A Gasfelt Bond (Commission - Chapter 1)

Patty looked around as she stepped on the porch of the quaint old store that was squeezed between an art gallery and a candle store. Hopetown was popular for its downtown full of interesting and…eclectic shops. They had fortune tellers, creeper galleries, old bookshops, and even porn shops out in the open. But the one interesting shop that often went unnoticed was “Masha’s Magick.” Usually, one was more aware of it if you had a friend who mentioned it. Otherwise, you would walk right past it thinking it was a house. The store didn’t boast any fanciful sign or large printed words on its windows. The owner never set anything up outside on the porch. Whoever ran it just had a simple sign, plain text, standing next to the front door.

Patty had never been to a magic shop before, hence why she looked around before stepping in. She suffered from self-consciousness. She wanted to check if anyone she knew would suddenly appear around the corner of the street and ask, “What are you doing there, Patty?” But the more she stood there gawking, the higher the chance people would find her acting weird, so she hurried inside and was hit with a much warmer air thick with incense. The door hit an overhead bell, notifying the owner of a customer.

            The back wall behind the register was filled with shelves upon shelves of glass jars. Patty had never seen so many glass jars in one place before. She had no idea what was in them. Some looked like sage, others had garlic, pepper, salt, wheat, wax, and bones. Then there were some that had something organic and…fleshy that she didn’t really want to know. The hairs on her neck stood up the longer she stared at the fleshy lumps in the jar. Something screamed at her to turn around and leave, and she would have, were it not for the owner saying, “Hello. Need some help?”

            Patty froze, wide-eyed. A beautiful black-haired woman emerged from behind a curtain of beads. The first thing she thought, weirdly and instinctively, was, Damn, I wanna look like that. She was tall, probably past 6 feet, and somewhere in her forties maybe. Her most striking feature was her hair – long enough to touch her butt. The hair looked slightly disheveled but, in that chic, sexy way. She had never seen someone with such long hair since elementary school. The woman was dressed in a ruffled white long-sleeved blouse and black pants. She looked a little snug in her clothes.

            “Uhhhhh.”

            The woman spoke in a slight eastern European accent. “I see you don’t normally walk into these stores, correct?”

            “Heh. Uhhh, yes.”

            “You must be desperate about something to walk into here, correct?”

            “Pretty much.”

            The woman had made her nervous at first. The way she said “correct” sounded like a teacher, and Patty feared if she said the wrong thing the woman would scold her. But the woman then smiled and disarmed Patty.

            “Well then. You’re in right place. Tell me what’s wrong.” She spread her arm out to the wall of jars. With a light chuckle, she added, “As you can see. Very prepared.”

            “Ah. Yes. Ummmm.” Patty wasn’t sure how to talk about her situation. It was very embarrassing. Extremely embarrassing. So embarrassing that she thought about excusing herself and running away and never coming back.

            Lucky for her, the store owner took the hint. She said, “Ah. Maybe this problem…more personal?”

            Patty felt her cheeks warm up. “Er. Yes. Very. Ummm.”

            The woman motioned to a back door across the register, next to shelves filled with scented candles and incense. Patty followed hesitantly. Was this going to turn out like some weird therapy session? What if this was really all bullshit? Well, there was only one way to find out, and it was to follow her into the room.

She entered a small but cozy room with dim warm lighting. There was an old armchair across a table in the center. On the table was a glass ball, a deck of Tarot cards, a sketchpad, and several small animal bones in a bowl.

            “Don’t worry, they’re not human,” the woman said, chuckling. “Chicken bones from Shoprite.” She closed the door behind them.

            In a split second glance, as the woman went to sit down, Patty couldn’t help but notice how wide and large her ass was in her tight black jeans.

            Dang. That’s big. Good for her.

            The other chair across the table didn’t look so comfortable – just a metal chair with plastic cushioning. Patty sat down and fully committed to this experience. She had gone over numerous times in her head how to talk about her…situation.

She was lactose intolerant, gluten intolerant, caffeine intolerant—

            “You can call me Masha,” the woman said suddenly. “What are you here for? And don’t worry, this is a safe space.”

            “I uh, yeah.” Patty stumbled over her words. “Well, MY stuff is still quite embarrassing—”

            Masha put a hand up. “Please. Everyone has embarrassing story. Women are much more…how to say…red-faced?”

            “Embarrassed?” was the first suggestion Patty thought about.

