Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: Charitable
Jun. 24th, 2017 11:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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The charity boutique that had sprung up in the vacant storefront on Main was awash with colour. Paper chain garlands and flowers made of bright coloured tissue hung at regular intervals from the damp-stained plasterboard ceiling. A scanty number of mannequins stood apart from one another, posed dramatically to show off the donated designer goods they had been draped in. At a long folding table pushed back against one wall, smiling volunteers in shapeless cardigans and white t-shirts emblazoned with the word CHARITY handed out complementary tea and biscuits.
"I don't like it," said Marshall, peering through the spotless plate-glass window and trying to spot his mother and sister through the crowd of civic-minded shoppers.
Simon cast an appraising eye over the decorations, the free comestibles, and the merchandise on display.
"It's not up to the level of the Unkind Ones or the Ladies," he agreed, "But you know, they don't have a monopoly on fundraising for good causes in this town, and plenty of smaller groups want to do their part too."
"I know," said Marshall. "And I wasn't expecting a fashion show where all the clothes are carnivorous plants or a ballet about the exact place to stab a dragon if you need to skin it's hide with minimal damage in order to complete a quest. It's just..."
"Just what?"
"They've never actually said what they're raising money for," said Marshall, pulling out a wad of crumpled flyers that had come with the previous day's Eerie Examiner. He smoothed one out and passed it to his most trusted associate. "See? It just says 'for charity' over and over again in a bunch of different fonts."
"Oh," said Simon, turning back to regard the pop-up shop with rapidly-growing discomfort.
"Yeah," said Marshall.
"Well, they could just be badly organised," said Simon. "Remember when that guy with the Wurlitzer came into town for a concert and none of the posters had the day or time on?"
Marshall grimaced.
"I remember," he said. "I was this close to getting a picture of the clockwork fairies that live in the bottom of the bell-tower when that thing started up and they all went rushing off to join the dancing."
"I'm glad somebody showed up," said Simon. "I felt bad for him, dragging that huge pipe organ from town to town and playing in empty bandstands."
Marshall shrugged. The downcast man in his dusty tuxedo had been interesting when there was a chance of Phantom-of-the-Opera type shenanigans, but with the reveal that he was just an ordinary guy who wasn't very good at planning, Marshall's attention had waned.
"Did you bring protection?" he asked, turning back to the matter at hand.
"No," said Simon. "I thought we were just helping your mom with the grocery shopping. I didn't even know this store was here."
Marshall handed over a slightly singed lace doily. Simon looked up at him, his face full of questions.
"Remember at the Eerie Swap Meet when Mrs. Walter-Funk cast a glamour on those ugly china shepherdesses to make people want to buy them and an angry figurine-hunting mob tried to burn down Mary C. Carter's house to get at her aunt's collection?"
Simon nodded, and shuddered. He'd almost been trampled by enraged townsfolk screaming for the blood of Ma Ingalls, and he was pretty sure it had spoiled open-air markets for him for the foreseeable future. A psychic he'd consulted on the matter had agreed, and suggested therapy.
"Well, if you find any cursed tchotchkes, put that underneath it and it nullifies the effects."
Marshall took a doily of his own from his jacket pocket and shook it out, his expression thoughtful.
"You know, my grandma has a whole bunch of these things back in New Jersey," he said. "I wonder how many of them are about shielding the world from a cursed object instead of protecting the finish on an end-table or something."
"Probably all of them," said Simon, who had met Marshall's grandmother before. In his experience, no old lady carried that much sea-glass in her purse unless she was planning to tangle with a Deep One and win.
Marshall made a non-committal noise. While he could countenance Bigfoot, aliens, alternate realities where their lives were scripted entertainment broadcast to the masses, sentient weather systems, and that one universe where everyone was Canadian, the image of his grandmother tackling the forces of weirdness in her thick spectacles and sensible orthopaedic sandals made his brain hurt.
"Okay," he said, squaring his shoulders and balling the ragged doily tight in his fist. "Cover me, Simon, I'm going in. You know what to do if I come back with pottery figurines or an oil painting?"
Simon nodded.
"Kill it with fire, then find a priest."
Marshall gave him an approving nod, then dived through the heavy fire doors and into the shifting mass of bargain hunters. Alone on the sidewalk, Simon watched through the window as the cardigan-clad volunteers converged.
Trusted Associates, Inc.
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no subject
Date: 2017-06-24 05:26 pm (UTC)I love this. esp the little bits about Mars's grandma.
also it makes me think of this play I saw once where they kept talking about how all proceeds form the concession sales went to charity and it turned out that this one character had a niece named Charity...
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Date: 2017-06-24 08:24 pm (UTC)also it makes me think of this play I saw once where they kept talking about how all proceeds form the concession sales went to charity and it turned out that this one character had a niece named Charity...
LMAO that is totally the sort of thing Dash would do, I may steal that..
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Date: 2017-06-25 01:01 pm (UTC)Love this! I was just at a late-night comic con charity thing, too, which kind of added a layer of creepiness.
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Date: 2017-06-26 07:39 pm (UTC)Did anyone trick you into buying a cursed doll at the charity auction?
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Date: 2017-06-26 08:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-06-26 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-06-26 09:06 pm (UTC)