The Special Device

"Oh my goodness! Ben!" She yelled, a shriek that sounded like fighting cats. The intense smell of lemon fragrance and homemade tacos wafted out of the house with the warm air, and Tom had to suppress a laugh.

Aunt Lisa looked thirty-nine as Tom's dad had indicated, her prime aging face was covered in at least three pounds of makeup, capped off by bright red lipstick covering almost all her lips. Her average body seemed too strong to support the loud burst of excited salutations that came from her lungs as she hugged both Mr. Noland and Tom.

"So good to see you! So glad you made it safe! It's about time for little Tom to see his mom's bestie!"

Tom returned the hug, suddenly feeling very relieved and at home. She was family, after all, and this trip obviously meant the whole world to this lady who lived alone. Despite the hot weather, Tom felt cool on the inside and was looking forward to meeting his mom's best friend, Lisa—though he had to admit, she scared him a little.

"Well, come in, come in!" She said, her teeth sparkling as her face lit up like a giddy clown. "I need to sit these bones down—been walking all week like you wouldn't believe. Take off your jackets." She gestured to the side of the foyer where they put their clothes and bags—then Lisa led them into a small living room where a couple of couches covered in orange velvet beckoned for them to sit. A dusty lamp with beads hanging from its stand sits on a chipped wooden end table. The entire house looked like it had been decorated with props from a really old TV show.

Once they were settled, Aunt Lisa brought in three frigid cans of fruit juice; it tasted like live apple water mixed with melon and some other fruit Tom couldn't get to guess but it cooled Tom very quickly. He leaned back on the soft couch and put his foot up on his knee, eager to see Lisa in action.

"Well, for land's sake, it's a delight to see you boys," she started. "Living up here at the North Pole with nothing but work and a bit of sunlight to keep you company makes a woman grow old quicker than she should. And let me tell you, when you were born before any of your neighbor's grandparents, you can forget having friends over to play pinochie and watch the return of Andy Griffith." Lisa paused, but only long enough to take in a huge gasping breath. "There's this boy that lives down the corner—mean as a snake, I tell you. He came over to shovel my driveway after last year's storm, but he didn't put salt on the sidewalk to melt the ice. The nerve of that young troublemaker. . ."

After coming from the sunny air into a nice, cool house and after a long day of busy travel, Tom felt his eyelids dropping as Aunt Lisa continued to rant about each of her neighbors and their various faults and crimes. He tensed his muscles in an attempt to wake himself up.

   ". . . and Rosa Beckwood down the road—I'm pretty sure she's a spy for the Homeland Security International Espionage and Intelligence Spy Division. Always snooping, asking questions, you know. Just the other day, I was taking my garbage out to the road as she was walking by. Do you know what she said to me?" — Lisa didn't pause long enough for anyone to answer— "She had the nerve to ask me how my health was doing. I tell you right here and now, I bet she wants to set up a sting operation from this house once I'm dead and gone, buried like a sack of dirty clothes in the town dump. And Mr. Chu, up by the corner—did you know he has thirteen children? And every last one of them is the spawn of the devil or my name isn't Lisa Sofia Norway."

And so it went for at least another twenty minutes, Tom finally having to pinch himself to stay awake. His dad seemed pleased as he could be, smiling and nodding the entire time, throwing out a few "Hmmms" and "Uh-huhs" every now and then. Finally, as though she'd exhausted her capacity to use her frail body's vocal cords, Lisa stopped talking and leaned back in her seat.

"Uh, wow," Dad mumbled, caught off guard that Lisa had quit yapping. "Sounds like your life is a lot more interesting than you let on, Lisa. We're sure glad we could come and visit you." He looked over at Tom, raising his eyebrows.

Tom straightened in his seat. "Yeah, I'm really excited I finally got to meet you." He raised his cup as if saluting, and immediately felt like an idiot.

"You boys aren't mocking me, are you?" Lisa asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Never!" Tom and his dad said in unison.

"Good, let's eat some supper." She squirmed in her seat but couldn't move an inch. She already got a waist cramp from sitting so long, maybe in a bad position, but she didn't care. "Thomas, dear boy, be a gentleman and assist your aunt Lisa." She held out her hand.

Tom jumped up and gently helped her stand, then followed her into the cosy kitchen.

A wave of mouth-watering smells bombarded them when they entered, and Tom proceeded to eat the most scrumptious meal he'd had in a long time, which was saying a lot considering how good of a cook his mom was. There were freshly baked rolls soaked in butter, grilled chicken with lemon sauce, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes with chunks of garlic—all of it delicious.

Aunt Lisa talked all the while they ate, covering every topic from her stay in Alsace and why she'd stayed, but Tom barely heard her, enjoying three more helpings of the fantastic dinner.

                                   ~

Davy crept up to the car of his prey, his eyes flickering towards the house of the young woman. He'd watched their shadows leave the front room and head deeper into the house, probably to the kitchen for dinner. The thought made his stomach rumble, and he resolved to leave this place and find something to eat as soon as he'd accomplished his task. Even expert spies like himself had to chow down every once in a while.

He crouched behind the left front tire, making sure the body of the car stayed behind him and the house. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the special device—an oval-shaped metal container, about eight inches long and three inches wide, with a seam wrapped around the middle. On one side of the seam, several buttons and dails poked out. Davy looked at the familiar label on the other side—the label that marked items taken from the Seventh Reality.

manufactured by Tomikins Industries.