little army.”

  “Tonight we attack... tonight we attack Mr. Oddley’s Toy Shop.”

  Chapter 28

  It was a solemn ceremony of sorts, and it was Mr. Oddley’s idea. It represented the end of their innocent acceptance of the magical toys, and an acknowledgement of their danger. So, in essence, it spelled the end of Just Like Magic. He, Liza, Maggie, Molly, and Tim stood sadly around a metal trash can and watched the translation book go up in flames.

  Then Mr. Oddley gave a nod, and Maggie and Tim moved a ladder in place for Molly to climb. She unfastened the sign over the front door and lowered it to the ground. It was official; the toy shop was closed.

  The following days would bring scores of shoppers to the shop, only to have them leave in bewilderment, wondering why this incredibly popular toy store had closed its doors. There would be a short segment on the nightly news, and then, poof, the place would be yesterday’s new and forgotten.

  But for now, there was still the matter of disposing of the crystals. Maggie looked relieved after they’d finished loading the last of the boxes into the van. Twelve in all, each holding hundreds of small gelatin capsules, with each capsule containing a tiny bit of Incredimite crystal—enough to make thousands of magical toys. But there would be no more of these special toys. These crystals were on their way to Store-Urge Storage, where they’d remain until Mr. Oddley could think of the best way to dispose of them. At least, that was the plan. The kids stood on the sidewalk and watched as Mr. Oddley, and Liza, who was riding shotgun, pulled away from the curb when, WHAM, they were side-swiped, from out of the blue, by a little round blue car. The doors flew open and out popped a dozen clowns and one masked man in a dark suit, who, judging by his super-sized hands, could only be Hugh Merless.

  The clowns flanked the van while Merless pulled open the driver’s side door, grabbed Mr. Oddley roughly by the arm, and flung him into the street. Then he hopped into the driver’s seat and drove off, with the crystals and with Liza still inside the van.

  The stunned kids ran to Mr. Oddley’s side as the clowns piled back into their car; all except for one who, with a grand sweeping gesture, handed Maggie a large red balloon, and handed Molly a long sharp pin. Then with
a smile and a frown he was gone, as he injected himself like cream pie filling into his vehicle and drove off. It was, needless to say, weird.

  “What j-just happened?” asked an incredulous Tim.

  “You saw it, didn’t you?” snapped Molly. “The crystals were stolen and Liza has been re-kidnapped. This is getting old!”

  Maggie was kneeling beside Mr. Oddley, holding her red balloon. “Are you OK?” she asked.

  “I think so,” he answered. “But we’d better go inside.” And with that the kids helped Mr. Oddley into the shop.

  “Why don’t they leave us alone?” flashed Molly in anger.

  “Because they want something, and I think the two of you are holding the answer in your hands. Molly, please pop Maggie’s balloon with your pin.”

  Molly hated balloons and especially popping ones. They creeped her out, almost as much as suddenly seeing a spider crawling on her arm, but she did as Mr. Oddley asked. POP, went the balloon, and out bounced a small ping pong ball. On it was written...

  “He still wants the translation book to decipher the tablets,” muttered a frightened Mr. Oddley. “But I haven’t got it. I destroyed it!”

  “Can’t you piece together a new one from your notes?” asked Maggie.

  “Maybe parts, but it wouldn’t be complete. He would know pretty soon that it wouldn’t do the job.”

  “Yes,” said Maggie, “But maybe it would fool them just long enough for us to...” She paused a moment. “Listen, Mr. Oddley, I have an idea.”

  Everyone was, I believe the expression is, all ears.

  ***

  It was a nice little prison, as prisons go. Big screen TV, comfortable couch, magazines, and plenty of food and drink. But also bars on the windows, locked doors, and no phone, or computer, or other means of contacting anyone. A nice prison, yes, but still a prison.

  Liza sat drinking a Diet Coke and staring at the TV. It was on but she wasn’t watching. She was otherwise preoccupied by her forced guest status. Suddenly, she was jolted by a soft knock at the door. A pause, then another knock. Such polite kidnappers. “Come in,” she said mechanically. A heartbeat and a lock click later, a man wearing a chef’s hat peered around a half opened door. “Mr. Merless requests the pleasure of your company for dinner,” he said.

  What does he want from me? she thought, but immediately said, “Oh, the pleasure will be all mine, I’m sure.”

  She was led through a maze of corridors, down an elevator, and into a large room that hosted an obscenely long table which laid claim to a king’s banquet of food. Roast everything, and vegetable dishes galore, along with sumptuous salads and breads all fought for space and attention. It was enough food to feed a small town, and yet there were only two chairs, set at opposite ends of the table. Possibly in two separate time zones.

  Merless had not arrived yet, so Liza sat munching on a breadstick and waited. Shortly, he entered the room along with two waiters, snapped at them to clear away the leftover lunch, and apologized to Liza for the mess. She was stunned. Leftovers? Mess? It was unbelievable. The waste! They sat in silence as the dishes were cleared away.

  Mr. Merless spoke in French, asking for the salad to be served. A tray with two small covered dishes was brought in –– one dish was placed before each of them. So far, so good, she thought. But when the plates were uncovered, Liza almost passed out in disgust. A large bloated insect was nestled on top of each of their plates of mixed greens like some grotesque garnish. “Come now, eat up,” smiled Merless. “Don’t let your food get away.” He is mad, she realized, as she watched him spear his food and gobble it down. She pushed her plate aside.

  “This is a theme meal,” he said happily. “Wait until you see dessert. Hmm, hmm, hmm.”

