By Lexi Anders
Joshen sipped his coffee and reread today’s newspaper from Take it with a Grain of Salt, New York’s finest.
As usual the kangaroos have escaped for their regular Thursday afternoon outing. Despite police warnings, the zoo refuses to fix the electricity which shortcircuits at this exact interval. Some suggest that it is a way of holding an informal protest of the taxes they are paying, since strikes are now illegal with the advent of the idea tax system. Since it doesn’t appear this problem will be resolved anytime soon, the writer suggests that those who are able stock up on kangaroo repellent or at least check that their vaccinations are up to date.
All stories received and paid for by Joshen Ryden.
He smiled and tossed his cup in the trash. He wondered how many buyers he would have for today’s paper. Over the past week he had gained another customer almost every day, selling them cheap. His customers were glad for that and they enjoyed reading the papers. It didn’t matter so much that the stories were all made up as long as no one asked about it- and who would do that in a time when to request more information came at a fee?
“Paper! Paper! Getcha paper! All you need to know for $25!” He stood on the sidewalk holding out the paper.
Many people looked at the paper enviously, and a few took it nervously, looking around to see who else was watching. The rich scoffed and passed by, or easily pulled out a stack of bills and bought a couple copies.
By the end of the day Joshen had enough money to line his shirt. He was counting this when a man came up to him.
“Hey, got any papes left?”
Joshen glanced up, it was a guy in a Hawaiian tie, shorts and sunglasses. His hair was all fly-aways and he had a wide stance, but he was looking around him suspiciously.
“Sure, man. 25 bucks.”
The man shuffled his feet, “Is it any good?”
“Any good!! By George, it’s the best paper in town!”
“Got credible sources?”
“Golly, you can’t ask a guy that! Read it and find out, I ain’t giving info away for nothing. Who’dya think you are? I’ve got mouths to feed here! And you want the police coming down on me for talking off?? I ain’t no idiot, man. If you wants it, you pays for it. Otherwise, good day to you.” Joshen huffed and turned away as though to leave.
“Hold up now!” the man demanded. “I’m just askin’ a question here. How bout I read just a bit and then I can decide whether I want it.”
“Yeesh, get away from me, I don’t do handouts here. If that’s what you’re searching for, go to the homeless shelter.”
The guy grew angry now and ripped off his sunglasses. “Now, listen here, bub. We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way!”
“Oh please, beat me up and it will be in the paper tomorrow- I’ll be rich for sure then! Go ahead, I dares you!”
“Fine,” the guy reached into his pocket.
Joshen flinched, was he gonna be shot? He had so much to do, so many places to visit and sights to see, adventures he never got to have, he only ever dreamed and wrote about-
“Now what do you think of that!” the guy shoved a slip of paper in his face.
He looked at it. It was a punch card with holes all around the rim, 25 punches exactly. And it said- redeem 1 paper for the price of 25.
“Wow, I never seen one of those before,” he reached into his pocket to take out a camera. His papers would be much more authentic if they had something like this.
“What do you mean you’ve never seen one?? This is from your stand right? It says,” he flipped it around to read the fine print, “Redeemable at Take it with a Grain of Salt only.”
Joshen reached to take the paper and look it over but the guy held it out of reach, “Now, now, you don’t get to see it if I don’t get to get your paper! Terrible advertising, you’re just a con man, aren’t you? You want me to get a detective over here??”
Joshen held up his hands, “Honest, I never seen that paper before, I think someone’s pulling the wool over on you-” or it struck him . . . could this guy be a fellow conman??
“Say . . . did you make that paper yourself?”
The guy’s face turned a little red, “No! What do you take me for, a crook?”
“Hey, I wouldn’t blame you, papes are expensive these days.” he set a hand on the man’s shoulder, which was quickly brushed off. “Take it from me though, it ain’t worth getting yourself in trouble over.”
“Are you going to give me the stinkin’ deal or not??”
Joshen tisked, “Maybe you should write your own papes rather than harassing people-”
“What’s the point in making a paper if you aren’t going to sell it!”
He clapped slowly, “Okay, okay. I applaud your perseverance. You got me. Take the paper.” He handed it over in exchange for the coupon. This conman was really committed to the bit. What an inspiration.
The guy looked over the paper, “Jaw-shan?”
“Pronounced Jo-shen, buddy.” Joshen said.
“Oh, yeah? How do you know?”
“He’s-” he paused, don’t go answering questions all willy-nilly. “Let’s just say I knows.”
