I trampled back to the weekend market with my bag: my ill-purchased scam. Like fool's gold. Like knotted clown shoes. I approached the store surrounded by pomegranate trees and shouted a bath of potato wine at the owner's face, demanding my money back. “I should've known this is not a unicorn horn, this is not magic! This is just narwhal! Cheap, plentiful narwhal!” Mid ramble, I looked over and saw a timid family of narwhals selling the clerk handfuls of their own sawed-off horns, tearfully saying how unicorn commissions are the only way to afford diapers for their little ones.
Author bio: Benjamin Niespodziany is a librarian at the University of Chicago who runs a multimedia art blog known as neonpajamas. He self-released a chapbook of poems in December known as Dress Code Aquarium and has had work published in The Occulum, formercactus, tenderness, yea, Water Soup Press, and 1833.fm.
Twitter/IG/Facebook/SoundCloud: @neonpajamas
Commission is part of 101 Fiction issue 18.
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