Shmucks

by Seymour Blicker

  Suddenly Levin saw the girl open the door and step out of the car. He could see her lean back towards the window as though exchanging a few words with the taxi man. Levin saw the man extend his hand out the window as though giving something to her. She turned and began to walk up the alley in the direction of Levin’s car.

  Levin’s mind was spinning. Something was up but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was.

  The girl walked towards the car. As she neared the side door, she stopped and turned to face Levin. “You got any spare change?”

  Levin didn’t reply immediately. He was overcome by the beauty and youth of the girl. What was she up to? he wondered. Normally when he was approached by a young girl panhandling, he would reach into his pocket and draw out some change. Not always though. It depended on how he was asked and the overall appearance of the person. In most cases though, when it was a girl he would give, if he had. With the boys he was more reluctant, but even with them he would give if he liked an individual’s style–which wasn’t the case most of the time. Some of them asked as though the money was owed to them.

  He looked closely at the girl. He saw what appeared to be an open trusting face. He didn’t feel she could have any bad intentions and, besides, even if she did, he was curious to find out what they were. In any case, he wanted to give her the money.

  “Yeah, I have some,” Levin said finally. He reached into his pocket, pulled out whatever change was there, and held it out to the girl. She took the money in a thin, long-fingered hand.

  “Hey thanks, thanks a lot.”

  “You’re welcome,” Levin replied.

  She made a half motion to go but suddenly stopped as though something had just occurred to her. “That’s a groovy sound. D’you mind if I listen?” The girl was referring to the stereo tape which Levin had inserted in the deck a few minutes before. “I don’t mind. Can you hear it okay?”

  “Oh yeah, that’s beautiful.”

  She leaned against the car door, gyrating her body almost imperceptibly to the heavy rock sound. Levin could smell the scent of perfume waft in through the window.

  “Would you like a cigarette?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Levin pulled the pack of Export A’s down from the visor, opened it and offered her one. She took it. He gave her a light and watched her face as she inhaled it sensuously, allowing a thin stream to go up her nostrils. She blew the smoke out into the air with a mal de siècle gesture.

  “That’s a good song. Any other good numbers on the tape?”

  “A few.” Levin named several that he liked especially well. She nodded approvingly as he named them.

  “Have you got any other tapes?”

  “Sure, I have a whole boxful.” He pointed at the tape container which fitted across the drive shaft hump.

  “Who have you got?”

  Levin named several that came to mind.

  “That’s good stuff. Have you got any Otis Redding?”

  “Yeah, I have his Sittin on the Dock of the Bay,” Levin replied nonchalantly.

  “Oh wow, too much. That’s so heavy.”

  Levin nodded in agreement, staring at her face. She couldn’t be more than fifteen years old, he thought–maybe less, maybe fourteen, maybe less! He could feel an excitement rising in his belly. She had a truly beautiful face. Her breasts had a slight exciting sag to them and suggested in a subtle way the basic sensuality beneath her innocent face.

  “Could you put on the Otis tape?”

  “Sure, I’d be glad to.” Levin turned on the courtesy light, opened the tape box, and pulled out the tape. He inserted the new one into the slot, and turned the volume up slightly.

  “Oh wow, he’s too much!” the girl exclaimed ecstatically as the song opened.

  Levin nodded in agreement.

  “Hey look, if you’re going to listen to this, you might as well do it sitting down.” Levin said this more as a question than a statement.

  “Yeah okay, thanks.” The girl went around the front of the car, opened the door, got in and pulled the door closed behind her. She stretched her legs out in front of her and slouched down in the seat.

  Looking at her, Levin felt quite certain that the girl couldn’t be a friend of the taxi driver.

  “Are you a friend of that guy down there?” he asked, pointing towards the taxi.

  “That guy! Are you kidding? What a gross fool that man is. I just asked him for some change. He invited me into the car and pulled his–you know, his thing out at me.”

  “The guy must be an animal,” Levin said, putting a shocked sound into his voice.

  “Yeah . . . there’s all kinds of wierdos running around downtown.”

  “The guy must be some kind of pervert or something,” Levin said, feeling much better now.

  The girl shrugged indifferently. “I guess it takes all kinds.”

  Levin nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Oh wow!” the girl exclaimed suddenly. “I just remembered. I told him I’d get him some cigarettes. He gave me fifty cents.” She paused for a moment. “Oh well, I guess he can wait.”

