the instrument. A few dials of the finger and buster, the street outside will be full of clanging bells and sirens careering in off the avenue, anything to keep people nervous. The blue uniforms, respirators, acetylin torches and usual safe cracking equipment to get to Matilda's cadaver behind the mahogany disguised half inch steel door. And as George put the dark plastic to his ear and a finger into the chromium dial, his arms rose in rigidity as an icy clutch of water crashed upon his back. A loud shout and laugh from Matilda as she said surprise and Smith said Jesus Christ so it could be heard in the padded cells on the island in the river.
"Matilda, God damn you. What the hell's the idea. The absolute and the preposterous cheek after I'm half scared to death."
"You can't talk to me like that Mr. Smith."
"I'm talking to you like that. Get me a towel. You're behaving in an absolutely stupid manner."
"That white trash, that blond bitch."
"She's my secretary. What the hell are you making out of my life. Don't I pay you enough."
"Yeah, sure bring up money. Sure bring up the money, Mr. Smith. It's the only thing you understand is that old green stuff. Buy everybody off don't you."
"Matilda you're talking out of turn. I'm soaked."
"I know my turn to talk, you don't have to tell me when to talk. I'll talk and I'll talk and I'll talk. Slurping up asparagus."
"We're going to settle this Matilda. Get me a towel."
"Sure you can settle, can't you. Get it yourself. Everybody in their place, setde up. Fire me. Get rid of those you can get rid of. I don't mind walking the streets. Plenty of jobs."
"Well you're not working in that room."
"You want to fire me."
"No one said anything about firing."
"Fire me."
"No."
"Well you can if you want, just so you understand that."
"Stop explaining my rights to me and get some clothes on. And get me a towel."
"O it's business now. You don't mind a little bare tit on Fridays. You want it white now."
"I've got to be at the office."
"Sure, everything's black and white in the day time."
"I just hope that by tonight you're behaving in a civilized manner."
"Or what are you going to do."
"Stop pressurizing me. Just telling you to be out of that room. And have something to eat ready for a change."
George rose sadly in the direction of the bathroom. Reflecting upon the turkey cock unable to flap its wings in the floor. Life's getting like a merrygoround with people getting on and off and no one paying for the ride. I'll try to track Miss Tomson down. No I won't. If she can get more money and better conditions somewhere else, let her. That goes for Matilda too. I've never bought anyone in my life. Cheaply. Is treating people with warmth and concern buying them. And then being doused from behind. Answer me that. Hear her, standing on the verge of stark nudity having an argument with me.
Smith putting on a blue shirt and a black tie dotted with three legged golden stars. No Miss Tomson to reach out and give it a flick and say that's for the birds. Guess you might say I'm going to have a little freedom of expression around my office for a change. And take up the phone with my new adaptor that fades out my voice when the talking gets ticklish and sends the line dead at signs of disaster. Wear white shoes with red dots if urge denotes that attire. I lie. What an empty god forsaken place the office has become. When people are going home, sidewalks crowded. And I'm head in hands. Too sad to look up, out, forward. And late tonight I take the train.
"Matilda, I catch the train at eight and I want sandwiches."
"Sure if that's the way you want it."
"Shit."
"Ooo you said a nasty word, Mr. Smith."
"Are you locked in that room again."
"I'm delicately attired."
Smith clenching fists. He raised them slowly. Dropped them and spread out his fingers and looked at the nails. Not much moon showing. I'll just take so much from her and no more. O there'll be changes, no more of this if it's all right with you Matilda. Thinks she owns me. That I live to keep her.
Businesslike George Smith went to the kitchen. Taking four large elliptical white plates. At Matilda's door he raised them above his head and crashed them to the floor. A little white chip