“What if I know him and he told me it’s pronounced the other way?”
“I would laugh at you.”
“You’re so confident, huh?”
“Yeah,”
“So you must know him.”
“Sure I do, where do you think I get the papers? He’s my boss. Great guy, hard worker, very creative. Wonderful personality, generous- really, he’s a saint!”
“Yeah, he pays you well?”
“Too well! I don’t deserve him.”
“Do you think he’d hire me?”
Joshen smothered a laugh- “You want a job? Well, I’ll ask him and get back to you. What’s the name?”
“Funnily enough, my name is Jashon.”
“No way! Boy, he’ll get a kick out of that. But that would be confusing . . .”
“And you are?”
“They call me Mark.” he offered his hand. “I guess I can say that much.”
“Yeah, no problem there. Well, let me know. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
The next day Joshen was out on his corner, not really expecting the guy to come back. His newest paper covered the acid rain that fell only on the south part of town- likely because of the factories over there. This was one of the few papers he actually knew something about since he lived over there. He only embellished about the fatalities, though he wouldn’t be surprised if such a thing occured.
Jashon arrived the next day with a wide smile, “Hey, brother, what did your boss say?”
“Hmm, well, you know that new information comes at a price. I’ll tell you whether he can hire you, but it will be $5.”
“Huh, well, it’s a good thing I have a coupon for that.” He pulled out a booklet and flipped through till he found something he showed to Joshen. It was a coupon for a one-time free job information.
“Oh, come on.” he looked at it. “This has to be fake, where would you even get this?”
The guy shrugged, “I can’t tell. Though maybe for a fee I would.”
Joshen smiled at him. Honestly, a guy like this would be nice to work with- though not very trustworthy.
“Fine, fine.” Joshen took the coupon. “I know it’s a bit ridiculous anyway, I’m just trying to follow the rules here.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course. So the thing is, my boss might want to talk with you, but it’s not super safe. You know how it is, people target sources of information these days, he could be held hostage or something! Anyhow, right now isn’t a great time, but maybe if things settled down a bit he would talk with you.”
“Oh . . .” he thought about it and straightened his Hawaiian shirt, “What if I posed as a Detective? No one would come near someone like that and it would keep him safe.”
“How would you do that?”
“I have my ways.” he said mysteriously.
“Prove it and I’ll take you to him.”
He tisked and flipped through his little wallet again and then pulled out a badge. It said Detective Magellan, city approved information investigator.
“Dang,” he reached out.
“Not for civilians,” Jashon winked and quickly squirreled the badge away.
“That’s pretty good man! But you don’t really look the part.” he gestured at his beach clothes.
“Easily fixed.” He set down his briefcase and pulled out a trenchcoat which he swung on and there was a business set of clothes in there too.
“What on earth? Who brings this kind of stuff around with them?”
“Hey, think about it, you can really get some information this way.”
“You’re not wrong.”
Then it hit him- was this guy a real detective? At his stall? He tried to keep his smile on his face as the worries swirled around his head. He had read the paper, how much did he know? How much could he really know? And Joshen could just say no now and tell him nothing more- but then that would be suspicious . . . and really it wouldn’t be long till he had enough money to get out of this dump.
“Well . . . how about it then?”
On the other hand, this guy was definitely doing some illegal stuff himself, and wouldn’t that be a problem if he was a detective? At least he could delay and maybe come up with some sort of test.
“Let me finish selling my papes, huh?”
“Fair enough, brother. I’ll get one today, too.” he offered $25.
Joshen hesitantly traded for his paper. Not like a detective couldn’t get it from somewhere else anyway. That’s what he should think.
Jashon stuck around for a bit reading the paper and then wandered away without saying where he was going- pretty commonplace these days, but- for Joshen- pretty concerning. If he was in trouble there wasn’t much way out of it. Except to book it. But the government didn’t really like people moving around either, since then you learned about other areas and things that were going on elsewhere . . .
The suspected detective came back around supper time in full apparel now. Joshen wished he had more papers on hand to sell. But it seemed like seeing him with the “guy in the trenchcoat” made the papes fly.
“So . . . how about it? Shall we visit him?”
“Sure, sure.” he said and gathered his stuff. “Though I gotta warn you, he’s a busy guy, always out looking for the next big info bust. And the paperwork to make it legal, on top of typing it all up- boy am I glad I don’t deal with that side of things.”
“I bet.”
What a cop wouldn’t do . . . Well, he couldn’t suggest anything illegal ‘cause that would get him into trouble. He had already said some more than he should have.
