The Can't Keep Store

by greywolf73

The doll was watching him, he was sure of it. Every time he moved about the room, he felt its beady eyes upon him. Finally, he got up from his chair, opened up the box it had arrived in, stuffed the hideous doll back inside, closed the flaps and, satisfied, went back to his newspaper.

Ellen hadn’t even wanted to touch it when it first arrived. She had opened the large cardboard box addressed to her with much curiosity and excitement, which soon faded as she pulled back the packing paper from the doll nestled inside.

“Oh my God! It’s so ugly! What child in their right mind would have such a thing?”

She shuddered and thrust the box away from her. Joe laughed at her.

“Maybe Aunt Edna didn’t like you as much as you thought she did.”

“I don’t even know why she would will anything to me. I hardly knew her. The last time I saw her was years ago. I must have been all of eight years old. According to the letter from her lawyer, it is a genuine antique doll, over 100 years old. How did something so hideous survive 100 years? I would have thought it would have been destroyed or “lost” long before now. How could any sane child play with that?”

His wife gestured toward the doll, which lay in its box surrounded by packing peanuts and paper, its arms crossed across its chest. It looked as though it were in a coffin. It was hideous. Small, beady eyes that seem to glare out from the tiny face; a mouth that was apparently smiling but looked more as though it were snarling; wild strands of dirty, blonde hair that hung from a partially bald china head; little, delicate hands with tiny curled fingers that Joe thought looked more like claws than anything else.

Joe found himself shuddering involuntarily. Ellen pulled the doll out of its box, holding it with her fingertips as though it were about to bite her. She dropped it beside the box and left it there.

“Ugh. I don’t even want to touch it. I don’t want it. Maybe we could sell it to an antique dealer or something. People collect dolls - maybe somebody somewhere would actually want that thing.” She wiped her hands across her knees, as if trying to wipe the taint of the doll from her fingers. “I can go in the morning. I bet that big antique store over on Main would be interested.”

Ellen left the doll lying on the kitchen table beside the box and went to the grocery store. Joe found himself alone in the house with it. Alone, except for Muffin, Ellen’s big tabby cat, of course. Even the cat seemed to be giving the kitchen table a wide berth, as if he didn’t want to get too close. Joe knew exactly how the cat felt. At first, he tried to ignore it, calling himself silly, but it seemed to be glaring at him from across the room and he couldn’t stand it anymore.

After he put the doll back into the box, he went out and worked in the yard for a while. When he came back inside for a drink of water, he found the doll beside the box, just as it had been before. He went closer for a better look. It appeared exactly as it had before, lying in the same spot. Ellen hadn’t come home, and there was no one else in the house.

Shaking his head and swallowing his revulsion, he picked up the doll and once again laid it inside the box and closed the flaps. This time, he taped them down with Scotch tape. He then went back out into the yard for a few minutes. When he came back in, the doll was lying beside the box once again, the tape neatly slit along the cracks between the flaps.

“What the hell?” Joe backed away from the kitchen table, a cold sweat starting to break out along the back of his neck. Ellen’s voice behind him made him jump and cry out in surprise. She laughed.

“What’s wrong with you? Help me get the groceries in, will you?”

Joe did not move.

“Joe?” Ellen walked around in front of him and waved her hand in front of his eyes. “Jo-oooe. What’s wrong with you?”

He raised a shaking hand and pointed at the doll. “THAT’S whats wrong. I put it in the box and it got out. Twice.”

Ellen looked at the doll. “What do you mean, it got out? By itself?”

Joe nodded. “Twice. The second time I put tape on the box. It cut it open.”

Ellen stared at him and then burst into laughter. She patted him on the cheek. “Good one, honey. You had me there for a minute.”

She walked past him and back out the door. Joe whirled around and put his hand out to stop her.

‘No, I am serious. I am dead serious. It got out of that fucking box.. All by itself. I swear.”

Ellen gave him another long look. “I think you’ve been out in the sun too long. We’ll put it in the box and put it out in the garage and take it to the antique store first thing in the morning.”

Joe shook his head. “Now. I am taking it now.”

He went back over to the table and stuffed the doll back into the box and headed for the door, only pausing to get his keys off the counter.

“I’ll be back soon as I can. I don’t want this thing in the house.”

“ How do you know the store is still open? It’s 6:00! At least call them first before driving all the way over there. Joe!”

But Joe was already in his car and backing down the driveway, the doll safely tucked away in its box in the back seat.

