The Switch
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Chapter One: Howard and Vince Take the Day Off
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It was summertime, and a lazy Thursday at the Nabootique. Outdoors it was just hot and muggy enough for passers-by to seek solace in the comfort of the air-conditioned shops, to browse and enjoy the respite from the sticky outside air and the gentle hum of insects. Luckily for Vince Noir, the only shopkeeper attending the Nabootique at the moment, most of the residents of Dalston were already aware that the particular shop he was minding didn't have air conditioning. Or they didn't know, but wouldn't have stopped by anyway.
Vince was lounging on a chair with a magazine as a tiny metal fan positioned by his head oscillated haltingly over his angular features, looking more like a beautiful porcelain mannequin than an employee. When the bell above the door jingled in proclamation, he didn't even look up from his issue of Dazed & Confused.
"Cheers, Naboo," he greeted as the petite shaman and his gorilla familiar shuffled into the shop. He closed his magazine and gave them a once over, raising his eyebrows approvingly. "Killer shades."
"Thanks," Bollo acknowledged.
"Where've you two been all morning?"
"We're still bushed from Kirk's party last night," Naboo announced in his signature deadpan behind a large pair of black sunglasses. "Some really messed up shit went down. I think I snorted a line of fish food off one of Tony Harrison's tentacles."
Bollo, sporting a matching pair of glasses, shook his head mournfully. "Never seen the Head Shaman cry before," he grunted, "Like staring into a black, empty abyss… that was also crying."
Vince grinned and nodded his appreciation. "Nice."
"Hey, have either of you seen Howard today? I'm really bored," he called up to Naboo as the pair began to ascend the staircase.
"I think he's at the community garden a few blocks down," the shaman noted, stooping to peer over the railing at Vince.
"Community garden?" Vince all but scoffed, incredulous. "Did he get some sort of court order?"
Naboo just shrugged, as if to say, 'You know Howard.'
Vince groaned in disappointment, getting up to his feet. "I'm gonna go pop down there for a bit, then."
"Wait just a minute," Naboo declared. "You've got to stay and mind the shop."
"Naboo, no one wants to come in here. We haven't got air conditioning. Let's just close up for the day."
"It's only twelve-thirty," he retorted, unfazed.
"C'mon," Vince urged, offering the shaman his most adorable grin and wide blue puppy eyes. "You don't want to coop me up in here, Naboo. You gave Howard the day off and you don't even like him as much as me."
Naboo regarded Vince suspiciously. "How many customers have already come in today?"
"A hundred and fifty-two."
"Mm-hmm. And what did they buy?"
"Melon ballers."
Naboo's eyes narrowed as he regarded Vince, the younger man's smile a hopeful attempt at looking convincing. The shaman sighed. "All right, whatever," he assented, continuing his trek up the stairs.
"Cool," Vince smiled, grabbing an embroidered silver and white hat from the coat rack.
"Oh, and Vince?" Naboo interrupted, waiting until he had the raven haired young man's attention before continuing. "Some dark and spooky men are coming over later to bring me a tear-stained package in a padlocked box. You and Howard are not to open it."
Naboo looked over his sunglasses at Vince, and a darkness like none other slowly roiled across his features like storm clouds consuming a bright sky. A section of violins quivered loudly in dramatic foreshadowing.
But Vince hadn't noticed.
"No problem, mate," he agreed cheerfully, completely breaking the tension. He placed the hat on his head and posed briefly in front of the mirror before exiting the shop with a spring in his step. "Catch you later."
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Meanwhile, at the community garden, one Howard Moon leaned back to wipe the sweat from his hair-plastered brow, leaving a streak of dirt in his wake. The rest of his hair was scraggly and moist with sweat in the sun, despite his sun-blocking safari-themed hat with the chinstrap strings tightened all the way. His yellow Hawaiian shirt was stained wet all down the back. In businesslike motions, he straightened his tweed gardening gloves, taking a short moment to catch his breath and examine the results of his hours of hard work. Before him stood one tiny seedling encased in a mound amid a wide square of barren dirt.
"This is the community garden?"
Howard glanced back briefly when he heard the familiar voice and leaned back onto the balls of his feet.
"It might not look like much, but the community coming together to make this neighborhood a brighter place is just the kind of initiative and bravery this world is lacking, Vince," he lectured in his most serious voice. "The community board okayed my requisition for a personal plot only yesterday. I'm just here to do my part—no more, no less."
He shot Vince a pointed glance. "It would do you well to think of the community you live in for once… giving back, maybe, instead of always taking and wasting."
Vince raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he surveyed the land, leaning his weight on one hip. "Are you the only one helping out? It doesn't look very garden-y."
"Well, the borough only gave this land to the good people of this neighborhood just a few years back," Howard argued defensively. "The project itself is but a seedling—struggling for life, seeking light amidst the darkness. It's a beautiful thing, sir."
"A few years? I'm pretty sure it only takes, like, a few weeks for a plant to grow," Vince retorted, still unimpressed. "And this place is well terrifying—I mean, look at it!"
He gestured towards the small vacant lot. In contrast to the cheerfully sunny atmosphere of the rest of the block, the community garden was blackened in absolute night, complete with a full moon, the menacing bays of far-off wolves, and the fierce howl of the wind. The fallow, cracked earth produced only a few winding thistles and a crooked tree with branches like long claws and a trunk with the twisted effigy of a face contorted into a scream. Beneath the tree, several skeletal arms stuck up through the earth.
