John Collier - Fancies and Goodnights

John Colliers edgy, sardonic tales are works of rarewit, curious insight, and scary implication. They stand out as oneof the pinnacles in the critically neglected but perenniallypopular tradition of weird writing that includes E.T.A. Hoffmannand Charles Dickens as well as more recent masters like Jorge LuisBorges and Roald Dahl. With a cast of characters that ranges fromman-eating flora to disgruntled devils and suburban salarymen (notthat its always easy to tell one from another),Colliers dazzling stories explore the implacable logic oflunacy, revealing a surreal landscape whose unstable surface isdepth-charged with surprise.

Some of the stories in this book have been printed in The NewYorker, Harpers Bazaar, The Atlantic Monthly, Esquire, andHarpers Magazine; some of them have previously been gatheredinto a volume called Presenting Moonshine (published by the VikingPress, New York, 1941), and a volume called The Devil and All(published by the Nonesuch Press, London, 1934). WitchsMoney was published as a separate volume, for private distribution,in December 1940. The Touch of Nutmeg, copyright, 1943, by TheReaders Club. Gavin OLeary, copyright, 1945,by H. Allen Smith

Franklin Fletcher dreamed of luxury in the form of tiger-skinsand beautiful women. He was prepared, at a pinch, to forgo thetiger-skins. Unfortunately the beautiful women seemed equally rareand inaccessible. At his office and at his boarding-house the girlswere mere mice, or cattish, or kittenish, or had insufficientlyread the advertisements. He met no others. At thirty-five he gaveup, and decided he must console himself with a hobby, which is avery miserable second-best.

He prowled about in odd corners of the town, looking in at thewindows of antique dealers and junk-shops, wondering what on earthhe might collect. He came upon a poor shop, in a poor alley, inwhose dusty window stood a single object: it was a full-rigged shipin a bottle. Feeling rather like that himself, he decided to go inand ask the price.

The shop was small and bare. Some shabby racks were ranged aboutthe walls, and these racks bore a large number of bottles, of everyshape and size, containing a variety of objects which wereinteresting only because they were in bottles. While Franklin stilllooked about, a little door opened, and out shuffled theproprietor, a wizened old man in a smoking-cap, who seemed mildlysurprised and mildly pleased to have a customer.

He showed Franklin bouquets, and birds of paradise, and theBattle of Gettysburg, and miniature Japanese gardens, and even ashrunken human head, all stoppered up in bottles. Andwhat, said Frank, are those, down there on the bottomshelf?

They are not much to look at, said the old man.A lot of people think they are all nonsense. Personally, Ilike them.

He lugged out a few specimens from their dusty obscurity. Oneseemed to have nothing but a little dried-up fly in it, otherscontained what might have been horse-hairs or straws, or mere wispsof heaven knows what; some appeared to be filled with grey oropalescent smoke. They are, said the old man,various sorts of genii, jinns, sybils, demons, and suchthings. Some of them, I believe, are much harder, even than afull-rigged ship, to get into a bottle.

Oh, but come! This is New York, said Frank.

All the more reason, said the old man, toexpect the most extraordinary jinns in bottles. Ill showyou. Wait a moment. The stopper is a little stiff.

You mean theres one in there? said Frank.And youre going to let it out?

Why not? replied the old man, desisting in hisefforts, and holding the bottle up to the light. ThisoneGood heavens! Why not, indeed! My eyes are gettingweak. I very nearly undid the wrong bottle. A very ugly customer,that one! Dear me! Its just as well I didnt get thatstopper undone. Id better put him right back in the rack. Imust remember hes in the lower right-hand corner. Illstick a label on him one of these days. Heres something moreharmless.

Whats in that? said Frank.

Supposed to be the most beautiful girl in theworld, said the old man. All right, if you like thatsort of thing. Myself, Ive never troubled to undo her.Ill find something more interesting.

Well, from a scientific point of view, said Frank,I

Science isnt everything, said the old man.Look at this. He held up one which contained a tiny,mummified, insect-looking object, just visible through the grime.Put your ear to it, he said.

Frank did so. He heard, in a sort of whistling nothing of avoice, the words, Louisiana Lad, Saratoga, four-fifteen.Louisiana Lad, Saratoga, four-fifteen, repeated over andover again.

What on earth is that? said he.

That, said the old man, is the originalCumaean Sibyl. Very interesting. Shes taken upracing.

Very interesting, said Frank. All the same,Id just like to see that other. I adore beauty.

A bit of an artist, eh? said the old man.Believe me, what you really want is a good, all-around,serviceable type. Heres one, for example. I recommend thislittle fellow from personal experience. Hes practical. Hecan fix you anything.

Well, if thats so, said Frank, whyhavent you got a palace, tiger-skins, and allthat?

I had all that, said the old man. And hefixed it. Yes, this was my first bottle. All the rest came fromhim. First of all I had a palace, pictures, marbles, slaves. And,as you say, tiger-skins. I had him put Cleopatra on one ofthem.

What was she like? cried Frank.

All right, said old man, if you like thatsort of thing. I got bored with it. I thought to myself,What Id like, really, is a little shop, with allsorts of things in bottles. So I had him fix it. He got methe sibyl. He got me the ferocious fellow there. In fact, he got meall of them.

And now hes in there? said Frank.

Yes. Hes in there, said the old man.Listen to him.

Frank put his ear to the bottle. He heard, uttered in the mostplaintive tones, Let me out. Do let me out. Please let meout. Ill do anything. Let me out. Im harmless. Pleaselet me out. Just for a little while. Do let me out. Ill doanything. Please

Frank looked at the old man. Hes there allright, he said. Hes there.

Of course hes there, said the old man.I wouldnt sell you an empty bottle. What do you takeme for? In fact, I wouldnt sell this one at all, forsentimental reasons, only Ive had the shop a good many yearsnow, and youre my first customer.

Frank put his ear to the bottle again. Let me out. Let meout. Oh, please let me out. Ill

My God! said Frank uneasily. Does he go onlike that all the time?

Very probably, said the old man. Icant say I listen. I prefer the radio.

It seems rather tough on him, said Franksympathetically.

Maybe, said the old man. They dontseem to like bottles. Personally, I do. They fascinate me. Forexample, I

Tell me, said Frank. Is he reallyharmless?

Oh, yes, said the old man. Bless you, yes.Some say theyre trickyeastern blood and allthatI never found him so. I used to let him out; heddo his stuff, then back hed go again. I must say, hesvery efficient.

He could get me anything?

Absolutely anything.

And how much do you want for him? said Frank.

Oh I dont know, said the old man.Ten million dollars, perhaps.

I say! I havent got that. Still, if hes asgood as you say, maybe I could work it off on the hire purchasesystem.

Dont worry. Well say five dollars instead.Ive got all I want, really. Shall I wrap him up for you?

Frank paid over his five dollars, and hurried home with theprecious bottle, terrified of breaking it. As soon as he was in hisroom he pulled out the stopper. Out flowed a prodigious quantity ofgreasy smoke, which immediately solidified into the figure of agross and fleshy Oriental, six feet six in height, with rolls offat, a hook nose, a wicked white to his eye, vast double chins,altogether like a film-producer, only larger. Frank, strivingdesperately for something to say, ordered shashlik, kebabs, andTurkish delight. These were immediately forthcoming.