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Authors: Francesca Lia Block
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But next to the coffee bean shop was a window filled with strange things. There were cupids, monster heads, mermaids, Egyptian cats, jaguars with clocks in theirbellies, animal skulls; and lighting up all the rest was a lamp shaped like a globe of the world.
Witch Baby stood in front of the dust-streaked window, wondering why she had never noticed this place before. She stared at the globe, thinking of My Secret Agent Lover Man and the lamp he had told Weetzie about.
Then she opened the door and skated into a room cluttered with merry-go-round horses, broken china, bolts of glittery fabric, Persian carpets and many lamps. The lamps weren’t lit and the room was so dark that Witch Baby could hardly see. But she did notice a gold turban rising just above a low counter at the back of the store. A humming voice came from beneath the turban.
“Greetings. What have you come for?” The voice was like an insect buzzing toward Witch Baby and she saw a pair of slanted firefly eyes watching her. A tiny man stepped from behind the counter. He smelled of almonds and smoke.
“I want the globe lamp,” Witch Baby said.
The man shuffled closer. “My, my, I haven’t seen one of my own kind in ages. You’re certainly small enough and you have the eyes. But I wouldn’t have recognized you in those rolling boots. Is that what we’re wearing these days?” He looked down at his embroidered, pointed-toed slippers. “What have you come for?”
“The globe lamp,” Witch Baby repeated.
“I wouldn’t recommend the globe lamp. It’s not a traditional enough abode. On the other hand, you may notwant to be bothered with all those people rubbing the lid and whispering their wishes all the time. It gets tiresome, doesn’t it, this lamp business? They don’t understand that the really good wishes like world peace are just out of our league and those love wishes are such a risk. So the globe’s a fine disguise, I suppose. No one bothering you for happily ever after. I understand, believe me; that’s why I quit. The lamp business I’m in now is much less complicated.”
“What time are we upon and where do I belong?” Witch Baby asked.
“This is the time we’re upon.” He blinked three times, shuffled over to the window, drew back a black curtain and reached to touch the globe lamp. Suddenly it changed. Where there had been a painted sea, Witch Baby saw real water rippling. Where there had been painted continents, there were now forests, deserts and tiny, flickering cities. Witch Baby thought she heard a whisper of tears and moans, of gunshots and music.
The man unplugged the lamp, and it became dark and still. He carried it over to Witch Baby and placed it in her arms. Because she was so small, the lamp hid everything except for two hands with bitten fingernails and two skinny legs in black cowboy-boot roller skates.
“Where do I belong?”
“At home,” said the man. “At home in the globe.”
When Witch Baby peeked around the globe lamp to thank him, she found herself standing on the sidewalk in front of a deserted building. There was only dust andshadow in the window, but somehow Witch Baby thought she saw the image of a tiny man reflected there. Skating home, she remembered the lights and whispers of the world.
It was late when Witch Baby returned to the cottage and tiptoed into the pink room that Weetzie and My Secret Agent Lover Man shared. They lay in their bed asleep, surrounded by bass guitars, tiki heads, balloons, two surfboards, a unicycle, a home-movie camera and Rubber Chicken. My Secret Agent Lover Man was tossing and turning and grinding his teeth. Weetzie lay beside him with her blonde mop of hair and aqua feather nightie. She was trying to stroke the lines out of his face.
Witch Baby watched them for a while. Then she plugged in the globe lamp, took the article about the glowing blue ball out of her pocket, put it on My Secret Agent Lover Man’s chest and stepped back into the darkness.
Suddenly
Witch Baby stood in front of the dust-streaked window, wondering why she had never noticed this place before. She stared at the globe, thinking of My Secret Agent Lover Man and the lamp he had told Weetzie about.
Then she opened the door and skated into a room cluttered with merry-go-round horses, broken china, bolts of glittery fabric, Persian carpets and many lamps. The lamps weren’t lit and the room was so dark that Witch Baby could hardly see. But she did notice a gold turban rising just above a low counter at the back of the store. A humming voice came from beneath the turban.
“Greetings. What have you come for?” The voice was like an insect buzzing toward Witch Baby and she saw a pair of slanted firefly eyes watching her. A tiny man stepped from behind the counter. He smelled of almonds and smoke.
“I want the globe lamp,” Witch Baby said.
The man shuffled closer. “My, my, I haven’t seen one of my own kind in ages. You’re certainly small enough and you have the eyes. But I wouldn’t have recognized you in those rolling boots. Is that what we’re wearing these days?” He looked down at his embroidered, pointed-toed slippers. “What have you come for?”
“The globe lamp,” Witch Baby repeated.
“I wouldn’t recommend the globe lamp. It’s not a traditional enough abode. On the other hand, you may notwant to be bothered with all those people rubbing the lid and whispering their wishes all the time. It gets tiresome, doesn’t it, this lamp business? They don’t understand that the really good wishes like world peace are just out of our league and those love wishes are such a risk. So the globe’s a fine disguise, I suppose. No one bothering you for happily ever after. I understand, believe me; that’s why I quit. The lamp business I’m in now is much less complicated.”
“What time are we upon and where do I belong?” Witch Baby asked.
“This is the time we’re upon.” He blinked three times, shuffled over to the window, drew back a black curtain and reached to touch the globe lamp. Suddenly it changed. Where there had been a painted sea, Witch Baby saw real water rippling. Where there had been painted continents, there were now forests, deserts and tiny, flickering cities. Witch Baby thought she heard a whisper of tears and moans, of gunshots and music.
The man unplugged the lamp, and it became dark and still. He carried it over to Witch Baby and placed it in her arms. Because she was so small, the lamp hid everything except for two hands with bitten fingernails and two skinny legs in black cowboy-boot roller skates.
“Where do I belong?”
“At home,” said the man. “At home in the globe.”
When Witch Baby peeked around the globe lamp to thank him, she found herself standing on the sidewalk in front of a deserted building. There was only dust andshadow in the window, but somehow Witch Baby thought she saw the image of a tiny man reflected there. Skating home, she remembered the lights and whispers of the world.
It was late when Witch Baby returned to the cottage and tiptoed into the pink room that Weetzie and My Secret Agent Lover Man shared. They lay in their bed asleep, surrounded by bass guitars, tiki heads, balloons, two surfboards, a unicycle, a home-movie camera and Rubber Chicken. My Secret Agent Lover Man was tossing and turning and grinding his teeth. Weetzie lay beside him with her blonde mop of hair and aqua feather nightie. She was trying to stroke the lines out of his face.
Witch Baby watched them for a while. Then she plugged in the globe lamp, took the article about the glowing blue ball out of her pocket, put it on My Secret Agent Lover Man’s chest and stepped back into the darkness.
Suddenly
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