Black Marble

Just another tedious humdrum day, or so I thought. I was about to make the biggest mistake of my young life. Is there a more boring job than working in an electrical sales department?  I do not think so. Endless chatting on the phones and pretending to like the customer, who insists that you have supplied him with the wrong cable. Stuck behind the bloody computer nine till five, and worst of all, there was Mrs Robertson.  Snobby Robby, as she was commonly known. She owned the firm and didn’t we know it. I loathed her, with her boring spectacles always perched on the end of her pointed nose, and her blue rinse perm.

    I was fantasising about my fifteenth method of killing Snobby Robby, when a dog ran out in front of me, causing me to brake violently. The loud thud confirmed my worst fears. I had hit the mut. I sat shaking for a few moments, before I regained my composure.

    The dog, a beagle, lay motionless in a ditch on the side of the road. I heard the rustle from the bushes and was confronted by two huge men. It did not need a second glance to confirm that they were not in the Einstein league. They both wore a single earring and were heavily tattooed. One of them was cock-eyed, and the other had teeth like a deformed rabbit. They looked me up and down inquisitively, before approaching me.  

    I sat motionless when they confronted me. “You’ve killed Bruno,” came the cry from cockeye.

    “You’d better come with us,” said buckteeth.

    I was chaperoned into the woods, fearing the worst. A bullet in the head or worse. I had seen Deliverance and wished that I had changed my boxer shorts. We walked for five minutes, until we came to a clearing. A horse drawn caravan with a crow perched on the roof was to be our destination.

    I was invited inside, if that is the word, and was now standing opposite an old woman. She was a fearsome looking creature, with grey hair, no teeth and a wrinkled face that had seen better days. A cheroot was hanging from her white lips as she looked up at me. I had never seen so much jewellery on one person. She was like a walking Ratners.

    Buckteeth opened up. “He killed Bruno, ma.”

    “Killed him dead, he did,” said cockeye.

    “Well, what are we gonna do with you, Mr Stanton?” asked the old hag.

    “How’d you know my name?”

    “Ma knows everything, don’t ye ma?” drawled buckteeth.

    The old woman continued. “Now, let me see. A punishment to fit the crime will be appropriate, I believe.”

    I pleaded my case. “The bloody dog ran out in front of me. It was an accident.”

    She was livid. “Cars are killers! You think you own the roads. You townies need to be taught a lesson.”

    “The black marble, ma!” yelled buckteeth, excitedly.

    “Yeah, the black marble,” echoed his brother.

    “Mr Stanton, accept this,” she insisted.

    I held out my hand cautiously and rolled the glass ball around in my hand.

    The old gypsy pointed at me, her craggy finger displaying a yellow fingernail that must have been three inches long. “Heed my words, young man; carry the black marble with you for one week. If you attempt to discard it, then my curse will be with you forever.”

    “Curse?”

    “After one week, you’ll be free from the black marble, but once more I say; don’t let it out of your sight. Carry it with you always.”

    I could live with that; besides, what a load of bollocks. Gypsies and curses. I believed I had gotten off lightly. Dumb and dumber escorted me back to my car and I drove speedily to work. I was late and had to face the wrath of Snobby Robby.

 

    All heads were down when I entered my office, and a few wry smirks adorned the features of my colleagues. They knew what was to come. The dreaded inquisition. There she was, standing with her hands on her hips, waiting for me at my desk, like a schoolteacher about to scold a pupil.

    “Well, Paul, what excuse do you have this time?”

    “Mrs Robertson, I ran over a dog and had to settle things with the owners.”

    “A likely story. This’ll be deducted from your wages, I hope you know… Now, empty the waste bins and ashtrays. I’ve some important customers coming this morning.”

   “Yes, Mrs Robertson.”

   
Mary Slaney, the office flirt, leant over my desk. If her intended victim was married, then all the better. She had been through almost the entire staff at Robertson’s Electricals. I was one of her more difficult subjects. Not that the thought of romping with the man-eating redhead had not entertained one of my rare fantasies, as I made love to my timid, boring wife, Judy.

   Judy must be the most naive person on the planet. The missionary was the one and only position that she would entertain. Her middle name was frigid.

    “Paul, why don’t you take me for a drink tonight?”

    “Because, Mary, I’m a married man.”

    She began to sniff, wrinkling her cute button nose as she moved closer. “Shit, Paul, your breath smells of...well…it smells like a dog’s breath.”

    “Thank you very much, Mary. That completes my shitty morning.”

