Oliver Benjamin
the full flower of the east, boiled down, reduced and reborn might
help cast new light upon their predicament. “Chai-chai-chai!” she
joked as she passed around the cups, wiggling her mammoth hips.
“I think we should arrange a failed assassination attempt on a
public figure,” Colin suggested. “That’s the easy way into the history
books.”
“We could sacrifice a virgin,” suggested Bennie. There was an
uncomfortable pause until he added: “Not a human one.”
“Look, even if we could get a lot more business, do we really want
an army of phonies in here?” Leona complained, chewing the end of
a braid. “Why don’t we make Undergrounds into an exclusive club for
people like us.”
“Losers?” said Colin.
“The disenfranchised.”
“The problem is simply one of location,” Roy pointed out.
“Nobody comes here because nobody knows about us. You need a
map to find this place, despite the fact that we’re right next to one of
the busiest shopping areas in town.”
“So let’s move, then,” Colin said.
“I can’t, Colin. If I move it, I lose it. It’s a stipulation of the
inheritance. Anyway, this is like ancestral land. It’s my home.”
The others nodded. They didn’t want to move. To varying
degrees, it was their home as well.
“Anyway, this place is magic,” Bennie maintained, “It wouldn’t
be if it was in the middle of everything.”
“Then we have to bring the people to us,” Leona insisted. “What’s
the best way to do that?”
“Kidnapping!” Colin exclaimed.
Leona frowned. “I was thinking advertising.”
“I can’t afford that,” said Roy. “Advertising is like gambling. You
only make money if you have lots to play with.”
“Of course it is,” boomed a voice from the front of the shop.
“Advertising is the greatest of mortal deceits!”
Mr. Partment sauntered in, nasty, brutish and short. He looked
like he was going to slug somebody. He always looked like he was
going to slug somebody. Yet he was so painfully thin and elderly and
awkward that this was never a great concern.
“Advertising is a peacock’s game,” he insisted, “It’s not to show
everyone your value, but to create an illusion!” The old man slapped
at his thin chest, then slammed a cup of chai, scalding his mouth.
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