Ellen was right; the antique store was closed. It wouldn’t reopen until 9 the next morning. Joe had no idea what to do with the doll. He was sure of one thing - he was not taking it back home with him under any circumstances. He looked around and spotted a trash can a few feet away. Joe made a beeline for it. Just before he reached it, he felt an hand on his shoulder. He turned to see a tiny little man peering up at him. The man looked like a miniature Santa Claus, with kindly blue eyes behind wire rimmed glasses, a full white beard, and a multitude of tiny little wrinkles surrounding his eyes and smiling mouth. He couldn’t have been more than five feet tall.

“Pardon me for asking, but does that box contain something that you were trying to sell at the antique store? Because if it does, I may be of some assistance, IF it is something you need to get rid of immediately, of course. “

“Actually, it does and it IS something I would like to get rid of immediately. Are you an antique dealer?”

The little man smiled. “One could say that, yes. I have lots of antiques. My store has been in business for many, many years. My father owned it before me, and his father before him, and his father before him. It’s a family business, you see. What is it that you are trying to sell?”

“Well, it’s a doll, but it’s an ugly one. I wasn’t hoping to get much for it. I just wanted to get rid of it. See, my wife got it today from her aunt whom she hasn’t...”

The little man interrupted him. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I am a very busy man. May I see the doll?”

Joe shrugged. “Sure, but I am warning you, it’s not attractive.”

He opened the box right there on the sidewalk and pulled the doll out amid a flurry of packing peanuts. The little man reached out, quick as lightning, and grabbed it from him.

“Ohhh...” he purred. “She’s beautiful. One of the best examples of her kind I have ever seen.” He stroked the doll’s matted hair almost tenderly. “How much do you want for her?”

“Umm...I hadn’t really given it that much thought. How much are you willing to pay?”

“Oh, she’s a real beauty. Priceless. I could give you $500 for her.”

Joe gasped so loudly, that a couple passing by heard him and gave him a strange look and speeded up. “$500? You will give me $500 for that?”

The little man frowned suddenly. “Of course, if that is not acceptable, perhaps you would like to look elsewhere for a buyer?”

Joe shook his head furiously. “No, no. $500 is fine. Just fine.”

The smile returned to the man’s face. “Good. Good. Now, if you would be so kind as to accompany me back to my store? It’s just around the corner there. “

Joe nodded and followed the little man down the street. They turned off of Main Street into a narrow side alley. As they walked, the buildings became increasingly shabby. A lot of them were boarded up, their tenants long gone. Finally, the little man stopped in front of a large, three-story building that was, for the most part, completely boarded up. The only windows that weren’t boarded up were two on the ground floor. One of the dingy windows had a small sign in the corner that read “The Can’t Keep Store”. The little man opened up the door and went inside, holding the door open for Joe. Joe hesitated for a moment and then ducked inside.

The store was tiny and seemed to fit the little man, who was equally small. It was also very dim and dusty, and Joe sneezed several times at the dust their feet kicked up. There didn’t appear to be any lights on. Joe could see shelves and shelves crowded close together and leaning dangerously under the weight of a lot of stuff.

‘Stuff’ was the best way he could think to describe it. The store’s collection defied description. There seemed to be no order whatsoever. On the shelf nearest him, Joe could see a basketball, a golf club, a rifle, a hair dryer, and what looked like an oxygen tank all crammed together. In front of him was a wheelchair, one of the older ones, with a wicker seat and wooden wheels. Beside that, on the floor were a saddle and bridle. Leaning against the wheelchair on the other side was what looked like a full set of armor, complete with chain mail and a huge sword.

Joe’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa!! I bet that armor is worth a fortune! How old is it?” He ran an appreciative finger across the shoulder of the suit.

The little man looked up from his counter and motioned distractedly. “Yes, yes, that’s one of my oldest pieces. Genuine 16th-century European armor. It costs more than you probably make in a year, my dear boy. Come here; I have some papers for you to sign.”

Joe stepped carefully around piles of things and leaned against the glass counter. The little man tapped his knuckles with his pen.

“Please don’t lean. There are priceless antiques in there. My personal collection.”

Joe glanced down through the glass counter top. Arranged on red velvet were several small objects. A small Derringer pistol, a ring with a hinged cap, an assortment of knives and small daggers, and, strangely, a small length of gold cord.

“What’s that?” Joe asked, pointing to the small piece of cord. “Don’t tell me THAT’S a priceless antique!”

The little man chuckled. “Maybe not to you, but to a collector of such things, like myself, it is. That cord, that very cord was used to strangle King Anurob of Egypt some 3,000 years ago.”

“King Who? I’ve never heard of him. How do you know that’s the real thing anyway? It could be anything - it could be a tie to hold back someone’s draperies or something.”

