Sabrina’s Wish
by Clyde Andrews
Part 1 of 3
L.J.P. is both a physician and a magician with a flair for mathematical formulas. He goes only by his initials in order to protect his name from the dark forces. His occult mission is to shield potential magicians from evil sorcerers who will stop at nothing to bring new recruits under their sway.
L.J.P. paced his lounge, looking out the window every now and again. What he was looking at was his faithful old car parked in the middle of his front lawn. The car was a cause of great worry for him, for in a few short hours he would be going on a first date with the lovely Sabrina. The first time he had been on a date in at least fifteen years. How could he pick up a girl — especially for a first date — in that? She deserved better.
It was Friday afternoon. The sun was only just beginning to find its way to the western horizon and the shadows were still short and sharp, as was to be expected for mid-summer.
He paced some more. How could he part with the old girl though? He shook his head, not able to bring himself to do it.
“What if I just looked,” he said aloud as if trying to convince himself.
He trotted out of the lounge, a new-found sense of determination overtaking him. For he knew if he didn’t do it now he never would.
“Yes, yes,” he added. “I’ll just go look. No harm.”
* * *
L.J.P. pulled his car into the local car-yard. He noticed that the sign above the gate said: Magic Autos. He laughed at that, as he then thought that it would indeed be magic if he found a car he liked amongst all these modern fan-dangled ones.
He stepped out of his vehicle, hesitated, and was about to change his mind and leave when a man dressed in a cheap-looking sports coat — the kind with the different-coloured elbow patches — stepped up to him. A smile bigger than Western Australia was planted firmly on the man’s face.
“What can I do for you?” he said, extending out his arm in the process.
“Well, I was about to... Um, I wanted to look at another car... to buy... for me... to use,” L.J.P. stuttered.
“And not before too soon either,” the man said immediately. “That old car of yours is almost a vintage.”
“It is? Well in that case, dear fellow...”
“I didn’t mean that in a good way, kind sir. A man of your standing should be driving something that speaks volumes about who you are, where you are going, and more importantly, who you are going to take with you.”
L.J.P. looked puzzled. “What am I, where am I going, and who am I taking with me?”
“Exactly,” he smiled. “And a car can say all that and more.”
“It can?” L.J.P. added, now convinced that this salesman was an X-ray machine short of a radiology department.
“What do you think of when I say to you: Aston Martin?”
“I don’t really know,” L.J.P. rubbed his goatee in bafflement.
“James Bond!” the salesman blurted.
“James Bond?”
“Yes, James Bond,” the smiling man grinned, leading L.J.P. to the expensive end of the lot. “Daring, dashing, virile, and above all sexy. Something all men want to be, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so... I’m not really sure... So, from what I understand, you are saying that if I buy an Aston Martin I will suddenly become a fictional character?”
The salesman burst into laughter. “I like your style. No, you’re right, I think you are more a Jaguar kind of man... Yes, sophisticated, refined and distinguished. That’s what you are.”
“Again, from this... you are saying, dear fellow, that I’m a disillusioned chubby old chap that desperately needs a new car.”
“I like you,” the man said. “Here, have a look at this.”
The salesman pointed out a rather magnificent-looking bottle-green Jaguar XJ. Sleek and beautiful, and from what L.J.P. could make out just by looking at it, in remarkably good condition for a second-hand car.
L.J.P. rubbed his chin again.
“Ain’t she a beaut?” the salesman said, interrupting L.J.P.’s train of thought.
“May I take a closer look?” L.J.P. said after a moment’s pause.
“Of course, be my guest. Breathe in the luxury that is this car. It just screams: ‘Buy me and you’ll never regret it’, doesn’t it?”
Now it was true, L.J.P. knew absolutely nothing about cars. But he did have an ace up his sleeve. Before he came out looking for cars he dusted off his old Grimoire that was placed under his bed for safe keeping and searched it for a truth formula for inanimate objects. He remembered using it long ago — when he was a medical student studying criminal medicine for his degree — on a knife that was used to kill a young woman in cold blood. The knife very kindly revealed all and the killer was locked away for life.
L.J.P. decided that it was high time he used that formula again. Lord knows, car salesmen had a reputation for stretching the truth.
L.J.P. wielded his chalk once inside the vehicle. “This won’t take long.”
The car saleman’s smile was wiped from his face. To be replaced by a look of puzzlement at the sight of an elderly gentleman drawing mathematical formulae with chalk on a Jaguar’s beautiful wooden dashboard.
When L.J.P. completed the formula the car coughed through its radio, then said ‘hello’ with a pleasant English accent.
“Tell me your problems, dear Jaguar,” L.J.P. said smoothly to the car, patting it tenderly on its steering wheel.
“I don’t know about you,” it began, “but I don’t have an original part left in my engine bay. It’s a crime, I tell you, old boy, a crime. In fact I’ve seen better days, to be honest.”
