The Black Marble (standard:humor, 2620 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Jun 17 2002	Views/Reads: 4618/2654	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Paul accidentally runs over a gypsie's dog and is cursed.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

“Curse?” 

“After one week, you'll be free from the black marble, but once more I
say; don't let it out of your sight. Carry it with you always.” 

I could live with that; besides, what a load of bollocks. Gypsies and
curses. I believed I had gotten off lightly. Dumb and dumber escorted 
me back to my car and I drove speedily to work. I was late and had to 
face the wrath of Snobby Robby. 

All heads were down when I entered my office, and a few wry smirks
adorned the features of my colleagues. They knew what was to come. The 
dreaded inquisition. There she was, standing with her hands on her 
hips, waiting for me at my desk, like a schoolteacher about to scold a 
pupil. 

“Well, Paul, what excuse do you have this time?” 

“Mrs Robertson, I ran over a dog and had to settle things with the
owners.” 

“A likely story. This'll be deducted from your wages, I hope you know...
Now empty the waste bins and ashtrays. I've some important customers 
coming this morning.” 

“Yes, Mrs Robertson.” 

Mary Slaney, the office flirt leant over my desk. If her intended victim
was married, then all the better. She had been through almost the 
entire staff at Robertson's Electricals. I was one of her more 
difficult subjects. Not that the thought of romping with the man-eating 
redhead had not entertained one of my rare fantasies, as I made love to 
my timid boring wife Judy. 

Judy must be the most naive person on the planet. The missionary was the
one and only position that she would entertain. Her middle name was 
frigid. 

“Paul, why don't you take me for a drink tonight?” 

“Because, Mary, I'm a married man.” 

She started to sniff, wrinkling her cute button nose as she moved
closer. “Shit, Paul, your breath smells of...well, it smells like a 
dog's breath.” 

“Thank you very much, Mary. That completes my shitty morning.” 

I must admit, my mouth did feel like it needed freshening up. I ran my
hand through my stubble and was surprised by how quickly it had grown. 
I had shaven only this morning. 

Later that morning, I took rather a large order and decided to take it
into Snobby Robby. Maybe after she saw it, she would overlook my 
unpunctuality this morning. I knocked on her door and suddenly felt the 
urge to visit the toilet. 

“Enter!” was the order. 

I entered her office, and she gave me daggers, staring at me as if I had
treaded something in off the streets. It did not help that she was 
entertaining the important customers that she had spoken of. 

I placed the sheet on her desk, and my eyes were attracted to her
treasured rubber plant in the corner. How she loved that darn plant. I 
watered and fed it almost every day. What happened next will go down in 
folklore at Robertson's Electrics. 

I walked over to her plant, and in front of the prying eyes of the
customers, I pulled down my trousers and boxer shorts. I held my todger 
and proceeded to urinate on the plant, cocking one of my legs to the 
side. 

The gasps and groans echoed throughout the room, as I shook my old man,
allowing the remaining droplets to water the plant. 

Snobby Robby fainted and was being tended to by the shocked customers. I
pulled up my trousers and went back to work. Needless to say, I 
received my marching orders shortly afterwards. 

Judy was doing her housework when I arrived home. 

“You're early, dear,” she stated, in that high-pitched Marilyn Munroe
voice of hers. Even her hair was styled on the film star. 

“I was fired, dear,” I mumbled under my breath. 

“I didn't quite catch that, dear.” 

“I was fired... sacked... employment terminated... on the dole... Do you
want me to spell it out?” 

“You mean, they finished you?” she shrieked. 

“Yes, they finished me.” 

“But Robertson's was your life, dear. Why would they fire you?” 

“Because, I pissed on Snobby Robby's plant.” 

“You did what?” 

“Forget it, Judy. There's plenty more jobs out there.” 

I approached her from behind, as she dusted the television. 

“What'd you think you're doing, Paul?” # “We've a free afternoon, Judy.
Let's go upstairs.” 

She giggled when I nibbled her ears. I knew that was her weakness. 

“But honey, it's only Thursday,” she moaned. 

“Am I on some sort of rationing here? Monday, Tuesday, Thursday; who
cares what day it is?” 

I led her upstairs. She was reluctant, but the ear nibbling did the
trick. 

“Paul, you really need a shave.” 

“Forget the shave, lover,” I said, as I started to undress her. 

She lay on the bed on her back, waiting to receive me. I kissed her and
she pushed away my head. 

“What've you been eating, Paul?” 

“Forget that,” I said, and I turned her onto her stomach. 

“And what do you think you're doing?” 

“Let's do it doggy style darling; just for a change.” 

She sat up and pushed me away. “Whatever's come over you?” she asked, in
that irritating voice of hers. “That's disgusting and perverted.” 

“It'll make a nice change, love. Everybody does it.” 

“Well, I don‘t. You aren't putting that thing anywhere near my
backside.” 

“I suppose a blow job's out of the question then?” 

She slapped me. “Where ever did you hear such filth?” 

“Well, how about rubbing my belly then?” I said, my tongue hanging out. 

“You sicko,” she screamed. “You ought to see a psychiatrist.” 

With that, she exited the bedroom. 

Thursday night was greyhound night. One of my only pleasures in life was
gambling. I looked in the mirror and was surprised to see how hairy I 
was. Perhaps my hormones had gone haywire, but at the age of 
twenty-seven, I rapidly dismissed that theory. I pondered time and time 
again over my actions in Snobby Robby's office, but could not explain 
it. It seemed natural at the time. Perhaps Judy was right; maybe I did 
need to see a shrink. I had apologised to her for my erratic behaviour 
in the bedroom, and she forgave me, putting it down to the stress of 
losing my job. 