  “Now, down to business, Miss Shiftly. I sincerely hope you will use all of your, ah, influence to persuade Mr. Odd––, I mean Oscar, to help me in my little plan. You see, I need his talents. So, can I count on your cooperation?”

  Liza was furious but maintained her cool. She was tough, and had been for years. Nobody played her for a fool. She pulled her plate back toward her and said, “Mr. Merless, I guarantee you will get everything you have coming to you.” And with that, she sprinkled a little salt and pepper on her appetizer, which was trying desperately to hide under a sprig of parsley, speared it, and chewed it slowly. Her heart was ice and her eyes were fire. Merless was more than a little impressed and maybe just a wee bit frightened.

  ***

  “Hockey?” asked everyone.

  “Yes, hockey... and skateboards,” affirmed Maggie. Look, Mr. Oddley, you bring your fake translation book to Universi-Toy, find Liza and the crystals, and then the rest of us make our move. We’ll go in with hockey equipment infused with Incredimite: sticks, skates, masks, pucks, and padding, along with a couple of skateboards. We’ll be unstoppable! We’ll...”

  “Uh, Maggie” interrupted Tim. “Aren’t you forgetting s-something? We d-don’t have the crystals. Merless does.”

  “Right, but each of us has a gazillian toys that have crystals in them. We just pull them out and...”

  “It’s not quite that simple,” corrected Mr. Oddley. “But then again, with a little finagling and lots of luck, it just might work. Maggie, you’re a genius!” he exclaimed. And with that Maggie turned a shade of red that would have made a tomato jealous.

  “But there’s just you, me, and Tim. That’s only three,” said Molly. “Is that enough to take on Merless’ people?”

  “No,” conceded Maggie. “But let me make a couple of phone calls and... we’ll see. Meanwhile, Mr. Oddley, can you and Tim go out and buy the equipment we need?” The two left immediately.

  Maggie made her calls and in no-time-flat the place was swarming with kids (Yes, it’s a well documented fact that kids travel in swarms). Now there were six more kids to help rescue Liza: Adam, Brett, Chris, Deanna, and Ellie... the ABC kids... plus Daphne. And each had brought with them a boat-load of old toys. The workshop table was piled high.

  Mr. Oddley and Tim returned, and after a few minutes of oohing and aahing at the sports gear, the kids started to separate their toys into usable piles, and Daphne separated herself from the rest of the group. She moved off to a corner of the room and made a phone call, cupping her hand over the speaker, stealing frequent glances back at the group.

  “What’s she up to?” whispered Molly to Tim.

  “Dunno,” he answered. “Do you think we can trust her? Who do you think she was t-talking to? Merless?”

  “I sure hope not, but the way she’s acting is making me nervous.” By this time a general murmur of disapproval had started to permeate the room. All eyes were on Daphne.

  Finally, several anxious minutes later, Maggie could no longer stand the tension and confronted her. “What’s going on, Daphne? You’re acting weird.”

  Daphne blinked several times. “Yes, I know I am,” she admitted.

  “So?” demanded Maggie. “What...” But just then there was a knock at the door. Everyone wondered, since the shop was officially closed, who it could be?

  They all watched as Molly slowly swung the door open, and found herself standing face to face with Rob. Yes, our old friend Rob-noxious!

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “Daphne called me,” he answered. “She told me about Liza and... I want to help.”

  The room immediately exploded in a flurry of words that expressed their utter disbelief and bitterness. Rob turned sadly away, ready to leave, when Mr. Oddley spoke up. “Son, look me in the eye and tell it straight, why are you here?”

  Rob stammered, stole a glance at the slowly simmering crowd, and faced Mr. Oddley. “Merless is nuts, really nuts, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to Liza. She tried to help me. Now it’s my turn.”

  Mr. Oddley extended his hand. “OK Rob, I’ll take you at your word, welcome to our little rescue squad. But you’ll have to earn our trust. You understand?” Rob shook his hand and nodded.
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br />   “Now everyone,” said Mr. Oddley, “Let’s get started. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

  As everyone shuffled about, taking their places, little Ellie walked over to Rob, looked up, and with as serious a tone as her squeaky voice could muster said, “Just thought you should know. I still don’t trust you, and I’m keeping an eye on you.”

  Adam walked over to Rob and said, “Ah, don’t take it personal. She said the same thing to me this morning at breakfast.”

  Rob smiled. Ellie kicked him.

  Everyone laughed, even Rob, and that broke the tension in the room.

  ***

  It was difficult separating the crystals from the old toys. They were basically fused into place, so what they had to do was to chemically remove as much as possible and combine two or more bits to attach to the sports equipment. But the process worked and soon everyone was outfitted as hockey players and snowboarders. They stood around admiring themselves, until an unexpected problem came to Mr. Oddley’s mind. They had no transportation in which to get to Universi-Toy. Merless had the van!

  So... they called for a taxi, three taxis, actually. The drivers were a bit surprised to see their riders, and were even more surprised when they were told their destination was the outskirts of town. But hey, a fare is a fare.

  The conversations in the cars were brief and somewhat similar. They basically were:

  “So, are you guys part of a school team?”

  “No, we’re in training for Halloween... trick or treat!”

  After that, just an uncomfortable silence.

  But thankfully, it was a short ride, and soon enough they were dropped off outside the factory gate. Mr. Oddley saw his van parked off to the side. Good, he thought. We’ll need it for our getaway.

  “OK,” said Mr. Oddley. “As we decided, I’ll go in first, give the book to Merless, find Liza, find the crystals, and... and... why does this sound so impossibly hard now? It sounded perfectly reasonable back at the shop. Anyway, that’s where the rest of you come in. And I do mean literally come in, to help Liza and me escape. Got it?”