Shmucks by Seymour Blicker

Author:Seymour Blicker
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062379252
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-10-08T16:00:00+00:00

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.

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