Free The Wayward Bus by John Steinbeck, Gary Scharnhorst Page B

teeth to indicate interest and a kind of enthusiasm for the quality of the hurt. The little man was looking into Juan’s face, his eyes shining with pleasure and anticipation.
    â€œYou think it’s bad?” he demanded.
    â€œYou’re damn right, it’s bad,” said Juan.
    â€œYou think I should get a doctor?”
    â€œWell, I would if it was me.”
    The little man chuckled with delight. “That’s all I wanted to hear,” he said. He ran his thumbnail down his instep, and the top of his foot lifted off—the skin, the blood, the mashed toes —and underneath there was his foot whole and unhurt and his toes untouched. He put back his head and laughed with glee.
    â€œGood, isn’t it? Plastic. New product.”
    Mr. Pritchard had come close, a look of disgust on his face.
    â€œIt’s the ‘Little Wonder Artificial Sore Foot,’ ” the man said. He pulled a flat box from his side pocket and handed it to Juan. “You’ve been so nice to me, I want you to have one. Compliments of Ernest Horton representing the Little Wonder Company.” His voice raced with his enthusiasm. “It comes in three sizes—one, two, or three crushed toes. This one I’m giving you is the three-toe number, just like the one you just saw. It’s got bandage and a bottle of artificial blood to keep the bandage looking terrible. Instructions inside. You’ve got to soften it in warm water the first time you put it on. Then it fits like skin and nobody can tell. You can have a barrel of fun with it.”
    Mr. Pritchard leaned forward. Way in the back of his mind he could see himself taking off his sock at a board meeting. He could do it right after he got back from Mexico, tell some story about bandits first.
    â€œWhat do you get for them?” he asked.
    â€œDollar and a half, but I hardly ever sell for retail,” Ernest Horton said. “The trade snaps them up as fast as I can get them. I sold forty gross to the trade in two weeks.”
    â€œNo?” said Mr. Pritchard. His eyes were wide with appreciation.
    â€œShow you my order book if you don’t believe it. It’s the fastest selling novelty I’ve ever handled. Little Wonder is cleaning up with it.”
    â€œWhat is the mark-up?” Mr. Pritchard demanded.
    â€œWell, I wouldn’t like to say unless you’re in the trade. Business ethics, you know.”
    Mr. Pritchard nodded. “Well, I’d like to try one at the retail price,” he said.
    â€œGet you one right after I eat. You got that buttered toast?” he asked Norma.
    â€œComing up,” said Norma, and she went guiltily behind the counter and switched on the toaster.
    â€œYou see, it’s the psychology that sells it,” Ernest said exultantly. “We’ve stocked artificial cut fingers for years and they moved slow, but this—it’s the psychology of taking off your shoe and sock. Nobody ever thinks you’d go to the trouble of doing that. The fellow that figured that out got himself a very nice fee.”
    â€œI guess you’re making a little something out of it yourself,” said Mr. Pritchard with admiration. He was feeling much better now.
    â€œI do all right,” said Ernest. “I got one or two other little things that might interest you in my sample case. Not for sale except to the trade, but I’ll demonstrate them. It might give you a laugh.”
    â€œI’d like to take half a dozen of the sore feet,” said Mr. Pritchard.
    â€œAll the three toes?”
    Mr. Pritchard considered. He wanted them for gifts, but he didn’t want competition. Charlie Johnson could sell the tricks better than Mr. Pritchard could. Charlie was a natural comic.
    â€œSuppose you let me have one three-toe and three two-toe and two one-toe,” he said. “That’d be about right for me, I guess.”
    The quality of the rain was changing. It came with