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of primitives and junk, all focused toward a white-clothed, waist-high round table in the middle of the dimly lit room. The table itself was decorated with a tall, white, tapered candle, a sprig of pine and a grotesque figurine of a black, pear-shaped creature with a bloated belly. |
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Beauty, they say, is in the eye of the beholder. To me, the little statue was, in a word, disgusting. Brenda, however, reacted quite differently. She bent over and gazed at the eight-inch-high statuette with what amounted to a degree of reverence. The old woman's eyes watched Brenda intently, and a sinister little smile began to play upon her ugly slash of a mouth. |
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"What is it?" Brenda asked softly. For some reason, I had the feeling B.C. already knew. |
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"Beautiful, ain't it?" the old woman rasped. Even at that, her voice seemed to have somehow softened. She moved in closer to the figure as though it was her mission to protect it from B.C.'s penetrating appraisal. "You are gazing," the old woman raptured, "at the sarcophagus of Sate, Ancient of Ancients." |
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B.C. repeated the pronouncement and looked up at me. Her eyes were glazed, and then suddenly she seemed to regain her composure. "Lovely," she repeated, her voice drifting off again. |
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"Is this a good time to answer our |
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