They wandered the back alleys till they came downtown. The southern part of town was pretty rough. Joshen had grown up there and never really got out. He had a dream once that he would expose everything that was going on and then things would change- but rather than heralding him as a hero for sharing his information free he had been busted and put in juvie.
“Rough part of town.” the maybe detective commented.
“It’s not so bad.” Joshen replied. Well, there were a few nice folks, and a lot more that- weren’t. Anyone there would expose him in a minute too if they thought it would get them paid. So he kept his lips closed and stayed to himself- except for the kids. He liked the kids and most evenings his apartment was full of them coming in and out. Sometimes they gave him ideas for the paper- none of them knew how to read or would ever have enough money to even get one of the newspapers and rat him out.
The kids began following and whispering as they approached.
“Hey, Mark, what’s going on?” one asked him.
“None of your beeswax,” he snapped.
“Oh, come on, he’s a detective right? Are you in trouble?”
“Nah, he’s a friend. But you better not mess with him.” he warned.
“Ok, okay.” they shuffled on.
He didn’t know where else to go now, and the detective probably had his address anyway, so he led him to the apartment he lived in.
When they made it to the apartment he pulled out the key.
He wanted to make an explanation for why he had a key, but he knew he should hold his lips.
They walked in. It was one room, wooden floors. He slept on a couch, his typewriter in the corner. The bathroom was downstairs shared by everybody.
“Joshen!” he called out, and peered around. “Sorry man, he’s not here right now. Probably still researching.”
“I can wait.” the detective said and sat on the couch.
“Erh,” Joshen fidgeted, nobody would like a stranger waiting in their home, would they? And if the detective was left to search around, he might find something he shouldn’t. “Can I get you some tea or something?”
“That’s fine, I’m alright. I’ll just prepare for the interview.” He pulled out some flashcards and began flipping through them.
“Ah, okay . . .” What was he going to do . . . maybe he should run outside and get someone else to pretend to be him? Or he would give up eventually, right? If it got really late and Joshen said it was time to leave?
“I’m really sorry, man. I told him you might be coming today . . . I’m sure he got held up somewhere . . . or he forgot. He can get really excited in his investigations . . .”
“I’m sure.” he didn’t look up.
Joshen got out some tea and put on a pot and got some crackers. A knock came on the door. He cracked it open a bit, there were a couple neighborhood kids.
“Hey Mark, you got anything to eat?”
He sighed, “Well . . . there’s someone else here right now . . .”
“It’s fine,” Jashon said, “You can let your guests in.”
“Well, Joshen’s, yeah. He’s pretty generous, like I said.”
The kids muttered to themselves. Joshen was what they called the hypothetical character who got into all sorts of trouble in the stories they made up. They didn’t know it was Mark’s first name.
“We can just grab something and go?” they suggested. “Or come back later. When Joshen is here.” they snickered.
“Oh, don’t bother.” he shook his head. “It may be late.”
“Fine, but come on, man, we’re starving.”
He finally agreed and they began crawling around in the kitchen tearing through the cabinets, making food on the stove and bickering as one ate the cheese another planned to put on a sandwich. Joshen was one of the few people in the building who could pay the gas bill to use the stove, so they would often bring stuff just to cook. All of the people crawling around meant he had to lock his money in a safe and hide it under the floorboard under the couch. He wouldn’t be able to do that until late today.
They bothered him about this and that and would have told him what went on in the neighborhood today, except he hushed them because of his guest. They understood and shot the detective some dirty looks. Finally he fussed at them and they got out, hands and mouths full of food.
“Sorry about that,” Joshen felt very tired all of the sudden and a little sad. He wished he could have talked to them more, and was at the same time glad for a break from them. He knew a lot of them were staying with friends and away from their parents and going through all sorts of crazy stuff, he often felt he had to be a big brother like he never had.
“It’s sweet of you to look after them.” Jashon said warmly.
“Well, Joshen more than me.” he said and sat down on the couch too.
“Oh, I forgot,” he got up again and grabbed the tea and had to find some more crackers.
“Here you go.” he set it on the stand by the couch.
“Thanks,” the detective sipped his tea and looked at him. “So, if you’d like I can give you this coupon.” he pulled out another slip, it said personal life dump coupon. “You could tell me about yourself.”
“Hah, and what? Get thrown in jail? Or pass up a great opportunity for cash? I don’t think so.”
“I’ve got two coupons. So I can tell you about me, first.”
Joshen beckoned him to continue, not really believing he’d tell the truth anyway, one way or another this man was a liar.