A lone, feathery-gray moth fluttered soundlessly beside the tree, and an enormous, shrieking owl swooped down to scoop it up in its razor-sharp beak—heartbeats later, the tree itself extended one gnarled branch and scooped the owl into the screaming-man knot in its trunk. A thick, sinister looking sap oozed from its twisted mouth, glistening in the moonlight. The tree let out a low, dark moan.
Vince recoiled, making an 'eesh' face at Howard. "I didn't know anything about a community garden—I always thought this area was called the Nightmare Square."
"That's enough, okay?" Howard rebuked in a low voice, focusing back on the lonely, wilting seedling in his personal plot. "What are you doing here, anyway? Who's minding the shop?"
"I'm visiting you, dummy," Vince smiled, sitting Indian-style on the sidewalk as Howard toiled over his plant. "It was boring at the shop, Naboo closed early today."
Howard frowned a little, irritated. "Just see to it that you don't distract me too much. I'm doing important work, here. One slip… one wrong move… and a tiny, precious life-flame is extinguished forever from the ever burning wick of the universe."
Vince rolled his eyes with a good-natured smile. Over the years he'd become very good at going along with Howard's illusions of grandeur. "Whatever," he acceded with a quiet bout of laughter.
A few comfortable moments passed, the only noises to break through the pleasant drone of summer insects being the muffled sound of Howard's digging.
"So, what's that weird knife thing you're using there?" Vince asked, breaking the silence.
Howard sighed a little, but wasn't surprised that his peace hadn't gone uninterrupted for more than a few moments. "This is a trowel," he explained with a forced sort of patience. "It's only the most important tool in the world of gardening. Much like a samurai's sword is forged to exactly fit the hand of the warrior who wields it, each true gardener's trowel is crafted painstakingly for each individual. In many gardening communities, a man without his trowel is considered naked and is flogged publicly in the streets."
Vince looked disbelieving, not for the first time today. "You sent away for that thing?"
Howard sighed again, his tone growing terser. "It's been personally fashioned for my individual grip. It's not so much a tool, but an extension of my arm. I doubt anyone else could wield this particular trowel."
"Let me see?" Vince inquired. Howard snorted.
"You can try, little man."
Vince went to take the instrument away from Howard, but the taller man jerked back as if shocked.
"C'mon, then, let's give it a go," Vince said impatiently, motioning for Howard to give him the trowel.
"Don't ever do that again. What's wrong with you?" Howard scolded, voice brimming with alarm.
"You said I could try it!"
"Never touch another man's trowel, Vince."
Vince rolled his eyes and leaned back on the heels of his palms.
"Anyway, it all seems like a lot of work for some dinky little shrubs. You look like you're about to die."
Howard scoffed. "Gardening is a lifelong commitment, sir. You must forsake all mortal duties and become a sentinel of the earth. You must prove to Mother Gaia that you are worthy of her fruits."
"Hmm… maybe. I bet I could do it better, even without your stupid dirt sword." Vince shot back, his tone challenging. Howard only shook his head with a condescending chortle.
Intent on proving him wrong, Vince leaned forward, peering curiously at the soil in front of him. A glimmer of understanding sparked in his eyes like a slow burning green flame, and he brought out one hand to hover steadily over the ground. Knitting his brow in concentration, a tiny green stem burst through the soil and unfurled, glittering with same strange spirit reflected in Vince's eyes. As an unseen orchestra crescendoed an achingly sweet tune, several more seedlings began to sprout and grow, the larger ones now blooming with soft-petaled pink flowers.
"Stop that," Howard interrupted loudly, sounding cross. The music cut out abruptly, and most of the smaller seedlings withered and curled from their sudden lack of attention. Vince grinned again, pleased with himself.
Howard growled in frustration, finally lobbing his trowel to the ground.
"You're breaking my concentration."
"I haven't done anything."
"You're breaking it—you're tainting my deep, unflappable bond with the earth."
"Oh, get off it," Vince exclaimed. He motioned to the trowel mockingly. "You'd better pick that up, you'll be flogged in the streets."
Howard shot Vince a murderous look. Vince tried to smother a laugh.
"I'm only trying to look out for your safety."
"Yeah, well… thanks a lot," Howard grumbled. He paused, taking in a deep lungful of summer air and exhaling it in a short huff. "Do you want to get some ice cream?"
"How about instead, you buy me a new headband?" Vince suggested, raising his eyebrows.
"How about I don't buy you a headband, and we go catch some fresh funk dropping at the jazz hut, eh? Make a real night of it?"
The grin that spread across Howard's face and lit up his eyes was reminiscent of a rapist at an unattended schoolyard.
"Two ice creams, and you buy me a whole new outfit," Vince declared stonily.
Howard considered this and sighed, defeated. "Deal."
The pair got to their feet and dusted off, each differing amounts of pleased by the interaction that had taken place. In the community garden, a large, twitchy centipede inspected Howard's freshly-planted seedling with its feelers. Satisfied with its assessment, it reared its black head to reveal a pair of enormous, glistening mandibles. With a single nibble, the entire seedling turned black and crumbled into ash—its powdery remains soon blew into the wind, and the centipede scuttled away.
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Reviews are beloved, and might result in faster updates. In the storytelling stylings of the juicy dangler, here are some things that will be found in the next installment of The Switch:
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- Vince surprises Howard with a good deed
- Vince and Howard are the victims of magical circumstance
- Naboo gives Vince and Howard the run-around—but also dire news
- Flirty vicars!
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Stay tuned!