Mister Stuckey’s Hustle by Shawn D. Brink
Mister Stuckey’s stomach growled. He only ate once a day, and it was almost mealtime.
He sat in front of his cardboard lean-to and stared down the gloomy alleyway. Somebody was coming – a woman.
He recognized her as the one he’d spoken with yesterday. She wore the same clothes as before. Although her white blouse was now pit-stained and her black slacks were torn at the knees. The circles under her eyes conveyed exhaustion.
“Did you bring my payment?” he asked.
She nodded and handed him a brown paper bag.
He snatched it from her and opened the bag. The aroma wafted from that opening. Immediately, his mouth began to salivate.
“You have what you want! Now please do what you promised! Erase my memory! It’s too horrible! I don’t want to remember it ever again!” Her voice was harsh with strain.
Mister Stuckey looked into the open bag and confirmed his payment. “I can’t erase memories. I can only transfer them. I told you this yesterday.”
“Yes, I know what you said! Just do whatever it is that you do! Please take it away from me!”
Mister Stuckey pulled the sandwich from the bag. “This is from Giuseppe’s right?”
“Yes,” she answered. “That’s what you asked for! Now do what you promised!”
“Patience,” he replied. “I have to eat my meal first. I can’t transfer a memory on an empty stomach.”
She began to rub her palms against her knees. Mister Stuckey had first seen her do this yesterday and the fact that her slacks no longer had knee-fabric confirmed that she had been quite obsessive in this habit.
“What is this horrible memory of anyway?” he inquired.
“I – I can’t say! It’s beyond description!” Her face contorted with terror. “Don’t ask me such things! Please, finish eating so that we can get on with it!”
“How long have you been plagued with this memory?”
“Since yesterday.”
Mister Stuckey took a big bite of the sandwich. “When did you come to discover that I had the ability to transfer memories?”
“Also yesterday, seconds after the horrible memory took hold, as I was walking by this alley.”
Mister Stuckey swallowed. “I see. But how did you know I could help?”
“I don’t know how I knew,” she paused. “I just knew.”
Mister Stuckey nodded and gulped down more of the sandwich. He loved Giuseppe’s. They made the best Italian subs.
“It’s horrible! Please hurry. Erase it from my mind!”
Mister Stuckey put the final bite in his mouth, savored it, and swallowed. “Like I said, I can’t erase memories. I only have the ability to transfer them.”
“Whatever! Just make it so I won’t remember it anymore!”
Mister Stuckey nodded. “Well, you paid my price. What kind of businessman would I be if I didn’t provide you with my service?” He paused and then continued. “Come closer.”
She knelt down in front of him, shaking like a leaf.
Quickly, he reached out with both hands and grabbed her by the ears. He pulled her close, so that they were eye-to-eye and nose-to-nose. “Open your mouth.”
She did.
With their parted lips nearly touching, he exhaled. When his lungs were empty, he flung her away.
She somersaulted from him and floundered in the alley’s refuse before squirming to her feet. She stared at him momentarily. A crazy smile overwhelmed her face. “It’s gone!” she shouted. “The memory is gone!” And with that, she ran away.
No sooner had she left, then another sound entered Mister Suckey’s ears. It was a scream, a bone-chilling scream.
A man entered the alley. He landed on his knees before Mister Stuckey. He didn’t seem to care that his thousand-dollar suit was touching alley-trash or that the man before him was a vagrant.
“Please sir, I don’t know how I know this, but I know you can help me!” The man’s voice was tattered and hoarse. “Please help me!”
“What do you want me to do for you?” Mister Stuckey asked with a grin.
“I just received this terrible, horrible memory! I can’t stand it! Please erase it!”
“I can’t erase memories.”
“But you must!” the man begged. “Please!”
“I can only transfer memories from one person to the next.” Mister Stuckey stroked his unkept beard. “You know what? I’m in the mood for a good burger from Elroy’s Pub and Grub?”
“What?”
“Come back tomorrow, and bring me an Elroy’s burger and fries. Then I’ll see what can be done.”
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Shawn is building a following with five novels to his name. He also has numerous shorter works in various publications and anthologies. For a list of publishing credits, and/or to learn more about Shawn’s writing, please go to his website: https://shawnbrinkauthor.wordpress.com/. He can also be found on Twitter at @shawnbrinkauth2 and on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/shawnbrinkauthor1/. Shawn is represented by Liverman Literary Agency and resides in eastern Nebraska, U.S.A.
