BUBBLEGUM'S BRIEF FORAY INTO THE BLACK MARKET

Katie Thorn

UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE

NOTICE TO ALIENS OF ENEMY NATIONALITIES

The United States Government requires all aliens of German, Italian, or Japanese nationality to apply at post offices nearest to their place of residence for a Certificate of Identification. Applications must be filed between the period February 9 through February 28, 1942. 

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I can’t quite make out what he’s saying, but the other prisoners are laughing. For a moment, Wilhelm Kaspar’s eyes meet mine above the crowd. He winks at me, and I feel my hands curling into fists. 

       “Break it up!” I snap, striding across the yard. The men disperse, heads down, feet shuffling dust into the air. “Kaspar,” I say as he grabs the bucket and starts towards the kitchen where he’s assigned to mess duty. “A moment of your time.”

       “I want you to know, Mr. Bubblegum, sir, that I’m not spreading dangerous state secrets.” He’s mocking me.

       “What did you just say?”

       “I’m not spreading-”

       I shake my head. “Before that. You called me-”

       “Bubblegum,” he supplies with a wink. “See, I like to come up with little names for everyone. Helps it feel less like a jail here and more like… camp!”

       “And what do they call you?” 

       He grins an odd, unsettling smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I am the Magician.”

       This man has clearly lost his entire mind. I’m half tempted to send him on his way. And yet, I find myself saying, “I’ve been hearing whispers about you. About your abilities.”

       He glances around to make sure no one is listening. “And which abilities are those? Because I have several skill sets.”

       “They say you can make cake out of thin air.”

       He laughs, and I can feel my face heating up. “And I can make fancy bread appear with the morning dew, too?” He shakes his head. “I’m not God, or one of your prophets. I can’t make something from nothing. But I can make anything from not much.”

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KENEDY TEXAS BULLETIN, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1943

BROWN PLANS TO STOP FARMERS SELLING MEAT

Price Administrator Prentiss M. Brown today declared his unequivocal determination to wipe out “black market” operations in meat, butter, and other scarce commodities. Brown said in an interview with the United Press that he is determined to use all means at his disposal to crush illegal sales “sabotaging” wartime economy. 

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“Is this enough?” I ask, sliding the sack across the table to the Magician. He switches his flashlight on, examining what I’ve brought. 

       “Sugar? Where in this godforsaken desert did you find sugar?”

       I shrug. “Not important.” I’m not going to tell him that I spent an entire week’s pay and a half sheet of ration stamps convincing the grocer to sell it to me. 

       “You just don’t want to share your sources, you sneak,” he teases. “Cruel.”

       “Can you make it?” I ask. He shines his flashlight in my face, blinding me. I look away, blinking as spots dance in my vision.

       “Course I can. I am the Magician, after all.”

       “Yeah, all right, Kaspar,” I grumble. “Just… If you get caught, I will not be able to protect you.”

He laughs, switching off his flashlight and leaving the kitchen in darkness. “If I get caught, I’m blaming it all on you.”

       “Good luck with that.” I head towards where I hope the door is, bumping into a table as I go. I swear under my breath. 

       “Hey, Bubblegum,” he calls after me. I stop, rubbing my hip where I ran into the table edge. “If you come across any more supplies while you’re out there keeping us in line… Just don’t forget me, hey? And I won’t forget you.”

       “Why does that sound like a threat?”

       “Better question,” he says, turning his flashlight back on and aiming it in the direction I’m going. “Why are you going that way? Door’s behind you.”

       “Yeah, all right.”

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KENEDY TEXAS BULLETIN, MONDAY, MAY 10, 1943

OPA Sets 25-Pound Per Person Limit On Canning Sugar

Continued from Page One

The new community-wide dollars-and-cents prices are one of the steps taken. For the present, they cover poultry, cabbage, onions, milk, bread, eggs, soap, butter, sugar, coffee, shortening, flour, and other items. 

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“What do you need?” I ask the Magician, unlocking the door to the kitchen. I flinch as the clicking sound echoes across the silent stillness of Camp Kenedy. “Sugar? Butter?” 

       He shakes his head. “Apples.”

       “Apples? I can get them, but they won’t be cheap.” I close the door behind him, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness.

       “Let me guess, it’s my job to pay for them?”

       “You’re the one who wants them.” I can hear him moving around the kitchen, lifting bowls from the shelves, preparing to bake. “Say, where did you learn to bake like this? Did your folks have a bakery back in Seattle?”