L.J.P. grinned. “Why thank you, dear Jaguar. I hope you find someone that will give you the attention that you deserve and restore you to your former glory. I unfortunately am not that chap.” With that L.J.P. rubbed out the formula with the heel of his hand.
The poor car salesman just stood there, mouth agape and eyes wide.
“Do you have anything else I can talk to?” L.J.P. smiled.
* * *
After a couple of hours, L.J.P. found out that the lovely red BMW was actually two cars welded together, the Mercedes had been in more accidents than a crash-test car and had been repaired just as much, and the Ferrari had more plastic putty on its body work than a cosmetic surgeon’s out-patient waiting room.
“I think the name of this place should be changed to spirit motors,” L.J.P. chuckled.
The salesman was now as white as a sheet. In fact L.J.P. had to get him a glass of water at one stage, for he looked like he was going to hurl up his breakfast. “Oh, why... is... that?” he whispered with a voice drained and weak.
“Well, there’s nothing magic about them, as your sign suggests. I’d say they’re past it and deserve to be put to rest, dear fellow.”
“So... you’re not going to buy a car... today?”
“No, I have a better idea, dear fellow. Thank you for helping me make up my mind.” L.J.P. returned to his Corolla. “I’m sorry I was thinking about selling you... it’ll never happen again.”
Four attempted starts of his Corolla later and L.J.P. left in a puff of smoke. The car salesman still standing in the middle of the yard, dumbfounded.
* * *
It was 6 pm, and Sabrina parted her curtains as soon as she heard a car pull up to her house. What she saw delighted her. L.J.P. had pulled into her driveway in a chauffeur-driven stretch limousine. She ran out to greet him, unable to contain her joy.
“Oh, how romantic, L.J.P.”
“Only the best for you, my dear.”
“I did think for a while that you were going to arrive in your usual car,” Sabrina said, giving L.J.P. a hug.
“Why, are you pleased I didn’t?”
“You could arrive on a skateboard and it would be fantastic... But I tell you what: this is just perfect. Oh, thank you, L.J.P., thank you.”
L.J.P. smiled. “I suggest a nice drive around the Yarra before we dine.”
“Sounds divine,” she smiled back at him.
* * *
L.J.P. cracked the bottle of bubbly that was supplied with the limousine.
“I think we should stop by the casino, you know, have a flutter before we eat,” Sabrina said as she accepted her glass from L.J.P.
L.J.P. nodded and picked up the phone. “Driver, to the Crown Casino please.”
They arrived at the casino within half and hour, which was rather good timing L.J.P. thought. The complimentary bottle of champagne had all but been drained.
Walking hand in hand along the board-walk, L.J.P. and Sabrina passed flower shops, boutique clothes stores, and even numerous cafés on the way to the Crown Casino. Just enjoying each other’s company on the way. Laughing and giggling like love-struck teenagers. L.J.P. could not remember the last time he had had so much fun — well, other than showing dark magicians the error of their ways that was. Then again, tonight was the first night in a long while where he did not have to worry about such things. He was with his girl, happy, and not concerned with the world of magic for one night. He hoped this would not turn out to be too good to be true.
They were just about to enter the rather impressive foyer of the casino when a voice from behind them said something that caught L.J.P.’s attention.
“Did you hear that, my dear?”
Sabrina looked to L.J.P. “No, darling, I didn’t.”
The voice then spoke again, but this time they both heard it loud and clear: “You are the heathen beast that ruined us,” the voice said.
This made L.J.P. turn around. Hidden in the dark, between the columns of a men’s hairdresser sat a beggar. He was a pathetic-looking man, hunched over himself and wearing clothes that had never been ironed, let alone washed.
“Why do you say such a thing?” L.J.P. said approaching the man.
Sabrina tightened her grip in his hand. “Be careful.”
“I’ve got to know why he said such a thing. Call me curious, my dear,” he said, “but I promise I will be careful... that’s my every intention.”
“It’s all too late for you, L.J.P.” the beggar said.
“How do you...” L.J.P. cut himself off, for when the man stood up and came into the light L.J.P. recognised him as the dark magician that once referred to himself as the Priest.
“You understand now, I can see it on your face. I had a grand plan, a noble plan... then you had to come along and see an end to it all... But never fear, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
“Of course I understand, dear fellow,” L.J.P. said. “I understand that you are a pathetic man, who is blaming others for your treacherous ways.”
“You know this man?” Sabrina interjected.
“Unfortunately so, my dear. He was the leader of a group that were... well, they were up to no good and we’ll leave it at that, shall we?”
Sabrina looked puzzled by all this, and said: “What did he...”
Before Sabrina could finish her sentence though the Priest charged at her, screaming something incoherent. He grabbed her, knocked L.J.P. over, and disappeared with a whiff of cloud, all in one fluid motion.
L.J.P. was dazed by this sudden attack. “Darn it, darn it, darn it! Why can’t I just have one normal night for a change?” he said to no one in particular but really cross that he had let such a thing happen to his girlfriend. “Is that too much to ask?”
Copyright © 2006 by Clyde Andrews