    I must admit, my mouth did feel like it needed freshening up. I ran my hand through my stubble and was surprised by how quickly it had grown. I had shaven only this morning.

 

    
Later that morning, I took rather a large order and decided to take it into Snobby Robby. Maybe after she saw it, she would overlook my unpunctuality this morning. I knocked on her door and suddenly felt the urge to visit the toilet.

    “Enter!” was the order.

    I entered her office and she gave me daggers, staring at me as if I had treaded something in off the streets. It did not help that she was entertaining the important customers that she had spoken of.
    I placed the sheet on her desk and my eyes were attracted to her treasured rubber plant in the corner. How she loved that darn plant. I watered and fed it almost every day. What happened next will go down in folklore at Robertson’s Electrics.

    I walked over to her plant, and in front of the prying eyes of the customers, I pulled down my trousers and boxer shorts. I held my todger and proceeded to urinate on the plant, cocking one of my legs to the side.

    The gasps and groans echoed throughout the room, as I shook my old man, allowing the remaining droplets to water the plant.

    Snobby Robby fainted and was being tended to by the shocked customers. I pulled up my trousers and went back to work. Needless to say, I received my marching orders shortly afterwards.

    Judy was doing her housework when I arrived home. “You’re early, dear,” she stated, in that high-pitched Marilyn Munroe voice of hers. Even her hair was styled on the film star.

    “I was fired, dear,” I mumbled under my breath.

    “I didn’t quite catch that.”

    “I was fired…sacked…employment terminated…on the dole… Do you want me to spell it out?”

    “You mean, they finished you?” she shrieked.

    “Yes, they finished me.”

    “But Robertson’s was your life. Why would they fire you?”

    “Because, I pissed on Snobby Robby’s plant.”

    “You did what?”

    “Forget it, Judy. There’s plenty more jobs out there.”

 

    I approached her from behind, as she dusted the television.  

    “What’d you think you’re doing, Paul?”

    “We’ve a free afternoon, Judy. Let’s go upstairs.”

    She giggled when I nibbled her ears. I knew that was her weakness.

    “But honey, it’s only Thursday,” she moaned.

    “Am I on some sort of rationing here? Monday, Tuesday, Thursday; who cares what day it is?”

    I led her upstairs. She was reluctant, but the ear nibbling did the trick.

    “Paul, you really need a shave.”

    “Forget the shave, lover,” I said, as I started to undress her.

   She lay on the bed on her back, waiting to receive me. I kissed her and she pushed away my head.
    “What’ve you been eating, Paul?”

    “Forget that,” I said, and I turned her onto her stomach.

    “And what do you think you’re doing?”

    “Let’s do it doggy style, darling; just for a change.”

    She sat up and pushed me away. “Whatever’s come over you?” she asked, in that irritating voice of hers. “That’s disgusting and perverted.”

    “It’ll make a nice change, love. Everybody does it.”

    “Well, I don‘t. You aren’t putting that thing anywhere near my backside.”

    “I suppose a blow job’s out of the question then?”

    She slapped me. “Where ever did you hear such filth?”

    “Well, how about rubbing my belly then?” I said, my tongue hanging out.

    “You sicko,” she screamed. “You ought to see a psychiatrist.”

    With that, she exited the bedroom.

 

    Thursday night was greyhound night. One of my only pleasures in life was gambling. I looked in the mirror and was surprised to see how hairy I was. Perhaps my hormones had gone haywire, but at the age of twenty-seven, I rapidly dismissed that theory. I pondered time and time again over my actions in Snobby Robby’s office, but could not explain it. It seemed natural at the time. Perhaps Judy was right; maybe I did need to see a shrink. I had apologised to her for my erratic behaviour in the bedroom, and she forgave me, putting it down to the stress of losing my job.

     I finished shaving and dressed for the evening. As I hung my trousers up, an object fell to the floor. It was the black marble. I had completely forgotten about it. I fingered it and studied the glass ball. I laughed when I recalled the proposed curse the old gypsy had placed on me. I placed the marble on the dressing table and prepared for my night at the greyhound track.

    Jacko and Danny were seated at their usual table when I joined them, sipping their flat, warm beer from the plastic beakers.

    “Yo, Paul, how’s it going?” asked Jacko.

    “Don’t ask. It surely cannot get any worse… I killed a dog, got sacked, and had a barney with our lass.”

    Danny grinned. “Well, I’ll be sure to avoid your tips tonight.