       He scoffs. “You do realize I wasn’t born in Seattle? I lived in Germany till I was ten. I ain’t a real American, not like you.” He crosses the kitchen, grabbing my hand and pressing something into my palm. “Just concentrate on getting those apples, yeah? And leave me be. I’m a prisoner, not your friend. Got it?”

       I leave him alone in the kitchen, returning to my patrol of the barbed wire fence with Lewis. When he stops to light a cigarette under the blinding glare of the searchlights, I open my hand and examine the gold ring the Magician gave me. I rub my thumb over the engraved words inside and then tuck it into my pocket. I’ll find some other way to pay for the supplies he needs. 

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KENEDY TEXAS BULLETIN, FRIDAY, JANUARY 21, 1944

AMMUNITION FOR YOUR FAMILY’S HEALTH!

JUST RECEIVED SHIPMENT

APPLES

Delicious and Winesap

2 LBS. 25¢

Will Go On Sale 

Saturday Morning 10 AM

FIRST COME, FIRST SERVED

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“That all you could get?” 

       I look at the bruised apples on the counter between us. “I was too late to get my pick,” I lie. “That’s all that was left by the time I got there.”

       The Magician swears. “I wasn’t talking about the quality, Bubblegum. I was talking about the quantity. Ten apples for what I gave you? You’re getting swindled, buddy.” 

       “Can you get by with ten apples for now?” I ask, ignoring his implications.

       “I can get by with anything.” He grins at me. “Think I can feed the five thousand with just ten apples?”

       I roll my eyes. “Okay, you can stop with the jokes.”

       “Aw, you know you like it when I joke.”

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THE NEW YORK TIMES

New York, Tuesday, May 8, 1945 

THE WAR IN EUROPE IS ENDED! 

SURRENDER IS UNCONDITIONAL;

V-E WILL BE PROCLAIMED TODAY;

OUR TROOPS ON OKINAWA GAIN

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“Be over any day now, hey?” the Magician says, looking up from the dough he’s kneading. He nods towards the newspaper in my hands. “What’ll you do when this war is all done?”

       “I’m going to marry my girl.” 

       “Yeah? Just give me a bit of notice and I’ll make the cake for you.” He smiles at me. 

       I fold the paper, tucking it under my arm. “Better find yourself a suit, too. Can’t have you showing up at my wedding dressed like that,” I tease.

       “Oh, so now I’m invited to the ceremony?” 

       “Guest of honor,” I say.

       He raises his eyebrows, slapping his dough on the counter. “I’ve never been to a Jewish wedding before.”

       “You’re in for a treat, then.”

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KENEDY TEXAS BULLETIN, TUESDAY, APRIL 22, 1946

RESETTLEMENT

As the result of its program of reabsorption of the Germans into American life, the War Relocation Authority could report by December 31, 1945 that 12.5 percent of the evacuees were awaiting either resettlement or repatriation and 17.5 percent had either been repatriated to Germany or were in internment camps awaiting transportation.  

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“Lewis,” I say, grabbing my fellow guard’s sleeve as he passes, “Is this accurate?”

       He stops, squinting at the list on the bulletin board outside the guard house. “Yeah. Why?”

       I shake my head. “Nothing. Just - they’re already gone?”

       Lewis chuckles. “What’s the matter with you, Blumstein? You knew those Nazis were getting shipped out today.”

       I nod, letting him go. I look back at the list of prisoners being repatriated. Wilhelm Kaspar, second from the bottom. I check my watch. He’ll be getting on a ship about now. 

       “Blumstein, you coming? You still owe me that beer, you know,” Lewis calls, and I follow him toward the gates, fiddling with the ring in my pocket, rubbing the familiar engraving. 

       “How do you feel about Jewish weddings, Lew?”

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THE JEWISH CHRONICLE

WEDDING BELLS

Blumstein - Rubin

Miss Lea Rubin and Benjamin Blumstein were married Saturday night, September 14. Mrs. Daniel Berry, a school friend of the bride, was the matron of honor, and Harold Lewis, a colleague of the bridegroom, was best man. A reception followed the ceremony. 

After a wedding trip to Baltimore, the couple will leave for Camp Kenedy, where the bridegroom is in service with the armed forces.

Katie Thron

Katie Thorn, currently studying creative writing online through Falmouth University, divides her time between writing, baking, and listening to odd musicals. Her stories have been published in Antonym Lit, Livina Press, Prompt Press, The Writer’s Workout, Magnolia Magazine, and Nine Muses Review, amongst others.