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(Page 2 of 8) Numismatist's Collection of Non-Monetary Portals by Kerem ISIK
"Toy cop" the numismatist used to call him making me wonder how a dainty individual like him had hired Stahl in the first place. Stahl was also cross-eyed, the only plausible explanation for the unapparent bond the two shared.
Stahl's daytime chores were feeding the two Dobermans free to wonder about a garden Babylon would be envious of encompassing two swimming pools, never used, a tennis court, never used, and a gazebo curtained with bullfrog green poison ivy, occasionally used.
Which brings us to the rightly nicknamed Herbaliser, Mr. Stim. The nine-acre garden was Stim's territory. He lived in a small wooden shack on the outskirts of the chateau making him the luckiest employee. Days, sometimes even weeks would pass by without Stim even seeing the numismatist. Strolling around the garden he would check on countless specimens of herbs neatly planted across the entire circumference of the garden. Every now and then he would huff and puff his way up to the living quarters with an odd looking specimen in his soil colored hands.
"I cross pollinated oregano with dills." A nerve-wrecking chuckle would follow any news about his pollination experiments apparently waiting for remarks of encouragement.
"I'll name it Stimus Oredillus." Another chuckle.
He would also insist on Emma to use his cutting-edge herbs in that particular night's dish, to which Emma would sometimes reply:
"Oh sure Stim, I would love to."
As any sane individual can imagine the chateau of the numismatist is not a place for the faint of heart. Apart from all the oddball vagabonds one can see a vastly differing array of employees each week. Even though I have been living here for almost two years now the non-frequent bumps into an individual I haven't met yet still comes as a not so pleasant surprise. It's amazing how a chateau of 100 rooms can eat up and regurgitate people at will.
One can wonder about my very self. Yes, I can tell you all about myself, which would not be that interesting or that long. My name is Lhimkid, Lhimkid Lazarus. At a stunning 5 foot 4 inches, I wouldn't be the first person you would notice in a crowd unless I happened to be surrounded by a marching band of dwarfs. The only occasion my height actually comes in handy is for hiding my malnourished torso. Unfortunately scallions and scallops do not top my list of favorite foods. My well-kept hair and trimmed moustache are the only distinctive traits on an otherwise generic face. I have been working as a nurse and daily helper for the numismatist for, as I said, almost two years now.
It is definitely not an exciting job. My days start very early, almost before sunrise. Since my room is two doors down from the numismatist's the first thing I do – even before washing my face – happens to be to wake him up.
Throughout the 43 years of my life – the brief time span encompassing my whole life before moving in to the chateau – I thought of old people as incurable insomniacs, for anyone who wakes before the sun does however early he or she happens to have slept the previous night rightfully earned the title of insomniac.
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