“I grew up in this part of town too. I lived down Crawford Lane, a rickety old house that I believe fell down last year in a storm. My parents were used to the way things were before and didn’t vet information even as things were more strictly enforced. I remember telling them to hush and even plugging my ears sometimes- but I also remember sneaking around and eavesdropping, my ear against the wall to hear things. I always loved discovery and learning about new things. I decided that when I grew up I wanted to be an investigator and legally do what I loved to do.”
And by investigator, he could mean journalist or detective. But so much for legal.
“Real story?” he asked.
“Of course. I don’t lie.”
“Sir, I have a hard time trusting people, I guess that’s the world we live in. But some people trust a lot more than others,” he thought about all those who bought into his paper and believed its words without question. Or maybe they didn’t believe it either, maybe they just thought it was funny. If that weren’t double taxed for being an original idea he would have gone ahead and written explicitly invented stories.
“Some people do trust more. I wish I could be more like that.” Jashon said. “I guess I’ve seen too much trickery and heartache.”
“Yeah,” Joshen agreed. “And,” he lowered his voice. “This is only an opinion, okay? Not information. I don’t think the new laws have helped with it. I think it makes it harder for people to tell the truth. Because we can’t speak at all.”
“Maybe that’s what you ought to write about.” Jashon suggested.
He shook his head, and noticed a dangerous implication behind the words, “I don’t even write, that’s Joshen’s job.”
“Right, but you haven’t ever written anything? I’m a writer, you know. I’m pretty prolific.” He pulled out a notebook, full of scrawling cursive handwriting. It looked very orderly and had pages with lists scratched off and diagrams and sketches and Joshen didn’t know what any of it meant.
“Wow, that looks cool. I don’t have the time for that sort of thing though, and it’s too expensive for me.”
“I’d lend you a book and if you don’t share it you don’t have to pay.” he dug out an empty notebook, “Just a little a day can add up quick.”
He took it and turned it over. It was a very nice little dark blue booklet. He had never been given a gift like it before. “Thank you, sir.” he said, touched. “That’s awfully nice.”
“No problem. Well, I guess he’s not showing up, huh? I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Joshen walked him out of the neighborhood and then turned back and went to bed. He dreamt of filling the pages and then leaving the notebook behind for someone to find after he left and ran away. If just one person read it before it was thrown away- or maybe it could even pass many hands undercover.
Detective Magellan arrived at his stand the next morning and bought the paper. It made him nervous. He stood in front of Joshen reading it.
“Funny, you always have something so different from the other papers . . . and from what I’ve seen.”
“Huh, I guess we have some creative sources.”
“Guess so.” he smiled, “I only wish I could join you and see. Maybe if your boss won’t hire me I could redeem my ‘shadow someone for a day’ coupon.”
“Yeesh, man, you should stop using those things. You’ll get yourself in trouble.”
“They’re legal,” he said.
“Right . . . are you really a detective, sir?”
“A detective? Goodness, was my outfit really that convincing?”
Joshen smiled, he hadn’t answered the question. “Ah, but you wouldn’t tell me if you were a detective.”
“No, of course not. Seriously, what sort of a detective would bother to work for you-r boss?”
“Right . . . Umm, so why did you come at this time of day? You realize I have to finish selling my papers again.”
“Well, maybe between you and me I could just take some of the papers and help you sell them.”
“Without payment?”
“As proof to your boss that I can work.”
“He’d fire me on the spot for being irresponsible.” He shook his head, “Nice as he is, it doesn’t do well to have legal threats.”
The detective conceded and finally left. Joshen began sweating. He needed to get out of here. He moved to some other areas he didn’t normally sport and sold his papers as quickly as possible today, though he gave them to a couple people he had seen taking other papers which was more of a risk. And then he ran to the store and went back home.
He put the groceries away and typed a note out a little apology and offered for the kids to eat what they wanted.
He put his typewriter in the dufflebag along with his money and shoved whatever clothes and nicknacks needed in his backpack with some food.
Could he actually make it out? Well, no one around should really think there was a reason for him to leave.
He heard a knock on the door and his heart froze.
“Joshen,” a voice called. It was the detective. Shoot. He went to the window and opened it slowly.
“I know you’re in there. Let’s just talk.”
The window creaked and he hastily clambered out.
The detective opened the door as Joshen scooted out of view. He dropped his backpack to the ground, swung the duffel bag’s one good strap over his shoulder and climbed down the ladder as quickly as he could. The bag was uncomfortable but he didn’t really notice it in his hurry
“Hold up!” The detective ordered and started after him.
