Shmucks

by Seymour Blicker

  LOSES NOSE–GETS IT BACK. Rome–Police went to an apartment here yesterday to look for a woman’s nose, bitten off by her husband during a quarrel. They found it in a corridor and drove with it, sirens blaring, to a hospital, where surgeons immediately sewed it back on. Police arrested 37-year-old Salvatore Cali for biting the nose off. His 40-year-old wife Veneranda was expected to remain in hospital for about four weeks.

  Levin couldn’t help chuckling for a few moments. Crazy, he thought. Nuts. That’s all you read about, all you see on TV, or hear on the radio. Violence, killing, rape. It’s unbelievable. He was sure that if he closed his eyes and placed his finger on any page, it would settle on an article dealing with some sort of unpleasantness.

  Just to test himself, he did that. Closing his eyes, he opened the newspaper at random and put his finger down at what he thought was the centre of the page. He opened his eyes and read:

  GIRL, 10, GIVES BIRTH—Buenos Aires—A 10-year-old girl who gave birth to a six-pound, eight-ounce boy sat up in her hospital bed today and cuddled her son. Doctors said she was in good condition. The baby, named Ramon Marcelo, gurgled happily as the mother, Mirta Fontora, held him in her arms. Dr. Roberto Pezzoni, who delivered the baby, said Mirta was born in the northern semi-tropical province of Misiones and had advanced physical development. He said she began to menstruate at the age of nine. One newspaper quoted the girl’s mother as saying Mirta was a timid girl “too shy to undress even in front of me.”

  Incredible, Levin thought. It seemed from reading the papers, there was violence and craziness everywhere. Even Montreal, which had always been a safe city for non-criminal citizens, was being affected. Every other day someone seemed to be getting shot or stabbed in some midtown bar. Only a few years before, shootings and other hard violence had been confined almost entirely to the Main. Now it was commonplace in the posh clubs in the centre city. Levin had felt the potential violence growing over the last few years. When he was still married, it didn’t affect him. He didn’t go out to clubs and discotheques looking to pick up women. He enjoyed spending time at home; and when he did go out with his wife, it was usually to a movie and supper.

  But that was two years in the past. After his divorce he had gone back into circulation with a vengeance. He began to frequent the swinging discotheques and bars. It was then that he became distinctly aware of how the city had changed. He found himself getting involved in hassles and confrontations with other hustlers. Some of his competitors were in their early twenties. At thirty-three, Levin wasn’t in the greatest of shape. He was still very strong, and at 165 pounds was probably only 15 pounds overweight; but his wind wasn’t what it used to be and he wasn’t as fast on his feet as some of the younger studs. He got into a few fights and did alright, but on several occasions he thought it due only to luck that he managed to hold his own. Because he wasn’t going to let anyone move him–and since six months of being back on the scene had taught him that there were a lot of aggressive individuals who might try–he decided to do the only sensible thing: he took up Karate.

  Some months later he had occasion to test the efficacy of this discipline when he saw what appeared to be a burglar attempting to break into a neighbour’s apartment.

  In the ensuing struggle, which was short and brutal, Levin laid him out with several quick blows to the windpipe. Later it turned out that the apparent burglar was in fact a well-known Montreal rabbi. He had been visiting his daughter, who was Levin’s next-door neighbour. After that Levin had been careful with his Karate.

  He stopped thinking and continued reading the paper. He came across an interesting article on the South Vietnamese National Assembly. The item described how the latest session of the assembly had commenced with one deputy offering to drop his pants in the house. Apparently another deputy had said something disparaging about his virility and the first deputy was anxious to disprove these assertions. It looked as though the politicians in South Vietnam were even crazier than their Quebec or Canadian counterparts.

  The Canadian prime minister had told certain people to fuck off in the House of Commons, and of course he had also publicly told certain individuals to eat shit–but he had never offered to flash his pecker in the house, or at least it had never been reported in the press that he had.

  It seemed as though everyone was affected by the syndrome of the times–anger. Everyone seemed determined to vent his rage whenever the occasion arose. How could a simple average guy like himself be expected to act normal when everywhere world leaders, heads of government, were acting like maniacs. He remembered a saying by someone, “In a sick world even the healthy are sick.”

  He sighed deeply and pushed the newspaper away. Aside from his success in meeting the girl, everything had been lousy that day–and even the one good thing had come to nothing.

  He hadn’t been able to accomplish a thing. His whole day had been wasted in useless meetings. He wanted to take Friday off and head up north for a long week-end of fishing but he was behind in all his work. He hadn’t even had time to open his mail or dictate a word of correspondence.

  He hated the correspondence. That was the most difficult thing of all. Administering twenty million dollars of high-class commercial and residential real estate wasn’t easy. The majority of his residential tenants were people who had been spoiled by wealth and had to be handled at worst diplomatically, at best with kid gloves. They were used to demanding and receiving.

  Levin found that in dealing with them, even on the most trivial matters, he had to choose his words very carefully. He figured since he was probably in for a long night, he might as well try to do some work so that he could be completely free for the coming Friday.

  It would be good to take the long week-end. Perhaps he’d take Monday as well.

