Cockfighter - Charles Ray Willeford [28]
“Go ahead, Frank, open one up and taste it. There isn't a better relief for indigestion in the world than Licarbo! Take it with a glass of water and you'll belch every time. What more does a man want than a big healthy belch when his belly hurts him? Right? In the South we like our medicines in powder and liquid form. No self-respecting Southerner will take a fancy capsule for belly pains, no matter how many colors it's got.”
I ripped open a packet and spilled some of the mixture into my hand. Licarbo resembled gunpowder, or a mixture of salt and black pepper, heavy on the pepper. I put my tongue to the mixture. It tasted like licorice, not an unpleasant taste at all.
“Mix it in with your coffee, Frank. Licarbo will dissolve almost instantly.”
I shuddered at this suggestion, shook my head and smiled.
“Tastes good, don't it?” Doc beamed proudly, folding his short arms across his chest. “All it is, Frank, is a mixture of licorice root, bicarbonate of soda, a few secret ingredients and some artificial coloring. But the formula will make me rich, and you too, Frank. It takes time, however, to invent and develop a new product and get it out to the waiting market. The New York company isn't my only prospect, not by any means. I've got feelers out all over the nation. This is the big one, Frank, the one I've been working up to through thirty years in practical pharmacy. I've invented other products and sold them too, but this time I'm holding out to the last breath. Why, if I only had the capital I could manufacture Licarbo myself and literally make a fortune. A fortune!”
Doc turned in his chair, sighed deeply, and looked out the window at the rusty wall of the theater.
“People just don't have faith no more, Frank. People today don't recognize a commercial drug when they see and taste it, damn them all, anyway! But this product has got to go over, it has to!” Doc dropped the level of his voice, and said softly, as if to convince himself, “It's only a matter of time, Frank. Only a matter of time.
I slipped the two unopened packets of Licarbo into my jacket pocket. At least I had something to show for my eight-hundred-dollar investment. Doc swiveled his chair and faced me with a bright smile.
“I made this first batch up myself, Frank, and had the sample packages printed up here in town. It costs a lot of money to get started, but you've got to admit the product is good, don't you?”
I nodded, pursing my lips. As far as I was concerned, Licarbo was as good as any one of a hundred similar products on the market. Plain old bicarbonate of soda will make you belch if a belch is required, and that was Doc's main ingredient.
“You'd like to have your eight hundred dollars back just the same. Am I right?” Doc said hesitantly.
I spread my hands, palms up, and nodded.
“Well, I just don't have it right now, Frank.” Doc wet his thumb. “I just don't have it. But you'll get it back one of these days soon, every damned dime, and with plenty of interest. To be honest, I'm just hanging on these days. Don't even have a phone anymore in the office, as you can see. I've got a part-time pharmacist's job at night in a drugstore near my rooming house, and every cent I make goes into office rent, promotion of Licarbo, and I'm barely getting by on what's left. I've dropped everything else to concentrate on Licarbo, but when it hits, and it's going to, it'll be big, really big!”
Old Doc Riordan was another man like myself, riding along on an inborn, over-inflated self-confidence and a wide outward smile. Deep inside, I knew he was worried sick about being unable to write me a check for my money. Well, I could relieve him from that worry in a hurry. Whether his product ever went over big or not was no concern of mine. I wasn't about to ride another man's dream; I had a big dream of my own. It was time to get the hell off Doc's back.
There was a writing tablet on his desk. I reached for it, took my ballpoint lead pencil out of my coat pocket and wrote on the pad:
President, Dixie Pharm. Co.
In return for a ten-year