The Great Lunolium Potiphar

by John R. Mabry, 9th Grade

The sign read:

"Boys! Get your own life-sized replicas of your favorite heros: Jesse James, Moses, Bob Barker, Potiphar, Richard Milhous Nixon, and our line of self-wiping tables and chairs.

ALL heroes are made form the highest grade easy-to-clean linolium! Order yours now and get a Phyllis Diller Plastic earlobe. Order now! Only $11.48!

Replicas Un-Limited
60932 Harverd Drive
Mills, Indiana

Reginold felt a chill run up his spine. To have his very OWN Richard M. Nixon, the last decad's greatest spokesman! Who NOW ran the world's greatest carnival. $11.48 was TOO good. He rushed home and wadded an order form and some bills in an envelope, and mailed it off.

It was but only nine weeks later that a large package arrived....addressed to Reginald.

It was a huge crate, stamped with the company's address.

With excitement he crowbarred it open and...

Potiphar, tall, dark, ugly--Potiphar stared into his eyes. Piercing.

Reginald tossed around in bed, unable to sleep; the figure of Potiphar clouded his senses, his mind. He rose, and strode to the entryway which housed the figure. He held no lamp, yet there was light, from the face of the replica.

It's eyes locked onto his and he spoke: "Hello."

Reginald did not speak but remained staring at the speaking image which moved not his lips.

"I wondered why you ran today."

"Why are you here?"

"You ordered me, did you not?"

"No--I mean yes, I mean I didn't order YOU!"

I see, Reggie. Do me a favor."

"What?"

"Set fire to the house."

"I will not!"

"You will."

"I will." With slow steps he raised a lighter to the curtains. The phone rang. It's incessant ringing brok the trance.

"You are evil."

"I am what, Reggie?"

"You are evil."

"Perhaps."

Reginald lashed out with a fire-grate pocker. It dented an arm.

"And if you demolish me? Will not a heap of plastic be as powerful as an image?"

Reginaldfelt the spark of fear grow into a fire when he walked down the stairs. It was now a blaze.

And Potiphar grew yet stronger.

No light stirred on the walls, no sound but the beating of his heart, his breathing and--the party next door--laughter filled the quiet air, sincere, happy laughter. Reginald struck a match to see Potiphar shudder.

The light rendered him speechless, and the laughing, of course! The laughing! What could evil despize more than happiness? Reginald dropped the match that burned his fingers.

Potiphar spoke, "Don't try it, Reggie, if you do I'll--" he was stopped in mid-sentence by a flipped-on light switch.

The fear drained from Reginald. HE was in control.

He began to giggle, and then he laughted, and laughed. He laughed for hourse, he seemed to laugh, he laughed for the neighbors, he laughed for this stupidness, he laughed at himself, and at the world, he laughed until purple, and he couldn't breath. Then he laughed some more.

He rose, gasping for breath and still he chuckled. Potiphar was no longer there. In his place wa only a figure of Nixon. Potiphar and his evil melted away into the blackness of night, somehow he felt as if it were not Potiphar at all who had been standing there, but he didnt' know who--ony that they are not there now.

He opened the door and stepped out on the porch. "What steed does evil ride when not dwellingg in any one place?" he asked himself. "Perhaps on one called Wind. Perhaps on the wind."

He turned inside once more to see a plastic earlobe hanging loosely on R. M. Nixon's outstretched "V" fingers. Now, perhaps, some sleep.