  He had his dictaphone in the car. He could go over his mail and dictate his correspondence as well. He leaned over into the back seat and pulled his briefcase over into the front. He opened it and took out his mail. He placed it in a stack beside him, and pushed the briefcase away. He picked up an envelope, tore it open and pulled the letter out.

  Dear Mr. Levin:

  I felt I must write to you on what I consider a very serious matter. The tenant directly across the hall from me (Mr. John Martin) is making things very difficult for me. As you know from previous discussions on the telephone, I was never very happy about his taking occupancy in our building. I have lived here at the Grosvenor Arms for thirty years and he is not our kind of person. He works at a night club and is continually coming home in the morning hours. I can hear him getting off the elevator at four o’clock every morning and am constantly being awakened. Once up, I am unable to fall asleep again.

  He is a most inconsiderate person. I approached him one day and asked if he wouldn’t mind taking the stairs at night instead of using the elevator but he objected to climbing the ten flights of stairs each night. I don’t think I was being unreasonable. At his age I would have found ten flights easy to climb. He replied to my request in a very nasty way saying “_uck you lady.” (If you know what I mean). I don’t think this was called for, under the circumstances. In general I find him a very rude and ill-mannered type, certainly not of the calibre of tenant we are used to here at the Grosvenor Arms.

  However, this isn’t the main problem. Last week he bought a rather large dog, a mastiff I believe. It is the size of a small lion and apparently only six months old. I have nothing against dogs as such; however, I found that he allows the dog to make wee wees in the elevator.

  This is something I simply will not tolerate and I don’t expect you will either. I confronted him with the fact the other day but he denied it was his dog that had done it. His reply was, “Lady, my dog only _hits in the elevator, he never takes _isses there.”

  I find this character truly disgusting and insist that something be done to remove him from our building.

  Yours truly,

  Mrs. Dolly Mendelsohn

  Levin put the letter down be
side him. That was going to be a hard one to answer. He’d come back to it.

  He picked up another envelope and opened it. He pulled out a piece of soiled foolscap. The writing on it was jumbled and erratic. He began to read the pencilled scrawl.

  Dear Mr. Levin:

  As you probably know by now, everyone in the building hates our present building manager, Mrs. Silverfarb. She is a nasty person. Never listens, never does anything. She sits in her office and reads books all day. She has to go; it’s either her or us.

  Please let me know your answer as soon as possible. I await your reply.

  Signed an anonymous tenant at the

  Grosvenor Arms

  Levin put it on top of the first letter, shaking his head in disbelief. He was just about to open a third one when he saw the figure of what seemed to be a girl enter the laneway behind the taxi.

  CHAPTER 4

  PELZIC WAS RECLINED ON THE FRONT SEAT. He was fuming inside. He was on his last cigarette, he was hungry, and he had to urinate. He looked at his watch–12:45.

  In spite of his aggravation he smiled. He remembered how he had smuggled it out of Romania. Actually, he hadn’t really smuggled it. He had bought fifty watches and put them all on his arms. They had been lined up from his shoulder to his wrist on the right arm, and from shoulder to elbow on his left. Unfortunately, he had been caught and all the watches had been stripped from him. The customs official, however, had let him keep the one which he stared at now.

  He had also smuggled out a diamond which he had swallowed prior to leaving the country. They had missed that. Later on the train he got the runs and forgetting about the diamond rushed to the washroom and relieved himself. He still wondered sometimes if the diamond was ever found or if it lay to that day on some railway line in Romania.

  Pelzic’s reminiscences of the old country were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the car window. He sprang up, figuring for a moment that it was the madman from the car in front of him–but he saw instead the smiling face of a young girl. Getting an instant erection, he rolled down the window.

  “You got any spare change, mister?”

  Pelzic hesitated for a moment. He wanted to think of a clever reply, a subtle answer–something that would perhaps both impress the girl and at the same time indicate to her that he desired some small pleasure in return.

  Finally he said, “What do you have for me?”

  “A dose of syph,” the girl replied straightfaced.

  Pelzic forced a laugh. “Very funny,” he said, “very funny.”

  “Up your ass,” the girl replied curtly and turned to go.

  “Wait, wait a minute,” Pelzic exclaimed.

  “Yeah,” the girl said.

  “Come into the car and I’ll give you some change.”

  “Just pass it through the window.”

  “Come in an siddown for a minute. I wan talk to you.”

  The girl shrugged with bored indifference and pulled the door open. Pelzic moved over to let her in. She got in and closed the door.

  “Okay talk,” she said.

  Pelzic forced a little laugh. “You’re such a young girl,” he said smiling. “You shouldn’t be out so late. You don’t have school tomorrow?”

  “Are you kidding! It’s July. School doesn’t start till September.”

  “Oh, of course,” said Pelzic, slamming the heel of his palm into his forehead.

  Pelzic sat there for a moment thinking of something to say. The girl sat staring straight ahead.

  “Does your father know you’re out so late?”

  The girl turned towards him with a look of disdain on her face. She made no reply to the question but instead said, “You got a cigarette?”

  “No, this is my last one,” Pelzic replied.

  The girl nodded her head slowly in what Pelzic sensed was a scornful manner.

