Letter From The Editor - Issue 68 - April 2019

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Issue 61
Bare-knuckle Magic
by Michael Ezell
Tomorrow Is Monday
by Jacob A. Boyd
Money in the Tortoise
by J.D. Moyer
Real Estate Listing
by Ari B. Goelman
IGMS Audio
Real Estate Listing
Read by Dave Thompson
InterGalactic Medicine Show Interviews
Bonus Material

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Bare-knuckle Magic
    by Michael Ezell

Bare-knuckle Magic
Artwork by M. Wayne Miller

It's always disheartening to find out someone wants to kill you. Especially when it's over a lousy thousand-dollar fight. Don't get me wrong; to me a grand was a lot of money. It represented half the rent. But to one of the dudes who watched the fights from a private table, a thousand dollars was a bottle of champagne. A cheap bottle.

I got the text about my impending murder while I was on break. Of course I wanted details, but the clocks at work are hexed to shut down cell phone reception at 10:15 sharp. Break's over, bozos, back to work.

Marked for homicide or not, I had bills to pay, so I sat at my Global InsureCo desk like a good lad and answered my line when it rang. I worked Customer Service, one of forty agents arrayed in four semi-circles of ten desks each. Global InsureCo being, well, global, had ten similar rooms on this floor alone. We were an army. A complaint-taking, antacid-chewing, bored-to-tears army.

Tobias Stentz, Customer Service Manager, sat on a dais that gave him a clear view of every workstation. Whenever I looked up, those odd, protuberant eyes of his always seemed to be locked on me. Most likely due to a spell. Management level employees were not allowed to use spells directly on subordinates, but they were allowed to use magic to increase their own personal work efficiency. A guy who wanted to make upper management might buy a spell crafted to let him keep his eyes on all the grubby worker bees at once.

My primary line lit up and I jabbed a finger at it. "Global InsureCo Customer Service, this is Eduardo, how may I help you?"

"You can suck my ass, Eduardo," said a woman's voice. She sounded old, a little raspy on the back end. I pictured my grandmother's evil pack-a-day twin.

"Uh, I beg your pardon?"

"You assholes refuse to pay for the damages to my house and I'm on a fixed pension. How the hell am I supposed to get my roof repaired?" the woman said.

"Ma'am, that doesn't sound like us at all. How long ago was your roof damaged? I admit, it does take a bit of time to receive the actual check."

"I'm not getting a check! Least, that's what you idiots tell me. It's been six months since the bitch down the street put a hex on a storm cloud drifting over my house and--"

"Ah, there's your problem," I said.

"My problem?"

"Our homeowner policies do not cover damages incurred through use of hexes, spells, incantations, or any other action that could be considered and defined as 'magical.'"

"You're telling me in today's world you don't believe in magic?" she said.
"Oh no, Ma'am. We believe it exists. We just don't insure against it," I said.

"Eduardo, you are a real piece of shit."

She hung up before I could mount a defense. I flipped over a piece of paper on my desk and put a tick mark under Piece of Shit. That made twenty-three for the year, taking the lead on my "List of Compliments." Dickhead ran a tight second with nineteen tick marks.

My phone alarm chimed and I shut down my workstation. I'd put in a request to leave two hours early for a doctor's appointment. On a Friday. Which raised Tobias Stentz's considerable eyebrows. Per company policy, Tobias couldn't use a spell on me to see if I really had a doctor's appointment. However, he could slide the written request under a Seer Glass. In this case it didn't matter. Since I had an appointment with my witchdoctor, the paper wouldn't show a lie.

I picked up my hat and shrugged into the jacket of my antique Brooks Brothers suit. All the other men in the office wore the popular style of pullover shirts with fake buttons down the front. No class, man, no class.

I glanced at Tobias and of course found him staring straight at me. He gave me a wink and nodded toward the door. Like he was my buddy and we were getting away with something. Ol' Eduardo "going to the doctor" on Friday afternoon.

I returned the wink so Tobias knew we were indeed old buddies, and then went to find out why someone wanted to kill me.

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