Therapy

Lava lamps had fascinated him ever since his childhood.

This was how it happened that he had walked into the shop out of curiosity more than anything. He was a little uncomfortable doing it. After all, he was a professional medical man. Some of the items it sold were definitely rated as adult only and his clinic was adjacent to the shopping centre. He felt sure that not too many people wearing suits would frequent the place. Was he being a prig or a snob? He didn’t know, but he slipped in quietly to get a better look at the range of coloured lamps. Hey! He may even buy one. The shop mainly sold cigarettes, cigarette cases, tobacco, cigars and lighters, but it also carried a large range of fun stuff. Everything from adult board games to saucy wall plaques and mugs with rude slogans on them.

When the man behind the counter asked how he could help, he explained he just wanted to browse. Being told to go right ahead, he wandered down the aisle looking at the great variety of products; many of them he’d not come across before.

He was looking at the selection of lava lamps when the boy came in. He was probably around seven or eight, but not accompanied by a parent. He seemed to be in a hurry. He probably thought he was the only customer in the shop. He obviously knew the shopkeeper, calling him by his name and asking for a packet of twenty reds, whatever they were.

The professional man froze.

It wasn’t the fact that he was a minor, or that he was on his own and asking for cigarettes that gave him a shock. No, it was the fact that the youth had a gravelly, chain-smoking voice. It was a rough and harsh voice of a fifty-year-old woman

He’d never come across a case like it.

After a moment or two he heard the man drop his voice, he said, “Look, I wish you wouldn’t come in here like this… you know, like this!

In the ageing raspy voice, the boy said, “I know, but I’ve got to have my cigs, haven’t I? Besides, you’re the cheapest in town.”

The man said, “Yes, but like this? You realise I could lose my licence for selling cigarettes to a minor. Can’t you get it sorted out?”

The boy said, “I’m trying, believe me!”

At this point, the man, having heard the conversation, inadvertently made a clatter placing a lava lamp back on the shelf, drawing attention to himself. He gave a polite cough and came forward.

“Excuse me,” he said, “I do hope you don’t think I’m being too forward with this, but I happen to be a speech therapist. I have rooms near here. I couldn’t help overhearing and I really think I could help you.”

In the same, deep, woman’s voice, the boy said, “Ah! And you would know all about breaking body-swap spells, would you?”

With that, the boy sneered, slid his payment across the counter, picked up the packet and left the shop, shouting “Jerk!” over his shoulder.

The man in the suit slipped away as quietly as he had entered.