The Imaginary

Chapter 6: Mr. Travis can be Nasty Part 2

THE IMAGINARY

CHAPTER SIX: MR. TRAVIS CAN BE NASTY

PART 2

The stadium grounds was full of excited people, who were either audiences dressed in bright patterns of colors that matched their teams’, or vendors from normal to madman category. The so-called "whacko," Mr. Travis was here, slumped on the surface in an awfully relaxed position. Like a few more aging vendors, he was selling antiques. He had this dirty cloth laid out near him; on it were clocks, from small to large, from bronze to silver to gold he one by one wiped with another rag.

"Goodness, is that you, Charlie?" he said. His eyes tracked the show-off’s body. I think this was a parody of Mr. Littlepot’s ogle greeting. "What sorcery is this? Still quite the youngster." He stopped, then raised his head. "You’ve aged backwards, my old friend."

"You have mistaken me for someone else, Sir," said the show-off, in this oddly formal voice. That was out-of-character for someone like him. He was rubbing the back of his head. Maybe my sister hit him. Good one, Sis. "The name is Charles." Now, this was in-character.

Mr. Travis raised his tinted eyeglasses a little, and did another of those scans. Small traces of his unhealthy bloodshot eyes showed. He then realized he was wrong.

"Yes, yes. I see now. You are right, boy. But you resemble him, my friend Charlie Goblinspell. Same golden hair, same eyes."   

"Quick, let’s go," I heard Sis mumble to Charles. "I heard bad rumors about this guy. Like, really bad. The neighborhood abhors this traveling whacko. See all those patrol guards in the sector? They’re after him. They’re a bit tough in the nut not to realize he’s just here."

"He’s not that bad. He’s a whacky character. Hence, whacko." Having a show-off personality was equal to having bad humor, it seemed.

"I am indeed a traveler, Little Miss."

"And what do you do, Sir?"

"Yes? To travel, is it not?" Sis was annoyed by this bluntness. "I travel. I am a traveler. But, well, peddler sounds better. Do you not agree?"

"Come on, he’s not that bad." This time, it was Charles who murmured. "Travelers are adventurers. They seek new places."

"The boy is right."

I was near Sis and the show-off, so it was natural for me to hear their whispers. What was abnormal was how this old man had sharp ears.

"Or they are driven away." Sis sure did love to argue.

"Mr. Travis, what are you selling?" said Tom. The answer was obvious, my ghost lover friend.

"Oh, these. I sell clocks, boy. Fancied them since I was little, around a hundred and eleven years ago." Now, that was mad talk. Who would believe that lie? "I love tinkering with them. Though, I am thinking of selling watches, instead."

"What’s the difference? They both tell time. Do watches sell more?"

"For advancement, boy. Advancement."

"Don’t entertain him, Tom," said Sis, eyebrows still raised.

"You even have the same preference in women, boy Charlie: the nagging-types who’d forever roar to the heavens." Though he was poetically badmouthing my sister, I’d have to agree with him on this one.

"She’s different from that kind, Sir," said Charles. He calmed Sis before she could even grow violent. "She’s a little more...extreme." That earned him an elbow. "Mr. Traveler, I’m curious. You said something about Charlie Goblinspell?" Now that I thought of it, this name was familiar.