“Ah, yes. Men never embarrassed. Men talk, and talk, and talk. Then tell women to shut up. So women always feel embarrassed to talk. But don’t worry. In here, you can tell me anything. Let the outside world drift away. In here, you are yourself.”

Patty chuckled. I like this woman…

            After a long sigh, she was relaxed. “O-okay. I…well, I don’t know if there’s such thing as a…potion? Or whatever? I don’t know how any of this works. But. See. I have many…food allergies. My doctors say I’m an oddball case. It’s almost like every food just makes me…” Patty motioned a balloon. “…so swollen! It doesn’t matter what I eat. I wasn’t always like this but it just developed somewhere in my twenties.”

            “Twenties?” Masha seemed surprised. “How old are you?”

            “Thirty-four.”

            “You look marvelous.”

            Patty blushed. She brushed aside her red hair. “T-thank you. Ahem. Well. You see. I’m thirty-four and haven’t…been able to settle down. Mostly because of this embarrassing body I have. I just…” Patty averted her gaze. She leaned forward and said, “I just fart all the time on first dates. ALL the time. Because of my food allergies. Loud. Long. Smelly. And I hardly ever get past the first date because of it!”

            Masha scoffed. “Not much of a man if he can’t bear a woman breaking wind. How do you meet these men?”

            Patty counted on her fingers going down the line. “Tinder. Match. Bumble. Kippo. Hush. Then there’s—”

            Masha grimaced with intense disgust. She interrupted her. “Have you tried…meeting them somewhere else?”

            Patty blanked. “What, like a bar?’

            Masha shrugged. “Yes? Like old times.”

            Patty chuckled. “God no. That’s even worse. It really is. You won’t find anyone sincere at a bar. Clubs are bad too. I don’t know why it’s so hard to date people nowadays. Not even DATE people. Just finding someone…who isn’t a jerk. You know? But I guess that’s the way the world works now. I don’t know if I just have a stick up my ass or what. I just…I want to find a way to see if I can…I don’t know…drink some potion to settle my stomach on a date? I’ve tried everything! Pepto, Tums, Imodium. Nothing works. But you can make potions, can’t you? Is that what you do here? I’m sorry if that’s generalizing.”

            Masha waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. I have right thing for you. You don’t have to drink strange potion. It’s a spell. You will never have to embarrass yourself ever again in front of boy. The gas will just…” Masha struggled for the correct English word. “Dissipate.”

            Patty couldn’t help but sound a little sarcastic. “Wow, really?”

That sounded ridiculous. For a moment, she wondered if this was all bullshit. A spell? Really? Were those things…possible?

            Masha smiled. “I can see right now that you doubt me.”

            “I—No. Well. Maybe. I just don’t understand how that can be possible.”

“If this doesn’t work, I will even promise a refund.”

            “How much is it?”

            Masha shrugged. “Fifty dollars.”

            Patty looked through her wallet and bit her lip. “Do you take card?”

            “Venmo?”

            She was lightly amused that a magic shop like this was up-to-date on electronic payment methods. “Perfect.”

            Once Patty made the payment, she wondered what was going to happen next, as they sat there in silence for a bit. Before she could ask, Masha reached out with her hands, palms up, on the table. Her demeanor changed. Masha’s face narrowed, but not in a way that scared Patty, in a way that pulled her to do as she was told. Without realizing, Patty reached out with her hand and held onto hers.

            The light flickered.

            That was just a coincidence, right?

            “Um, so, what’s the spell?” Patty asked.

            Masha’s voice was cool and calm. “Be still. I will take care of the rest.” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and started speaking in a language that Patty didn’t understand. Somehow, she knew it was not Slavic, or any other human language. It sounded…different. It made the hairs on her neck stand up. It sounded beautiful though, whatever it was. Masha enunciated rhythmically, almost like it was a song.       

            The spell took about a minute. There were instances where Masha stopped chanting and looked down with her eyes closed, almost appearing asleep, but then she made Patty jump when she lifted her head up again and chanted.

            Masha withdrew her hands slowly. “When is your next date?”

            “Tomorrow night.”

            Masha smiled thinly. She handed her a business card. “Go on date. Tell me how it went, okay?”

            “Y-yes, okay.” Patty didn’t know what else to say and got up. “So…just to understand…this spell means I won’t…” Despite the fact that they were in a locked room, she darted her eyes and cringed at the thought of anyone overhearing her. “I won’t…burp or fart in front of my date?”

            “Correct.”

            “And that won’t…hurt me or anything, right?”

            “Correct.”

            “Okay. Well then. Thank you…”