Wickett's Remedy by Myla Goldberg Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn’t expecting to see you until Saturday.
    I know, but I figured the news might make it more like a Saturday in here than usual. You heard about what happened?
    I did. Absolutely terrible. I hate the water, can’t imagine a worse way to die. Gives me a sick feeling every time I think about it. I had to fix myself abromide and then was too shook up to drink it standing, so I had to sit on one of my own stools.
    One thousand innocent people.
    One hundred twenty-eight of them American! I don’t see how Wilson can keep us out of it now.
    The Huns are lower than a dog’s belly. They all deserve to be sunk. I figure people’ll be wanting to talk.
    Well, so far it’s just a regular Tuesday in here, Quent. I suppose you could check back later if you wanted, but if you want my opinion I think you’re getting too old for this sort of thing.
    What’s your meaning, Mr. Thornly?
    It’s time you started up with something of your own instead of selling sodas for me. You ought to be selling something for yourself.
    One day I will, Mr. Thornly. You just watch. One day I’ll have a store of my own.
    Sure, but how are you gonna go about getting yourself that store, Quentin? When I was your age, I had already been selling headache powder for five years.
    Headache powder?
    It was a good product. I started when I was sixteen, first door-to-door, and then to the drugstores, and eventually I expanded into stomach pills and hair tonics and by the time I was twenty-eight, I had saved enough to rent a storefront.
    You’re not trying to fire me, are you?
    Hell no, Quentin! But if you’re serious about running a store of your own, you’d be doing yourself a favor to take up with a product. It’ll round out the education you’re getting here with me.
    I don’t think headache powder’s my line, though. In today’s modern world, you need something that stands out.
    Now you’re talking sharp. If you keep an eye to the world and an ear to the ground, I’m sure you’ll find the perfect thing. In the meantime, have a lemon soda and don’t let this
Lusitania
business drag you down.
    Thanks, Mr. Thornly.
    That’ll be a nickel.
    All right, but so long as you’re charging me, make it the way I make it—in a nice glass with lots of syrup.

THE QDISPATCH
    VOLUME 9, ISSUE 2 SPRING 1991
    The Coin-Op Show
    Those of us who were able to make it this year were not disappointed. Stan Apotts won the prize for farthest traveled, having flown in from Wisconsin, as Cathy Beauregard, our usual long-distance spoiler, stayed in California this year to help look after her newest grandchild, who she’s already turning into a QD fan!
    There were several handsome QD ads picked up by yours truly, including an almost mint condition metal sign featuring Delores Opple, my favorite QD Cutie. But the real gem of the show was found by Francis Greely, who was lucky enough to discover a 24-jag crown cap of the sort that was discontinued after the bottling facility was upgraded in 1925! And if anyone out there has thoughts of a swap, believeme, we’ve all already tried and she’s not trading!
    Of course, the best part of the weekend was catching up with old friends. In our usual suite at the Days Inn we stayed up past our bedtimes listening to tapes of the old radio programs and swapping remembrances. To those of our regulars unable to join the fun this year due to poor health: I wish you a speedy recovery and hope to see you next year!
    An Unexpected Call
    I was sitting at home one night a few weeks ago when the phone rang. When I picked up, the voice on the other end said, “Hello, Lorena, this is Ralph Finnister.” Of course at first I thought it was one of you QDevils out there up to your usual good-natured hijinks, but the voice at the other end of the line assured me that this was no trick. I asked him to prove it.
    When he asked me how he might do that, I suggested that he tell me the secret recipe for QD. He laughed and said that he was afraid he