Free Shmucks by Seymour Blicker Page B

passenger.
    â€œWell,” the man said, “if the tow truck is on its way, I’ll just wait here for it, if you don’t mind, and get towed along with you to the service station. They’ll probably be able to get me a cab there.”
    Pelzic shrugged, not knowing what to reply.
    â€œI’ll just lie back here and relax.” The man curled up into a pre-natal position. Pelzic was about to protest when the man said, “You can put the meter on if you’d like.”
    That was a different story! Pelzic thought, suddenly cheered. He clacked on the meter. This was more like it. At least he could make something with the man and he wouldn’t even be using gas. He could sit there all night now without having to feel pressured that he was losing any money. His passenger would probably sleep till morning. Of course when the man awoke there would be a problem of explaining why the tow truck never came, but that shouldn’t be too difficult. Pelzic’s happy thoughts were suddenly interrupted as the man shot up in his seat.
    â€œIt just occurred to me that you can call another cab for me on your radio.”
    Pelzic’s bowels sank. “No,” he replied quickly. “The radio is broken also.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with it?”
    â€œI cannot transmit. I can only receive. Something is broken. I think it’s a tube. A tube is broken inside.”
    â€œWell, I’ll just have to wait then, won’t I?”
    â€œYes,” Pelzic said. “Just lie down. Rest, but please don’t vomit on the seat.”
    â€œDon’t worry. I never do that,” the man said.
    Pelzic turned back and looked up the alley. He tried to see into the other car, but couldn’t make out anything. Suddenly he jumped, as his passenger flatulated loudly in the back seat. Pelzic winced and quickly rolled down his window. Disgusting. He somehow expected more from a millionaire. Of course he had lived long enough and seen enough not to be surprised at crass behaviour from high-class people. The man in the back was probably a boor at heart–the type that farted in bed and pulled the covers up over his head.
    The man flatulated again and sighed deeply. Pelzic stuck his head out the window and breathed in the fresh night air.
    â€œExcuse me,” the man mumbled.
    â€œThat’s okay, just please don’t vomit.”
    â€œNo, I won’t,” the man muttered.
    Pelzic finally pulled his head back inside the car. He turned and looked down at the man who lay there curled on his side. The man stared up at Pelzic. Such a distinguished face, Pelzic thought. Definitely a millionaire.
    A loud burp broke loose from somewhere deep inside the man’s throat.
    Pelzic shook his head sadly and turned away.

CHAPTER 9
    LEVIN PICKED UP ANOTHER ENVELOPE , opened it and pulled out the letter. It was hand-written in a perfectly aligned script. The letters were so perfect that they looked almost like type.
    Dear Mr. Levin:
    The other day the plumbers were up to unblock the drain in my bathtub. They were in the bathroom for some time and when I went to ask how things were progressing, I found the door locked. I didn’t ask them to unlock it as I didn’t wish to appear rude, and they on their part did not offer to unlock the door but communicated with me through the closed door.
    After they had left, I went into the bathroom and immediately noticed that one of the men had obviously been brushing his teeth with my toothbrush. Furthermore, there were dirty footprints on the chenille cover of the toilet seat.
    What kind of people do you have working for you? I wouldn’t have minded so much if he had used my hair brush (which by the way I suspect he did) but I find it rather perverse for someone to use another person’s toothbrush. I know that he used my toothpaste as well since I always squeeze the tube from the bottom and it had obviously been squeezed at the top. I have