“I assure you, it’s the real deal. I check my sources very carefully.” He slid a sheaf of papers over to Joe. “Here is where I need you to sign.”

Joe glanced through the pile of papers, which were all covered in small, fine print. The type was so small, in fact, that he had to squint to read. He read the first line, “I, buyer’s name, do hereby give up one, possession here, in exchange for monetary compensation and temporary peace of mind...” “Good grief!” he exclaimed. “Why do you have to have such fine print for this? And what is this about peace of mind?”

“Oh, merely a formality. I do business the old-fashioned way, and I must admit that the contract you hold in your hands is the same contract my great-grandfather used over 100 years ago. We are a little behind the times around here. As for the temporary peace of mind, that’s what I am giving you, isn’t it? Won’t you rest easier knowing this doll is out of your house? And of course it’s temporary - isn’t all peace of mind fleeting and temporary when you get right down to it?” He smiled and held the pen out. Joe reached for it, but the little man hesitated.

“Oh goodness me, I almost forgot to ask. Is this object, this doll, something that you can’t keep? Not something that you just want to get rid of, but something that you genuinely cannot keep in your possession any longer? It must be so, or else the sale is null and void.”

“What do you mean, ‘can’t keep?’ What’s the difference between that and just not wanting?”

“It’s really quite simple. ‘Can’t keep’ is something that you may still want but simply cannot keep. It may be an object that holds bad memories. A lot of things in here are just that. Things that people held onto after their loved ones had passed, like that wheelchair for instance. One of my first acquisitions. I bought it from a woman who was devastated by her husband’s death. The man had been in an accident and confined to that wheelchair for 20 years. She couldn’t bear to keep it, yet, at the same time, couldn’t bear to part with it and not know where it would end up. The reason my business is so successful is that we can give people the assurance that their beloved possessions will be well-taken-care-of and will find good homes. We deal in memories, you might say.”

“Uh, I hate to tell you this, but this doll holds no memories for me. I just simply don’t want...I CAN’T KEEP it in my house any longer. I don’t think that’s what you mean.”

“I see, that situation IS different, but it still falls under the Can’t Keep clause, as you can see here under section 14, parts a, b, and c.” He pointed rapidly to several different spots on the page, but Joe couldn’t even begin to keep up.

The little man handed Joe the pen. “In other words, it is still something you can’t keep. Right? Because you are afraid of it, if I may be so bold?”

Joe’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

The little man smiled his biggest smile yet, revealing two rows of glimmering white teeth. “Does it matter how I know? I have been in business for a long, long time. After a while, it becomes instinct. Of course, if you don’t agree that the doll is something that you can’t keep, then our agreement will be null and void.” He reached for the papers.

Joe clapped his hand down across the page. “No, you’re right. Can’t keep that thing in the house. I just can’t. Where do I sign?”

The little man pointed to the bottom of the page. “Sign here. Then initial here, here annnd...here. That’s it!”

Joe signed quickly and pushed the papers back across the counter. The little man pulled off the bottom sheet and handed it to Joe. “That’s your copy. It’s a done deal! Here’s your $500.” He slid the money across the counter to Joe.

‘Thank you for your patronage. Come back any time; we are open twenty-four hours a day. And remember that we pay well. Even if you think its junk, you might be surprised what you get for it. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure!”

The man gave him a broad smile, and Joe could do nothing but smile stupidly back as he shoved the stack of money into his pocket.

When Joe arrived home, he found Ellen sitting at the kitchen table, crying.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asked, alarmed.

“Oh, Joe. Muffin...he...he...” she blubbered. He couldn’t understand her.

Her cat. Something had happened to her cat.

“He...He got hit....car....didn’t stop...” She laid her head on Joe’s shoulder.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry honey.” He hugged her to him tightly. She murmured something into his shoulder. “What did you say?”

She raised her head. “I said, would you bury him? He’s out in the garage.”

He hugged her again. “Sure. I’ll do it right now.”

He didn’t tell her about the $500. It was not the right time; she was so upset about the cat. He would tell her later.

He dug a hole down at the corner of the yard under the oak tree and went into the garage to wrap the cat’s mangled body in a garbage bag. As he was doing that, Ellen stepped out of the backdoor with something in her hand.

“These too. Bury these with him. I can’t stand to look at them.” She thrust something in his direction, her head turned and her eyes closed so she didn’t have to see Muffin’s shrouded body. She was holding Muffin’s water and food dishes. Joe took them from her.

“Are you sure, honey? Are you sure you don’t want to keep them?”

She shook her head, tears spilling out from under her closed lids. “No. I can’t keep them in the house any more.”