    Four girls, who were much the worse for drink were seated at the next table, eyeing the available talent up. The blonde with the short leather skirt sat behind me and brushed my back. She looked around curiously and smiled at me. The contact was now much firmer, and I felt her foot rubbing against my leg. I turned to face her and began to sniff at her. Her friends giggled at the spectacle when I licked her face.

    “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

    “Are you on heat?” I asked.

    The slap stung my cold face, much to the amusement of my mates.

    “You bitch!” I yelled.

    “What did you call me?”

    She slapped me again, only this time on the other side of my face, so that I had matching red cheeks. She left the bar, her friends in tow.

 

    We selected our positions at the trackside and awaited the first race. It was a pleasant evening, the orange sky promising another fine day tomorrow. The white-coated stewards were placing the greyhounds into their appropriate traps. The floodlights were dowsed and the sound of the mechanical hare could be heard.

    “The hares running,” came the cry from the speakers.

    “What’ve you backed here, Paul?” asked Danny.

    I ignored him, for my attention was elsewhere. I vaulted over the barrier when the hare passed and gave chase. The six dogs veered wide and plummeted me to the ground. I regained my balance and sprinted after them, watching as they disappeared into the distance.

   The stewards by now were giving chase, and a couple of them were knocked to the ground after the greyhounds had completed a circuit of the track. It was like a scene from the Keystone Cops, and the audience loved it’ well most of them that is. The hare stopped and I raced the muzzled greyhounds to claim my prize. I picked the hare up with my teeth and shook my head violently, growling. The other dogs backed off, unsure what to make of me.

    Naturally, I was ousted from the ground by a constable, who took my details. I flagged down a taxi and headed home.

    I stroked my face and was shocked by the rapidity of my growing hair. I bypassed Judy, who was fixated with Jerry Springer, and made for the bathroom.

    The face that stared back at me was unfamiliar. I was beginning to resemble the wolf man. My teeth were now beginning to ache, and I brushed them rapidly to freshen my rancid breath. I clenched my teeth and looked in the mirror. To my horror, I could see that they were tapering to a point. I was turning into a dog!

    My thoughts ventured to the old gypsy and the black marble. Surely, the events of the day could not be connected. She had told me that it was only for a week, as long as I kept the marble. I entered the bedroom in search of the black marble.

    “The marble. Where the fuck’s the marble?” I yelled. “Ow, ow, ow!”

    Judy took the stairs three at a time. “What was that?”

   “The marble…where’s the marble?” I quizzed.

    “Oh, that. I was about to throw it away, but gave it to a small boy who was passing… Your face; what’s happened to your face?”
    “What boy?”
    “I’ve never seen him before?”  
    I started to whimper and Judy comforted me. We fell onto the bed and she stroked my head. That night, we were intimate for the last time.

I had made up my mind. I had to find the gypsy woman and explain my predicament. Surely, she would understand that I was not to blame.

    Judy had implored me to see a doctor.

    “A doctor or a vet?” I had asked. Anyway, that would come later. I have shaved this morning, but the hair seems to just grow faster. I was also developing whiskers.

 

    I decided to cut across the golf course. Two burly youths were preparing to tee off and I waited out of courtesy. The youth, who was wearing the red baseball cap, addressed the ball and swung. The ball disappeared over the horizon and I bounded after it, down the lush, green fairway, and barking loudly. The youths, realising what my destination was, sprinted after me.

    “Come back here, you wacko.”

    I climbed into the bunker and squatted down on all fours, picking the golf ball up with my teeth.
    “Fucking psycho!” screamed one of the youths, as he kicked me, causing me to yelp. The other one joined in, lashing out with his feet. I growled and faced my attackers. They backed off and I lunged, sinking my teeth into the arm of one. They fled towards the clubhouse with me in hot pursuit. The tables were now turned.

    My attention was averted to a cat, a ginger moggie. I chased the cat, much to the relief of the youths, and the amusement of the members, who were lining the windows of the clubhouse.

 

Well, here I am, nine months later, locked up in a padded cell with my Beagle’s head, complete with studded collar. Several doctors examined me and were as baffled as each other. My account of what happened held no credence with them. It only verified my insanity.

    There was almost a happy ending, but not quite. Judy fell pregnant that night, nine months ago. I had received news that she was about to give birth at any time now.

    The warder brought my dinner. He placed my bowl in the corner and I thanked him, promising him the pick of the litter. Judy was about to have the biggest shock of her life.