“Leave me be, man. I’m just running an errand. Joshen will be back later.”
The detective ignored him. Joshen looked down and dropped the rest of the way, landing awkwardly. He nursed his leg a bit and pulled his backpack unevenly over the other bag as he scrambled away.
The detective made it to the ground as Joshen was rounding a corner. He saw another ladder and jumped for it. He pulled himself up and now he could really feel how heavy his bags were together. The typewriter dug into his back and he wondered now if he shouldn’t have given it up, but what time did he have to pull it out. The detective came around, but didn’t follow up the ladder, instead going on- had he not seen Joshen?
He got to the top of the building and the ladder sort of ended just a bit short. He pulled off his backpack and threw it over and then set the other one just on the ledge, but as he began to pull himself up two hands grabbed his.
He jerked back, throwing the duffel bag behind him on accident and he dangled over the edge held just by the hand that grasped him for a moment as he searched desperately for his footing and to get his other hand back up.
The detective helped pull him up and he fell over the ledge breathing shakily.
“Now, was that really necessary?” the detective shook his head.
He looked at his backpack out of reach and turned to look down at the duffel bag below- it had definitely split a hole, he could see some money loose now- and the typewriter was likely broken. He had to get down before anyone came around and took everything-
“Where do you think you’re going?” the detective yanked him back from the ledge.
“Everything I have is in that bag- I have to get it.” he pleaded.
“Maybe you should have thought of that before breaking the law.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t done the same!”
“I only use the legal allowances I’m given.”
“Please- you can take me in or whatever- but don’t let the vultures get it- it’s not fair.”
“You know what else isn’t fair- people paying good money and being lied to about the product.”
“I never claimed it was true!”
“You sold it like it was though.”
“We could be friends, you know, we’re not so different. Maybe I could give back the money and be a detective with you- let me go get it.”
“Not so fast, why the obsession with the money if you can’t keep it?”
He wished now he had some sort of weapon- but then again maybe he could overpower him just with his bare hands-
Before he got too far in this thought he was being twisted around now and felt one handcuff go on and freaked out- “Let go, let go, let go of me!” he flailed his arms, got in a crouch, stomped his feet, jerked his head back and at some point managed to spin around and punch the detective.
“You shouldn’t have done that, kid.” the detective said, darkly.
He hesitated. “Just stay away from me. Please. All I want is a quiet life.”
“A quiet life of crime.”
He put one leg on the ledge, watching the detective and then slipped down quickly. The detective disappeared again- there must have been some stairs faster or something, but luckily enough he wasn’t carrying anything. The one handcuff jangled against the staircase as he descended and the rusty metal rubbed into his hands.
Joshen touched ground and threw the typewriter out and then ran with the bag in his arms since it still had a hole. He sprinted towards the highway and jumped over the fence, standing on the edge of the busy intersection. The detective came up behind him, a little further down the highway. He dashed out in a tiny gap and made it to the half-way point. The detective was on the first section and then started running- Joshen looked for an opening in the second section- but it was too busy.
A police car came to a stop on the side they were just on. And the detective began scooting down towards where Joshen stood. Joshen sprinted across now.
On the other side he glanced back briefly and saw the detective now rushing across, hot on his trail. But the detective didn’t see a car merging up, it honked and slammed on the brakes. Joshen called out a warning and in a panic threw his bag at the oncoming car, sending money flying everywhere. It swerved and bumped another car and they skidded next to each other a little ways. Other cars also slammed their breaks behind them and came to a halt, but it didn’t look like anything was too bad. It would be an interesting story to write down if he had the time though.
The detective stood there, dumbfounded for a moment. Then Joshen turned around and ran into another police officer. “Uh, excuse me sir, I’ll get a doctor.”
“Not so fast-” the police officer yanked the handcuff dangling from his arm. “This one yours, Magellan?”
Magellan numbly nodded and stepped forward.
“Careful where you put things.”
Magellan finished handcuffing Joshen and then they stood there a moment, looking at the crash. The people were getting out slowly and it didn’t look like anyone was seriously hurt.
“I’m sorry.” Joshen said.
“Kid, you had to get yourself in bigger trouble, didn’t you?”
He felt a pool in his stomach and hung his head.
“Well, let’s get you back to the station.” he sighed and they began to walk along the side of the road.
At least he felt like he had earned his arrest now. Not that that was a good thing.
Octopencil 