Free Raising Demons by Shirley Jackson

supposed to be delivered at noon today.”
    â€œYou the lady with the goods supposed to go out today?”
    â€œYes,” I said. “I am.”
    â€œWell, that goods is not loaded yet.” He thought. “We ain’t got it on the trucks,” he explained.
    â€œWhy not?” It was getting warm in the telephone booth, and I opened the door.
    â€œBecause we didn’t load it on yet. Ed says to tell you he’s sorry and he hopes you ain’t sore.”
    â€œYour three minutes are up,” said the operator, and the foreman said “boyoboy,” and hung up.
    I had one more nickel and before I looked up the number of the E. J. Cobb Storage and Transfer Company I took a deep breath and planned roughly what I was going to say so I would not have to waste any of my three minutes. When I rang the number again Mr. Cobb answered. “Hello?” he said. “Cobb Storage.”
    â€œAll right, now,” I began, and Mr. Cobb gasped.
    â€œThis is the Cobb Storage Company,” he said in a different, high voice. “Did you want something?”
    â€œYes,” I said. “And if you are Mr. Cobb you had better get onto that train you are in such a hurry to catch, and I am warning you right now that Philadelphia is not half far enough and Thursday is not half long enough because in approximately four minutes I am going to arrive at the E. J. Cobb Storage and Transfer Company with a crowbar and when I get there I am going to come into the E. J. Cobb Storage and Transfer Company warehouse with my crowbar and when I come in I am going to start swinging that crowbar right and left smashing whatever is closest, and if whatever is closest turns out to be Freddie that is going to be all right although I would rather it were Mr. Cobb or his secretary. And,” I went on, raising my voice, “now I think of it I am going to bring Mr. Tillotson the policeman and my lawyer with me and I am going to have you arrested for stealing even if you are not Mr. Cobb at all. And after I have you arrested for stealing I am going to call our insurance company over at the bank and tell them that every stick of furniture we own has been stolen with malice aforethought by Mr. Cobb of the E. J. Cobb Storage and Transfer Company and we want to collect all our insurance on it so we can buy more to replace what Mr. Cobb has stolen, and left us without even anything to sit on. And then I am going to send you the bill for hotel accommodations for our family of six from now until we get furniture for our house, and our dog will have to board at the kennel and so will our six cats, and then I think I am going to bring suit against Mr. Cobb for extreme mental anguish brought about by his stealing all our furniture so we came home to an empty house with nothing to sit down on.” I stopped for breath.
    â€œI am extremely sorry that you are taking this attitude,” Mr. Cobb said.
    That is a phrase which has always annoyed me. I raised my voice a little higher, and the ticket agent, who had been craning his neck around the corner of the ticket booth, ducked back down inside.
    â€œNow look,” I said, “I am not going to be insulted by some trifling little insignificant worm of a storage and transfer man who scratches and mars and steals people’s furniture and I should think that you could regard yourself as pretty lucky because I have not really lost my temper yet, but I am going to if you keep talking about attitudes because what attitude can people take when they have no place to sit down? And if you think for one minute that you can retire to Philadelphia with the profits from stealing our furniture you are very much mistaken, because the next person you will deal with will be my husband and
he
is not a poor defenseless woman.”
    â€œIf you would try to be calm,” Mr. Cobb said.
    â€œAnd I am not going to be insulted on top of everything else and if you think you can talk