The Black Marble (standard:humor, 2620 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Jun 17 2002	Views/Reads: 4618/2655	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Paul accidentally runs over a gypsie's dog and is cursed.

Just another tedious humdrum day, or so I thought. I was about to make
the biggest mistake of my young life. Is there a more boring job than 
working in an electrical sales department?  I do not think so. Endless 
chatting on the phones and pretending to like the customer, who insists 
that you have supplied him with the wrong cable. Stuck behind the 
bloody computer nine till five, and worst of all, there was Mrs 
Robertson. 

Snobby Robby, as she was commonly known. She owned the firm and didn't
we know it. I loathed her, with her boring spectacles always perched on 
the end of her pointed nose, and her blue rinse perm. 

I was fantasising about my fifteenth method of killing Snobby Robby,
when a dog ran out in front of me, causing me to brake violently. The 
loud thud confirmed my worst fears. I had hit the mut. I sat shaking 
for a few moments, before I regained my composure. 

The dog, a Beagle, lay motionless in a ditch on the side of the roads. I
heard the rustle from the bushes and was confronted by two huge men. It 
did not need a second glance to confirm that they were not in the 
Einstein league. They both wore a single earring, and were heavily 
tattooed. One of them was cock-eyed, and the other had teeth like a 
deformed rabbit. They looked me up and down inquisitively, before 
approaching me. 

I sat motionless when they confronted me. “You've killed Bruno,” came
the cry from cockeye. 

“You'd better come with us,” said buckteeth. 

I was chaperoned into the woods, fearing the worst. A bullet in the head
or worse. I had seen Deliverance and wished that I had changed my boxer 
shorts. We walked for five minutes, until we came to a clearing. A 
horse drawn caravan with a crow perched on the roof was to be our 
destination. 

I was invited inside, if that is the word, and was now standing opposite
an old woman. She was a fearsome looking creature, with grey hair, no 
teeth and a wrinkled face that had seen better days. A cheroot was 
hanging from her white lips as she looked up at me. I had never seen so 
much jewellery on one person. She was like a walking Ratners. 

Buckteeth opened up. “He killed Bruno, ma.” 

“Killed him dead he did,” said cockeye. 

“Well what are we gonna do with you, Mr Stanton?” asked the old hag. 

“How'd you know my name?” 

“Ma knows everything don't ye ma?” said buckteeth. 

The old woman continued. “Now let me see. A punishment to fit the crime
will be appropriate, I believe.” 

I pleaded my case. “The bloody dog ran out in front of me. It was an
accident.” 

She was livid. “Cars are killers! You think you own the roads. You
townies need to be taught a lesson.” 

“The black marble, ma!” yelled buckteeth, excitedly. 

“Yeah, the black marble,” echoed his brother. 

“Mr Stanton, accept this,” she insisted. 

I held out my hand cautiously and rolled the glass ball around in my
hand. 

The old gypsy pointed at me, her craggy finger displaying a yellow
fingernail that must have been three inches long. “Heed my words young 
man; carry the black marble with you for one week. If you attempt to 
discard it, then my curse will be with you forever.” 



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