Acid Test

by Allen Lang

About the Author: My stories back in the 50s, 60s and 70s came out in all the glorious s-f and mystery pulps of those years. Many were anthologized: Speculations, ’73; Purr-fect Crime, ’89,Analog II, ’63, Hitchcock’s A Brief Darkness ‘87 and the 1971 Mystery Writers of America anthology, Murder Most Foul. (This last not to be confused with my friend, Professor David Bevington’s scholarly analysis of Hamlet). Recently a dozen of my one-act plays have been produced by amateur and rejected by professionals.

Excerpt

After a day of scoping colons south-to-north, Julie checked out from the hospital to pick up Annie from the nursery school and take her to shop for supper. She perched the baby on the kiddy-shelf of the cart. She reached into the baby bag to find a peeled carrot for Annie, who licked it once and then tossed it over the side of the cart.

Julie picked up the damp carrot and filed it in the used-diaper bag. As she looked up she saw a flicker of light at the end of the aisle. Annie pointed in that direction. “Ho!” she said.

A white-haired fellow in a black raincoat was pushing along his shopping-cart with his belly. He palmed a purse-size makeup mirror in his right hand, using it to peer under his left arm as a rear-view mirror.

“Nuh,” Annie demanded, holding out her hand.

Julie selected a fresh carrot and handed it to the baby. “Is he signaling someone? Let’s find out, Annie.”

The aisles were jammed, making it easy for Julie to shadow the pudgy mirror-flasher. He stopped beside the bakery display, tucked the mirror under his left arm again, stared into it, and then whirled around to inspect the shoppers behind him. He nodded and then bellied his shopping cart onward.

“What do you think?” Julie asked her baby. “Is our Pudgy Flasher bonkers?” She eased nearer to check out what was in the fellow’s shopping cart. “Looks like the stuff little boys carry up into tree houses,” she whispered. “Pickled pimento loaf, chocolate cupcakes, a jar of grape juice.”

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