your mother name you after a mouthwash ad?"
Mr. Fresh, looking somewhat vulnerable for a man of his size, said, "Toothpaste, actually."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Sorry, I didn't know," Charlie said. "You could have changed it, right?"
"Mr. Asher, you can resist who you are for only so long. Finally you decide to just go with fate. For me that has involved being black, being seven feet tall - yet not in the NBA - being named Minty Fresh, and being recruited as a Death Merchant." He raised an eyebrow as if accusing Charlie. "I have learned to accept and embrace all of those things."
"I thought you were going to say gay," Charlie said.
"What? A man doesn't have to be gay to dress in mint green."
Charlie considered Mr. Fresh's mint-green suit - made from seersucker and entirely too light for the season - and felt a strange affinity for the refreshingly-named Death Merchant. Although he didn't know it, Charlie was recognizing the signs of another Beta Male. (Of course there are gay Betas: the Beta Male boyfriend is highly prized in the gay community because you can teach him how to dress yet you can remain relatively certain that he will never develop a fashion sense or be more fabulous than you.) Charlie said, "I suppose you're right, Mr. Fresh. I'm sorry if I made assumptions. My apologies."
"That's okay," said Mr. Fresh. "But you really should go."
"No, I still don't understand, how do I know who the souls go to? I mean, after this happened, there were all kinds of soul vessels in my store I hadn't even known about. How do I know I didn't sell them to someone who already had one? What if someone has a set?"
"That can't happen. At least as far as we know. Look, you'll just know. Take my word for it. When people are ready to receive the soul, they get it. Have you ever studied any of the Eastern religions?"
"I live in Chinatown," said Charlie, and although that was technically kinda-sorta true, he knew how to say exactly three things in Mandarin: Good day; light starch, please; and I am an ignorant white devil, all taught to him by Mrs. Ling. He believed the last to translate to "top of the morning to you."
"Let me rephrase that, then," said Mr. Fresh. "Have you ever studied any of the Eastern religions?"
"Oh, Eastern religions," Charlie said, pretending he had just misinterpreted the question before. "Just Discovery Channel stuff - you know, Buddha, Shiva, Gandalf - the biggies."
"You understand the concept of karma? How unresolved lessons are re-presented to you in another life."
"Yes, of course. Duh." Charlie rolled his eyes.
"Well, think of yourself as a soul reassignment agent. We are agents of karma."
"Secret agents," Charlie said wistfully.
"Well, I hope it goes without saying," said Mr. Fresh, "that you can't tell anyone what you are, so yes, I suppose we are secret agents of karma. We hold a soul until a person is ready to receive it."
Charlie shook his head as if trying to clear water from his ears. "So if someone walks into my store and buys a soul vessel, until then they've been going through life without a soul? That's awful."
"Really?" said Minty Fresh. "Do you know if you have a soul?"
"Of course I do."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I'm me." Charlie tapped his chest. "Here I am."
"That's just a personality," said Minty, "and barely one. You could be an empty vessel, and you'd never know the difference. You may not have reached a point in life where you are ready to receive your soul."
"Huh?"
"Your soul may be more evolved than you are right now. If a kid fails tenth grade, do you make him repeat grades K through nine?"
"No, I guess not."
"No, you just make him start over at the beginning of tenth grade. Well, it's the same with souls. They only ascend. A person gets a soul when they can carry it to the next level, when they are ready to learn the next lesson."
"So if I sell one of those glowing objects to someone, they've been going through life without a soul?"
"That's my theory," said Minty Fresh. "I've read a lot on this subject over the years. Texts from every culture and religion, and this explains it better than anything else I can come up with."
"Then it's not all in the book you sent."
"That's just the practical instructions. There's no explanations. It's Dick-and-Jane simple. It says to get a calendar and put it next to your bed