Free A Commodore of Errors by John Jacobson

wiped his eyes, stood up, and faced his Filipino Martinizer. “Shut down the Martinizing machine, Raymond.”
    Raymond looked at his watch. “But, Mr. Paultz, we still have five minutes to go.”
    Putzie took off his rubber Martinizing gloves and walked up to Raymond. Like his hero George C. Scott in the movie Patton , Putzie slapped Raymond across the face with the rubber gloves.
    â€œDon’t be a yellow-belly soldier! The Martinizing machine! Now!”
    â€œBut we still have more shirts to press, sir. The Commodore’s shirt!”
    Putzie ignored Raymond’s plea and marched over to the Martinizing machine. With a theatrical flourish, he threw the main switch himself. Shutting the Martinizing machine down five minutes early was the first spontaneous thing Putzie Paultz had done in twenty years.
    Putzie thrust his arms over his head to the sound of the Martinizing machine winding down. “I’m free!” Putzie shouted. “I’m free!”
    â€œNot so fast.” Mrs. Tannenbaume cupped her ear, straining to hear what was coming from upstairs. “Do you hear what I hear?”
    Raymond walked to the front of the store to turn off the loud commercial blower behind the curtain. With the commercial blower turned off and the Martinizing machines silenced, Mrs. Tannenbaume stood with Putzie and Raymond behind the counter with their ears cocked toward the ceiling.
    â€œIt sounds like a dog barking,” Raymond said.
    â€œIt’s barking, all right,” Putzie said. “But that’s no dog.”
    Mrs. Tannenbaume nodded and put her hand on Putzie’s shoulder. Poor Putzie Paultz. Such a nebbish. She wished this wasn’t happening to him, but it was. Mitzi had found her long-legged lover—and now they all knew about it.
    â€œThat’s Mitzi,” Putzie said. “Years ago, on our honeymoon, Mitzi barked like that. I’d know her bark anywhere.” Putzie once again hung his head. “I haven’t been able to make her bark since.”
    â€œMitzi barking?” Raymond said. “What would make Mitzi bark like a dog?”
    Mrs. Tannenbaume reached over and grabbed a hunk of Raymond’s cheek with her clawlike grip. “Don’t be such a shlub . She’s upstairs with her long-legged lover, that’s what.”
    â€œOh,” Raymond said, rubbing his cheek. “The hoo-hoo and the ha-ha.” “That’s right.” Mrs. Tannenbaume sighed. “She’s having a situation right over Putzie’s head.”
    Putzie slumped into his chair, no longer George C. Scott but the same old Putzie Paultz. He covered his face with his hands and began to weep. His sobs drowned out the barking. In fact, the sobs became so loud they wafted through the ductwork to the upstairs apartment.

    Mitzi heard it before Mogie. She stopped barking.
    â€œWhat’s that sound, babe?” Mitzi said over her shoulder to Mogie, still going at it from atop his stool.
    Mogie furrowed his brow and listened to the sound coming from the ductwork. “I know what it ain’t.” Mogie picked up his stool and raced to hide it under the bed. “It ain’t the goddamn Martinizing machine. Putzie’s onto us. I’m outta here, baby.”
    Mogie was still putting on his clothes as he half-climbed half-slid down the fire escape to safety. Mitzi stayed put. Putzie’s sobbing froze her in her tracks. She cried out in the emptiness of her tawdry love shack. “Why won’t you use the stool, you Putz!” Mitzi sobbed. She knew Putzie played it down the middle, that’s why she married him, but, God, did he have to be so rigid?
    Putzie’s sobs collided with Mitzi’s sobs and reverberated inside the ductwork. The sobs inside the ductwork undulated back to the store.
    â€œOh my,” Mrs. Tannenbaume said, as they listened to the sheet metal warping. “It sounds like Hogan’s Alley up there in the