She turned and went back into the house, closing the door softly behind her.

Can’t keep. She said she can’t keep them in the house. Joe hesitated for a moment standing over the cat’s body and then slid the dishes on to the shelf over the washing machine behind the box of detergent.

*** *** ***

The Can’t Keep store wasn’t too hard to find the next morning. Joe walked in and found the little man behind the counter looking much as he had the day before. He looked up at the sound of the door.

“Oh, hello Joe! I thought you might be back and so soon! Have another doll for me?”

“Uh, no, not another doll. This.”

Joe placed a small plastic bag on the counter. The little man opened it and pulled out Muffin’s dishes. He held them to his chest for a moment, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face.

“These are extraordinary! Beautiful! I will give you $1000 for them.”

Joe’s mouth dropped open. “A thousand dollars? For two five-dollar cat dishes? Are you crazy?”

The man looked up at him, his eyes flashing. “No, Joe, I am not crazy. If you don’t like my offer, then you can go elsewhere.”

Joe took a step back, shocked. Something shifted in the old man’s face and he no longer looked remotely like Santa Claus.

The man smiled again, and with obvious effort, composed his face. “I must apologize. I am having a bad day. It’s just that these really are one-of-a-kind. So...so fresh. The emotion is still strong. Again, I extend my offer of $1000. Do you accept?”

“Of course I do! A thousand dollars for cat dishes.” Joe shook his head in disbelief.

“Good! Just let me get your payment.” The little man reached down and brought out yet another pile of money and, without counting, slid it across the counter to Joe.

“How do you know how much is there? You didn’t even count it! Never mind, I don’t think I want to know,” Joe said.

The little man smiled at Joe, once again looking for all the world like a Santa Claus look-alike. Joe turned to leave.

“I’ll be seeing you soon! Remember Joe, we have a contract! And, give my best to your wife.”

Joe stopped in his tracks. “Now wait a minute, this is too weird. What’s going on? How did you know I was married?”

The little man gestured toward’s Joe’s hand. “Your wedding ring, dear boy.”

Joe glanced down. “Oh.”

It wasn’t until he left the store that Joe realized the man had called him Joe. He had never given the man his name. He'd only signed his full name, Joseph, on the paperwork.

A few days later, Ellen met Joe at the door when he came home from work.

“You won’t believe this. The strangest thing happened today. I called Mom and asked her why she hadn’t called me when Aunt Edna died. She didn’t call me because Aunt Edna is apparently still alive and well in St. Louis! She isn’t dead, Joe. So how did I get that doll?”

Joe stared at her. “Are you SURE?”

“Of course I’m sure! My mother wouldn’t lie, Joe.”

“It must have been some sort of strange mix-up at that lawyer’s office, then. Weird.”

“What happened to that doll, anyway? You never told me.”

“Oh, the doll. I sold to the antique store for $100.”

“A hundred dollars? Someone gave you $100 for that ugly thing? Unbelievable.”

Joe said nothing more about it. He didn’t know how to tell Ellen that he had gotten $1500 for an ugly, old doll and two cat dishes. How could he? He would wait and tell her when the time was right.

*** ***

Months rolled by, and Joe had nearly forgotten about the Can’t Keep Store and the strange little man. The only reminder was an old sock with $1400 rolled up inside it in the back of his underwear drawer. He still couldn’t bring himself to tell Ellen.

The phone rang one afternoon when Joe was home alone. He answered and heard a strange, high-pitched static on the other end. He yelled “Hello!” a couple of times and was about to hang up when the line went still. Not dead, just still. A voice, clear and strong, came through the line.

“Joe? How are you, my dear boy!”

Joe nearly dropped the phone. It was him. Mr. Santa Claus.

“What do you want?”

“Why I want nothing more than was stated in our contract. You still owe me three more. Your six months is nearly up.”

“Six months? What the hell are you talking about? Three more what?”

“Three more Can’t Keeps, of course! Your contract stipulates that you are obligated to give me three more. Read it and you will see. Shall I expect you in a few days?”

“You’re crazy! Leave me alone and don’t call here again.”

Joe slammed the phone down. It immediately rang again.

“Joe, don’t make this hard on yourself. I will be blunt. If you do not deliver the goods within three days, I will be forced to begin collection procedures, and I assure you that can be most unpleasant. Have a good day, and, as always, give my best to your dear wife.”

The phone clicked in Joe’s hand and it was only then that he became aware of the loud beeping coming from the phone. It was the beep of a phone left off the hook too long, as if he had been talking to dead air.