  “Yeah, it won’t kill him,” Levin said nonchalantly. He chuckled to himself.

  “Yeah, he probably doesn’t really believe I’ll come back with them anyway, so if he gets them a bit late he’ll still be way ahead. Right?”

  “Absolutely,” Levin replied. “You’re probably doing him a favour. He probably smokes too much anyway, and could stand a little stoppage in his smoking habits. It’ll help clear out his lungs.”

  The girl smiled wryly at Levin’s attempt at humour.

  “You’re right,” she said and turned her attention back to the music.

  She was moving her shoulders in half time to the beat of the song. She brought her top teeth down over her lower lip and closed her eyes.

  A cold lust was rising up in Levin’s belly. At the same time, he tried to ignore an emotion which he recognized as shame. He suspected there was something a little wrong with the intense passion he was feeling. The girl was so young. . . . Her air of youth and innocence could not be concealed despite the distinct aura of awareness about her.

  He tried to push his horny thoughts out of his mind. The girl was now moving her hands in a sensuous counterpuntal rhythm to the beat of the music. Levin felt that he could get to the girl.

  The hunger ache in his stomach finally diverted his thoughts. What the hell was he doing in that alley? It was insane. He ought to go immediately, but the moment he visualized himself actually driving away from the scene, he felt a righteous anger well up inside him and he knew he couldn’t leave.

  The hunger pains persisted. Perhaps the girl would go over to Moe’s for him and bring back a few smoke meat sandwiches.

  “Would you mind doing me a small favour?”

  “Depends.”

  “I’m hungry. I’ve been sitting here for hours and I haven’t eaten anything since noon. Would you mind getting me a few sandwiches at Moe’s?”

  “Sure, okay, but I can’t understand why you just don’t drive over there. I mean I know you and that guy are having some wierd kind of hassle but it seems a little strange. I mean, wow, just sitting here.”

  “Yeah, well, the guy’s a nut and he needs to be taught a lesson.”

  The girl shrugged. “What would you like?”

  “Two lean smoke meat; a french fried and a Pepsi. Put a lot of vinegar and salt on the chips, okay?” he said.

  “Okay. Have you got some money?”

  “Yeah, here.” Levin took a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to the girl. She looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

  “Aren’t you afraid I might rip you off for this money?”

  “It didn’t really enter my mind. Would you like something to eat?”

  “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Okay, get whatever you want.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” the girl said and got out of the car.

  Levin smiled as
a warm feeling moved up his spine. He observed the girl through the rearview mirror as she went up the lane. He watched her until she turned right on Peel Street and disappeared from view.

  CHAPTER 8

  PELZIC SAW THE GIRL GET INTO THE CAR and began to feel slightly uneasy. He felt quite certain that the girl would make an exit momentarily; but what if she didn’t? What if the man in the car succeeded where he had failed?

  He felt something constrict in his stomach and a slight sensation of nausea moved up into his chest. A sudden violent image flashed through his mind. He saw himself leaping out of his cab, charging down the lane, dragging the man out of the car, and begin pummelling him mercilessly. That would teach him to start with Gabor Pelzic!

  He wondered what the girl was up to.

  He couldn’t see anything and thought of putting on his lights but it occurred to him that he might anger the girl as well as appear stupid to her. He wanted those cigarettes. If he angered her perhaps she wouldn’t bring them. Maybe if she returned he would try and approach her in a different fashion. Maybe on the way to the store she would think about the sight of his exposed member and become excited. Perhaps she would return with a better attitude.

  Pelzic glanced anxiously at his watch. She had been in there for almost ten minutes. What was going on?

  He sat there for several minutes speculating on what was taking place in the car. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted as his rear door was yanked open. Pelzic spun around, panic-stricken by this sudden disturbance, just as a man tumbled into the back seat. The man picked himself up, reached over and pulled the door closed.

  Pelzic sat there in stunned silence for a moment. The man appeared to be in his middle fifties and distinguished looking with tousled greyish hair and a small moustache.

  Still slightly stunned by this sudden and unexpected intrusion Pelzic just stared dumbly at the man, who seemed to be trying to compose himself.

  “Driver, please take me to Landsdowne Crescent,” the man finally said.

  “I can’t, I’m occupied,” Pelzic blurted out.

