Sticky Fingers: 12 Deliciously Twisted Short Stories (Sticky Fingers Collection) by JT Lawrence

Author:JT Lawrence [Lawrence, JT]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780620716727
Publisher: Fire Finch Press
Published: 2016-07-27T22:00:00+00:00

7

Grey Magic

When people ask me what I do, I usually lie. I used to tell the truth, when I was young and had an exoskeleton woven from life-spirit and arrogance, as most young people do. Before that threaded shell was gradually eroded by the hurt in the world: the violence, the bad luck. Now only middle-aged, liver-spotted skin remains, which is no adequate barrier to life’s bashing. Now I have to protect myself in other ways; age and wisdom bring another type of armour.

I used to tell the truth, but now the lies slide out of my mouth like spotted eels. Easy and familiar. When I get bored of the untruths, I make up more, to keep things interesting. A year ago, I would have told you, if I had bumped into you at a conference or a cocktail party, that I was a botanist. The trick to believable deception, as I’m sure you know, is to keep it as truthful as possible. I have trained in botany, so it is an obvious one, one that springs quickly to my just-licked lips. But I am also qualified—fib-wise—to be a doctor, an astronomer, a zoologist, an archaeologist, a chemical engineer. Sometimes I surprise myself: my subconscious becomes adventurous, wants to pursue less lofty careers. I become a marketing consultant, a sous-chef, a yoga instructor.

When I was starting out, I thought I had to tell people what I did—what I really did—in order to get work, but I have since found that when you do the work well, the work will come. The universe, after all, supports action. Now, I only accept referrals from close friends and previous clients (the ones that are still alive, anyway).

The reality is there is never any shortage of demand for the kind of work I do. Telling strangers about my vocation hardly ever translates into real jobs, anyway. I find time-wasters incredibly annoying. I picture them as velcro-legged parasites that cling to my aura until they have unloaded their whole Sorry Story, only to refuse my offer of professional help. It takes all the self-control I can muster to not place some kind of small, irritating hex on them, a monkey on their back, just to cause them the same amount of chagrin that they have caused me. That kind of tit-for-tat may seem childish to you, but it keeps the cosmos nicely balanced. “An eye for an eye” out of the old book was never meant to be vengeful or malicious; it was instead to keep The Balance. If The Balance is off, bad things can happen. Some people call it karma, others say that “the wheel turns.” It’s all true, no matter how you choose to dress it up, with gory stories of biblical eye-gouging savagery or with glittering, ice-cream-coloured animal gods. The wheel just keeps on turning.

Worse than the time-wasters are the impromptu sermons delivered to me in inopportune places, like on the train, or standing in line for my daily fix. It’s awkward.

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