I finished shaving and dressed for the evening. As I hung my trousers
up, an object fell to the floor. It was the black marble. I had 
completely forgotten about it. I fingered it and studied the glass 
ball. I laughed, when I recalled the proposed curse the old gypsy had 
placed on me. I placed the marble on the dressing table and prepared 
for my night at the greyhound track. 

Jacko and Danny were seated at their usual table when I joined them,
sipping their flat warm beer from the plastic beakers. 

“Yo Paul, how's it going?” asked Jacko. 

“Don't ask. It surely cannot get any worse... I killed a dog, got
sacked, and had a barney with our lass.” 

Danny grinned. “Well, I'll be sure to avoid your tips tonight. Four
girls, who were much the worse for drink, were seated at the next 
table, eyeing the available talent up. The blonde with the short 
leather skirt sat behind me and brushed my back. She looked around 
curiously and smiled at me. The contact was now much firmer, and I felt 
her foot rubbing against my leg. I turned to face her and began to 
sniff at her. Her friends giggled at the spectacle, when I licked her 
face. 

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” 

“Are you on heat?” I asked. 

The slap stung my cold face, much to the amusement of my mates. 

“You bitch!” I yelled. 

“What did you call me?” 

She slapped me again, only this time on the other side of my face, so
that I had matching red cheeks. She left the bar, her friends in tow. 

We selected our positions at the trackside and awaited the first race.
It was a pleasant evening, the orange sky promising another fine day 
tomorrow. The white-coated stewards were placing the greyhounds into 
their appropriate traps. The floodlights were dowsed and the sound of 
the mechanical hare could be heard. 

“The hares running,” came the cry from the speakers. 

“What've you backed here, Paul?” asked Danny. 

I ignored him, for my attention was elsewhere. I vaulted over the
barrier when the hare passed and gave chase. The six dogs veered wide 
and plummeted me to the ground. I regained my balance and sprinted 
after them, watching as they disappeared into the distance. 

The stewards by now were giving chase, and a couple of them were knocked
to the ground, after the greyhounds completed a circuit of the track. 
It was like a scene from the Keystone Cops and the audience loved it, 
well most of them that is. The hare stopped and I raced the muzzled 
greyhounds to claim my prize. I picked the hare up with my teeth and 
shook my head violently, and growling. The other dogs backed off, 
unsure what to make of me. 

Naturally, I was ousted from the ground by a constable, who took my
details. I flagged down a taxi and headed home. 

I stroked my face and was shocked by the rapidity of my growing hair. I
bypassed Judy, who was fixated with Jerry Springer, and made for the 
bathroom. 

The face that stared back at me was unfamiliar. I was beginning to
resemble the wolf man. My teeth were now beginning to ache, and I 
brushed them rapidly, to freshen my rancid breath. I clenched my teeth 
and looked in the mirror. To my horror, I could see that they were 
tapering to a point. I was turning into a dog! 

My thoughts ventured to the old gypsy and the black marble. Surely, the
events of the day could not be connected. She had told me that it was 
only for a week, as long as I kept the marble. I entered the bedroom in 
search of the black marble. 

“The marble. Where the fuck's the marble?” I yelled. “Ow, ow, ow!” 

Judy took the stairs three at a time. “What was that?” 

“The marble, where's the marble?” I quizzed. 

“Oh, that. I was about to throw it away, but gave it to a small boy who
was passing... Your face; what's happened to your face?” 

“What boy?” 

“I've never seen him before?” 

I started to whimper and Judy comforted me. We fell onto the bed and she
stroked my head. That night, we were intimate for the last time. 

I had made up my mind. I had to find the gypsy woman and explain my
predicament. Surely, she would understand that I was not to blame. 

Judy had implored me to see a doctor. “A doctor or a vet?” I had asked.
Anyway, that would come later. I have shaved this morning, but the hair 
seems to just grow faster. I was also developing whiskers. 

I decided to cut across the golf course. Two burly youths were preparing
to tee off and I waited out of courtesy. The youth, who was wearing the 
red baseball cap, addressed the ball and swung. The ball disappeared 
over the horizon, and I bounded after it, down the lush, green fairway, 
and barking loudly. The youths, realising what my destination was, 
sprinted after me. 

“Come back here, you wacko.” 

I climbed into the bunker and squatted down on all fours, picking the
golf ball up with my teeth. 

“Fucking psycho!” screamed one of the youths, as he kicked me, causing
me to yelp. The other one joined in, lashing out with his feet. I 
growled and faced my attackers. They backed off and I lunged, sinking 
my teeth into the arm of one. They fled towards the clubhouse with me 
in hot pursuit. The tables were now turned. 

My attention was averted to a cat, a ginger moggie. I chased the cat,
much to the relief of the youths, and the amusement of the members who 
were lining the windows of the clubhouse. 

Well, here I am nine months later, locked up in a padded cell, with my
Beagle's head, complete with studded collar. Several doctors examined 
me and were as baffled as each other. My account of what happened held 
no credence with them. It only verified my insanity. 

There was almost a happy ending, but not quite. Judy fell pregnant that
night, nine months ago. I had received news that she was about to give 
birth at any time now. 

The warder brought my dinner. He placed my bowl in the corner and I
thanked him, promising him the pick of the litter. Judy was about to 
have the biggest shock of her life. 


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