  Pelzic felt himself sink slightly in his seat.

  CHAPTER 5

  WHEN LEVIN SAW THE GIRL get into the taxi, he began to burn up with envy and rage. He figured that the taxi driver had probably used his radio and had the dispatcher call his girlfriend down to keep him company.

  Damn it, he thought, he should have had the car phone installed like he had once planned to do. At the time, when he had debated the pros and cons of a car phone, he had decided against it because of the cost–fifty dollars a month. But for a situation such as he now found himself in, it would have been well worth it. He could have called any of his friends. He could have ordered up food now if he wanted to.

  He was beginning to get really hungry. He cursed, thinking about the girl in the taxi. Well, at least he would repay the driver for his headlight gambit.

  Levin started his motor and switched on his brights. Now the taxi shmuck would have a little taste of his own medicine.

  He put a James Brown stereo tape into the deck below the dashboard, leaned back and waited to see how the taxi driver would react to the extra candle power.

  CHAPTER 6

  PELZIC EYED THE GIRL’S FIRM YOUNG BODY. How he would love to fondle it. It had been such a long time since he had seen anything so attractive. His wife was a well-built woman but she had begun to sag in places years ago. His girlfriend was nothing to scoff at either, but she too lacked the naive innocence that so attracted him now. He had always been drawn to childlike women but they never seemed to go for him.

  He could feel the blood coursing through his body. He didn’t want her to get out of the car.

  “So you don’t even have one lousy cigarette,” the girl suddenly said.

  “No, this is my last one. You can have a puff if you should like to.” The girl cocked her head as though debating if it was safe to put her lips on the cigarette after it had been in Pelzic’s mouth.

  “Okay, yeah, lemme have a drag.”

  Pelzic held the cigarette so that the girl could drag on it. Just as she inhaled, the interior of the car was illuminated as Levin put on his headlights. The girl winced as she stared into the powerful beams.

  “Who’s that? What does he want?”

  “Him? He’s a fool. He’s crazy.”

  “Why doesn’t he shut his lights?”

  “I dun know. He’s been there all night.”

  “What are you doing here? Do you run the hookers from up there?” The girl pointed at the building to their left.

  “What do you mean?” Pelzic asked. “What hookers?”

  “You know, the high-class hookers from that building. They ship ’em out all over the city. Whatever your taste is, they ship it out. If you want a 12-year-old girl, they’ll get her for you.”

  “No, I don’t do that. I didn’t know they had that kind of organization in that building. I’m just waiting for that crazy guy to move.”

  “Why don’t you just back up and leave?”

  “He’s not going to impose his will on me,” Pelzic said defiantly. “I had enough from the nazis and the communists in Romania. That nazi is not going to do the same,” he said, pointing into the light coming from the other car.

  The girl stared at him. “Well look, are you gonna give me anything? I gotta go. Those lights are freakin me out.”

  Pelzic felt a slight panic. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted the girl to stay. He wanted something from her, he didn’t know what exactly. He didn’t wish to give her any money. If he gave her some change, she’d be gone and most likely laughing at him as she went. He couldn’t reach her. He knew his personality and appearance and speech weren’t attractive to her. He had to make a quick decision. He decided to do it. In one swift motion he unzipped his pants and pulling at his undershorts released his throbbing member into the air.

  “Take a look at dat!” he exclaimed, constricting the appropriate muscles so that it jiggled. There was a wild gleam in his eye. “You like dat, miss?” he asked.

  The girl shook her head in disbelief. “Oh man, are you gauche,” she said. “No class at all.” She opened the door and got out of the car.

 
“Wait,” Pelzic shouted as his tool immediately shrivelled and collapsed. “At least buy me a pack of cigarettes. I’ll give you some spare change.”

  The girl stopped and turned. “How much?”

  “A quarter,” Pelzic said, hastily stuffing his penis back into his pants and doing up the zipper.

  “Gimme half a buck and I’ll get you the smokes.”

  “Okay, here.” He clicked a dollar and five cents out of his money changer and handed the coins to the girl.

  “What brand?”

  “Buckingham.”

  “Right.” She turned to go.

  “How do I know you’ll come back?” Pelzic said.

  “You don’t. I may or I may not.”

  Pelzic shrugged. He needed a cigarette badly. It was worth throwing out a half dollar for the possibility of getting one.

  The girl turned and headed up the alley towards Peel Street.

  CHAPTER 7

  AS LEVIN PUT ON HIS BRIGHT LIGHTS he could see the girl leaning forward to take a drag from the driver’s cigarette. Levin cursed in frustration. The girlfriend had obviously brought some dope with her and now they were turning on. They’d have a party, probably end up screwing while he, Levin, had to sit it out alone and horny. Shit! If only he had installed the goddamn phone in the car. He sat there flicking his brights on and off, and chuckling wickedly to himself. Then he stopped that and tried to discern what was going on.

  They appeared to be talking now. The girl began to motion towards Levin indicating that the lights were bothering her. Good, good. Maybe it would really get her uptight. He felt bad about doing that to the girl but the driver had done the same to him. If he wasn’t going to have any fun, then neither would the taxi driver.