Another Satisfied Customer       by: Maggie Finson

 

Mamma Juju glanced up from her current cauldron of nearly bubbling potion as the bell over her front door jangled to announce someone entering her shop from the street. "Now I ask you," Mama Juju glared at the ceiling as if speaking to someone hiding within the shadows and cobwebs. "How am I supposed to get to the ‘toil and trouble’ part if I can’t even get the damned thing to boil?" The ceiling wisely remained silent in response to the rhetorical question as Mama sighed, and moved her lithe, chocolate brown body off the stool she had been seated on while watching the cauldron and muttering, "All right, you. I’m not watching any longer. Go ahead and boil, just don’t ruin the carpet this time when you decide to, ok?" The cauldron burbled in somewhat annoyed acknowledgement, but steadfastly refused to boil while Mama was watching. As the short, petite, black woman lightly stepped to the curtain between her work room and the store area on the first floor of her three level apartment, the large black pot on the stove joyfully began to burble preparatory to boiling. "Can I help you?" Mama questioned the tall, buxom and angelically beautiful young woman standing impatiently at the counter.

"Yes, I have a complaint about the spell you sold me." "Spell..." Mama narrowed her large brown eyes to check the woman’s aura, then nodded with a grin. "It seems to have worked just fine, Mr. Clark. You’re a very beautiful young woman."

"Oh it worked, all right," Justine, formerly Justin, Clark nodded her perfect head causing the long fall of shining black hair reaching her shapely bottom to tremble most delightfully. "I’m gorgeous, but there seem to be a few glitches in things." "Indeed?" Mama questioned with a lift of one lovely eyebrow, once again cursing the fates that had both given her such stupendous magical talents and a form that was about as far from a black Juju mistress as imagination could produce. It often made dealing with customers difficult as they were far more inclined to argue with a young, petite, pretty female than they would have been with an overweight, black Mama leering down at them from about six feet in height. "It appears as if everything went quite satisfactorily. You are absolutely stunning, my dear."

"Yeah, yeah," Justine grimaced, tapping one delicate high heeled foot in frustration. "Except the part about my being a real sexpot."

Reaching into her genuine leather purse to withdraw a plastic baggie filled with hand rolled cigarettes - very fat, hand rolled cigarettes - the young woman grumbled. "The spirits you called must have gotten confused. They thought I wanted to be a potHEAD, because these were scattered all over my apartment when I woke up. The butts, roaches, whatever they call the used up joints these days, scattered around all had my shade of lipstick on them, too." "Umm," Mama nodded judiciously, then offered a weak grin. "Are you wanting to smoke one now? It looks like the spirits provided you with some pretty good shit there."

"Help yourself," Justine held out the baggie. "No matter how many are taken, there are always at least twenty in the bag when it’s over with. I have a never ending stash here." "Of course, it’s going to be hard to raise my kids from inside a jail cell."

"Kids?" Mama raised one eyebrow inquiringly.

"I’ll get to that part later." Justine promised. "And you’re complaining?" Mama asked with surprise in her voice while deftly removing half of the twenty joints from the bag and handing the baggie back over the counter while idly noting that there were twenty joints there again.

"Do you know how bad I get the munchies?!" Justine griped.

"Now that I have this body, I have to keep it in shape, you know." "Oh, never mind," she sighed while placing the baggie back in her purse. "They do calm me down when it’s time to go to work, which brings up complaint number two."

"Ah yes," Mama nodded with half closed eyes as the rich, heady smoke filled her lungs, then beelined for her brain with a sign reading High as a Kite in its little hands. "The job. You asked for one that would make good money and have people looking up to you as I recall."

"That’s right," the woman widened her large sky blue eyes at the amount of smoke Mama managed to take in with one long toke on the joint. "But I’m a STRIPPER!"

"I believe that is called ‘Exotic Dancer in this politically correct age," Mama replied equably, amazed at the rush she was getting out of just half a joint and deciding the spirits had outdone themselves on this one. "The pay is very good, the tips are better, and the customers always look up when you’re on stage. Okay, maybe the hours suck a little, but there are compensations, too. So why the complaint?"

"I was a systems analyst!" Justine retorted in frustration. "Now, I’m usually too zonked to do more than hope Windows works okay this time around when I start my computer." "You were one stressed out dude when you first came in here," Mama pointed out. "Other than your complaints, do you feel stressed out now? I believe that was part of the deal wasn’t it?" "Anyone who could stay stressed out with this stuff just lying around for the picking up - and smoking - " Justine lit one herself, deciding that it was pretty good shit for abut the eighth time since her successful transformation, and giggled, "would have to be having a heart attack during a playoff game between the two top college teams in the country to see who was really number one, and had bet the house on the team that was losing!"

"Hokay, so we took care of the stress, you have a great job even if the hours aren’t so good, and you just brim with sex appeal even without the added incentive of this wondrous weed," Mama counted off points on one hand since the other was busy lighting up another joint. "So what else was wrong?"

"I wanted a loving family, and a good education with proof I had it."

"And?" Mama raised an eyebrow without prodding. "I’m married to a really great guy, good looking, too, who can’t keep his hands off me when I’m home." "Fine, you have a marginal sex maniac for a husband. Normal man. What’s the gripe about family?"

"Andrew is soo loving that we’ve had three children already. Do you have any idea of how hard it is to get any sleep at all, with three children running through the house screaming ‘Mommy, Mommy! all the time?"

"Your family loves you and needs you," Mama shrugged with a grin. "What more could you ask for?"

"Not being so drugged that my kids will grow up to become evangelical Christian Republicans in revenge for my neglect would be kind of nice. All right, all right," Justine closed her lambent eyes for a moment to regain her composure. "I’ll concede that one to you, too. But this. This is entirely too much!" Mama gave the eight by ten piece of parchment thrust under her delicate nose a look, then nodded. "A perfectly legitimate certificate of completion - with honors."

"From Betty’s Beautician Boutique?" Justine almost screamed. "I had a Masters in computer science, now I’ve got a diploma from some fly by night beauticians’ school!"

"Oh, no, Mama demurred. "Betty’s Beautician Boutique is one of the best beauty schools in the country. Betty’s alumni cater to the rich and famous all the time, and are in constant demand for their skills. You have a real gold mine there if you ever decide to give up stri... exotic dancing, dear."

"Does anyone ever win an argument with you?" Justine let out a small sigh, then grinned. "Ever?"

"My cauldron does it all the time," Mama confided, then grinned back. "But that’s about the only one I can think of off hand." "So happy you cleared that up," Justine shook her head and winced as her 38DD’s took up and amplified the motion. "So it seems that you did satisfy all the clauses in our contract, right?" "Correct, dear," Mama agreed with a wide smile. "That’s why I have my guarantee posted over the front door." "Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong." Justine spoke the words tiredly. "So I can’t get my money back, or have the spell reversed, right?"

"No one said that," Mama denied, then gave her customer a calculating look. "We could fill out another contract, you could pay me again, up front cash like before, and I’d be very pleased to plead your case to the spirits again."

"Never mind," Justine sighed. "I think I’d better quit while I’m ahead."

"Wise of you young lady," Mama agreed, then brightened, "but remember, that if you should decide to try it again..." "I know, I know," Justine giggled again, ‘Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong."

"Absolutely!" Mama called at the retreating back of yet another satisfied customer.

"Except for this damned cauldron," Mama griped as her delicate little foot squished on wet carpet from the boiled over potion.

Making her careful way to the stove and the large pot that she could swear was giggling at her she threatened, "You could be replaced, you know."

 

END

 

 

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© 2001 by Maggie Finson. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.