Contract. Where was that damn contract? It had been almost 6 months ago, what had he done with it? He ran upstairs and into the bedroom. He shuffled through the pile of receipts and loose change on his dresser where he emptied his pockets out every night. He found it at the bottom of the pile, a folded piece of yellow paper. He pulled it out and unfolded it, struggling to read the tiny print.

“I, do hereby blah, blah, blah...in exchange for monetary compensation and temporary peace of mind...blah blah blah...I also agree to procure 4 more Can’t Keep items over a period of 6 months or less. If I do not do so, then I will be in direct violation of this contract and will, as a result, be in agreement to allow any and all collection procedures that are deemed necessary be carried out against me, up to and including voodoo curses and the summoning of demons from the 5th and 6th pits of Hell. By signing this agreement, I also agree and understand that the first Can’t Keep object exchanged is for promotional value only, and does not count as one of my four agreed upon objects and does fulfill any of my contractual obligations. By signing this contract, I also understand that my eternal soul may be put at risk during any and all collection procedures if I do not meet my contractual obligations. However, I cannot offer my immortal soul as a fulfillment of my contractual obligations, as an immortal soul does not qualify as a “Can’t Keep” object...”’

Joe ripped the paper into a thousand pieces and flushed it down the toilet.

Two days later, Ellen met him at the door again, a look of anger flushing her face. She did not even say hello.

“What the hell is this?” She asked, holding up the sock containing the money. “Where the hell did you get this?”

“Oh no. I was hoping you wouldn’t find that. Let me explain...a few months ago I met this man...”

“Forget it! Don’t explain. If you have to hide $1400 from me, then the reasons why can’t be good ones, Joe.”

She flung the money at him, and ran towards the stairs, sobbing. Joe was right behind her, trying to stop her.

“Wait, Ellen, wait. Please let me explain...Ellen...”

He reached out for her and she knocked his hand away. She started up the stairs and Joe was right behind her.

“Honey, please stop. Listen to me!”

She reached the top of the stairs, and Joe planted himself in front of her before she could go further. “Honey, listen to me...there is a good explanation. I just couldn’t tell you at the time because I didn’t think you would believe me. I was waiting...”

Ellen looked at him, her face red and tear-stained. “Waiting for what? A good excuse?”

She turned away from him and her foot slipped on the top step. She plunged backwards down the entire flight of stairs as Joe watched helplessly, his hand outstretched to her.

*** *** ***

The old man looked up at the sound of the door and smiled widely.

“Oh Joe! I’ve been expecting you! Can’t wait to see the goodies you have brought me this time!”

Without a word, Joe stepped forward and dumped a large garbage bag on to the counter. The contents spilled out across the glass...a crumpled wedding dress, a well-worn toothbrush, and a coffee cup with lipstick stains still along the edge.

“Splendid! Just splendid! What a lovely collection! I can give you at least $10,000 for the lot. What do you say?”

He looked up at Joe who looked back at him with swollen red eyes. Joe looked as if he hadn’t slept for days.

‘My, my, my, Joe. You must be keeping some late hours these days!”

Joe leaned across the counter and grabbed the little man’s shirt collar in one quick motion. He thought he saw a look of fear pass across the old man’s face, but only for a brief moment. Then it was gone.

“I have to know. Did you send that doll? Did you send us that goddamn doll??”

“Of course! That was a one-time-only promotional deal. We sent out about 25,000 of them. It was a very limited offer. We have branched out, you see. We have offices in nearly every city in the US...”

“Did you kill my wife?”

“Oh no, dear boy. YOU did that! You made her fall down the stairs, not I! I simply helped her find the money. What can I say? Business is business. I simply hate collecting. It is such a nasty business. Now let me get you that $10,000.”

Joe let go of him, turned, and walked toward the door.

“Joe! You forgot your payment! Of course, if you would like to work out a deal, I have several options we could discuss. We are running an unadvertised special this week on Reanimation of a Loved One. You could have your wife back for a very low price...one that I am sure you could afford...you could have your wife back today, Joe. Today. She could be waiting for you when you get back home.”

Joe stopped walking and stood with his head down, listening.

“All you have to do is sign on the dotted line. Your immortal soul in exchange for your wife returned safe and sound. Well, almost sound, anyway. And, if you sign now, I will even throw in an extra 50 years of life for you and your wife....Joe? Joe, where are you going?”

Joe walked out the door. The old man smiled to himself and called after him.

“The offer will only stand for the next 2 weeks. After that, I cannot guarantee her condition...I will see you soon, Joe! You’ll be back! Call again! And remember, we’re open twenty-four hours here at The Can’t Keep!”