  The man looked slowly to his right and to his left as though searching for something. “Occupied?” he said testily. “I don’t see anyone else in this car.”

  “No, I mean I’m busy. I cannot take you now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Uh . . . my car is broken,” Pelzic answered.

  “Broken? I don’t see anything broken.” The man looked around once more.

  “It’s something in the motor. It sounds like it might be the . . . crankshaft.”

  “Crankshaft? I don’t see any crankshaft.” The man looked around again as though expecting to find the crankshaft.

  “The crankshaft is in the motor. You can’t see it,” Pelzic replied.

  He could smell the heavy odour of whisky which emanated from the man and filled the car. A real drunkard, Pelzic thought.

  “How do you know I can’t see it?” the man asked. “Oh I see the crankshaft all right. I see it quite well now. I can even make out some writing on it. It says crankshaft. Yes, it’s spelled out in large block letters. Do you want me to tell you what it looks like?”

  “No,” Pelzic answered.

  He wanted to get the drunk out of his car before he vomited all over the seat. A feeling of disillusionment came over Pelzic. The man looked distinguished. He was wearing expensive clothes.

  Landsdowne Crescent was a street for millionaires. This man was probably one, yet here he was so drunk he hardly knew what he was saying. Pelzic watched the man who appeared to be making a very conscious effort to compose himself.

  “Look,” the man finally said. “I’ve been at the St. Andrew’s Club all night and then at the Peel Street Pub. I have consumed a lot of liquor. I must get home and get to sleep. You’ve got to take me home.”

  Pelzic sensed the man was on the verge of tears. The man fumbled around in his jacket pockets and finally pulled out a silver cigarette case. He flicked it open and pulled out a cigarette. He closed the case and started to put it away.

  “Can I have one?” Pelzic asked.

  The man hesitated for a moment, then said reluctantly, “Of course, here you are.” He handed the case to Pelzic who took it and dropped it on the front seat. The cigarettes spilled out.

  “I’m sorry, excuse me,” Pelzic said. Pelzic picked up several cigarettes and replaced them, leaving five or six on the seat. He closed the case, returned it to the man, scooped up the handful of cigarettes from the seat, and slipped them into his shirt pocket. He might need them if the girl didn’t return, he thought and chuckled inwardly.

  It was too bad he had made up his mind to outlast the man up the lane. Otherwise he could probably drive the drunk around in circles and run the meter up high before taking him home. Too bad. Pelzic struck a match and gave the man a light.

  “Are you waiting for a tow truck?” the gentleman asked.

  “Yes, that’s right. The tow truck’s coming soon to tow me away.” Just as he said this, Pelzic heard a car door slam. He saw the girl walking up the lane towards Peel Street. Maybe she’d return. He turned back towards his unwanted passenger.

  “Well,” 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.

  “I’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.

  “It 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.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “I cannot transmit. I can only receive. Something is broken. I think it’s a tube. A tube is broken inside.”

  “Well, I’ll just have to wait then, won’t I?”

  “Yes,” Pelzic said. “Just lie down. Rest, but please don’t vomit on the seat.”

  “Don’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.

  “Excuse me,” the man mumbled.

  “That’s okay, just please don’t vomit.”

  “No, 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 since thrown the toothbrush out and feel that I am not being unreasonable in asking that I be reimbursed for a new one which I purchased today. It is the same as my previous one, Dr. Greens medium. The cost of this is $2.20 with tax. The bill is attached.

  Thank You.

  Yours Miss Faith Halter

  Levin threw the letter down. An oppression seemed to be settling on him. He couldn’t dictate any letters now. He was fed up. He’d leave them go, and phone. The personal call was always better anyways, he reasoned.

  Maybe he wouldn’t even call. Maybe he’d just ignore all his mail. He chuckled at the idea. Maybe he ought to try that. Every day he would take all his mail and just throw it into the wastepaper basket. Then he would wait to see the results.

  The job was just getting to be too much–the petty complaints of the tenants, their constant inane pestering. Who needs it! He stopped thinking for a moment and listened to the music coming from the tape deck.

  Suddenly he reached beside him, grabbed the stack of mail, and threw it out the window.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE MAN LAY CURLED ON THE SEAT STILL AWAKE. Occasionally he would groan, or sigh. Sometimes a loud burp would break from his throat. Every few minutes he would toss and turn to a different position. It seemed to Pelzic as though his passenger was having trouble falling asleep.