Case of Imagination Read Online Free PDF

the comics section, checking out the latest “Spiderman,” “Black Orchid,” and “Anthrax Monthly.” Another customer collected his weekly supply of tabloids. A woman and a small boy selected a birthday present from the children’s books.
    Georgia Taylor, a slim woman who looks to be in her sixties, checked the display of best sellers in the front window, keeping her eye on a big ugly man in the classics section. He wore a cape over his gray suit, so I figured he must have been in the parade. The man gave me a brief nod and strode up to the counter, the cape swirling behind him. His domed forehead sloped back into a tangle of wild gray curls that wobbled as he gestured. His prominent teeth flashed.
    “A word with you, Hayden, if you please!”
    The man behind the counter was a very nice-looking young man, about Jerry’s size, with dark brown hair and blue-green eyes. “What is it this time, Prill?”
    Prill tossed his curls. “How can you continue to ignore the contributions of the Futuristic Literary and Universal Feelings group? We are the mainstay of this pitiful little town’s cultural development, and we have yet to be featured in any display in this miserable excuse for a bookstore. I have repeatedly told you of our accomplishments, and you repeatedly ignore them! What’s the world coming to when a legitimate literary organization cannot get the slightest bit of help from other institutions devoted to the fine arts?”
    “Prill, I’ve explained—”
    “And to think of all the work we’ve done in this provincial wasteland! Poetry readings in the park, poetry teas, round robins, socials—” He broke off. “Have you read Destinies, by our vice president, Emily Nesp?”
    “Yes, I have and—”
    “Then you must admit the work is superior to Tebling’s drivel.” He gestured with a large, well-manicured hand to the poetry section, where poet John Tebling’s best-selling volumes were artfully displayed amidst ribbons and dried flowers.
    “It’s a pleasant enough piece, but—”
    “Then display it! Promote it! Good heavens, sir, do I have to think of everything?”
    “Will you let me finish a sentence?” When the big man gave a slight begrudging nod, Hayden said, “I’ve told you a dozen times we have limited space and many other works to consider. And frankly, I think Miss Nesp’s work is a bit overdone.”
    Prill had just enough chin to quiver with indignation. “Overdone!”
    “There are a lot of meaningless words strung together.”
    “Meaningless! Those phrases are dynamic! ‘The tearing limb of gratitude.’ ‘Blocks of Justice wrapped in faithful timeliness.’ ‘Fragrant withering spasmodic bells.’ Excellent phrases, sir! Magnificent!”
    Hayden looked around for support, but Georgia hid behind the rack of postcards. The other customers melted into the background. “Just what exactly is a tearing limb of gratitude?”
    “I shouldn’t have to explain anything to you. Good heavens, man, you’re a poet! You’re one of us.”
    “Not really.”
    Prill leaned on the counter. “Still stuck, are you? Serves you right. You’re a stumbling block for those of us climbing the ladder of success, a high wind assailing our delicate skimmers of fancy.”
    He paused as if expecting applause.“Does no one around here appreciate true talent?” He turned back to Hayden. “So, how long has it been?”
    “Three months,” he said.
    Prill made a face. “Well, I didn’t come here to talk about your troubles. What about FLUF? They deserve recognition.” He called over his shoulder. “Georgia, I know you’re back there. You are no help whatsoever.”
    “Don’t look at me,” came a voice from behind the postcards. “I just own the place.”
    “Hayden, I expect you to pull strings for me.”
    “I can’t pull strings for you or anyone else,” he said. “Sorry.”
    “Then what good are you?”
    Hayden laughed. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
    Prill flipped back his cape. “An