Shmucks (13 page)
Authors: Seymour Blicker
Pelzic reached down, grasped the back of the man's jacket and ripped at it. The seam split open. The man mumbled in his sleep and continued snoring.
Pelzic clutched at the man's shirt and ripped that as well. The man turned, stretched slightly, and snored even louder. Pelzic spied the man's silver cigarette case lying on the seat. He grabbed it and twisted the cover off. He got out of the car and flung the bent halves against the brick wall. A groan of unsatisfied anger passed through his tightly pursed lips. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man rushing towards him from the direction of Stanley Street. The man hurried up to him. “Okay goddamn it, were you the guy making all the noise?”
Pelzic looked straight at the man. “What noise?”
“The noise . . . the fucking noise in this lane. The shouting and racing motors, and banging, and the goddamn horn honking. Don't tell me you didn't hear it.”
“Me? I just got here a minute ago. Maybe it was him.” Pelzic pointed up the lane. “That car was here when I got here.”
“Let me hear you say fuck you,” the man said suspiciously. His eyes narrowed to thin slits.
“I never swear,” Pelzic replied.
The man tossed his head disdainfully and walked up the lane towards the other car.
“Fock you,” Pelzic muttered under his breath as the man headed towards the other car.
Maybe there would be a fight, he thought. Maybe this angry stranger would get himself a good beating at the hands of the man in the other car. It's strange, Pelzic thought, the man in the other car has been my enemy for almost a whole night, he has insulted me calling me a shmock, he had the luck with the girl and stole her away from my car, and yet, I still would like to see him beat up this other puÅ£Ä who has only been in this laneway for a half of a minute. He shrugged.
Well, it's true that he called me a shmock, Pelzic mused, but he didn't really insult me, and he didn't try to frighten me like this shouting man. Pelzic forced these thoughts out of his mind. Both of those men down the lane were arrogant fools. Let them break each other's heads . . . Let them kill each other. They would both deserve whatever they got. Pelzic grinned as he saw the angry stranger stop beside the other car. He could hear him talking in a loud tone now to the man in the other car. Pelzic rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation. Now maybe we will have some action, Pelzic thought. He began to chuckle.
LEVIN SAW THE TAXI FALL
and heard the smash as it hit the ground. He laughed as he heard the tires blow simultaneously, sounding like one loud gun blast. Obviously, whatever it was that the driver had been trying to do, it hadn't worked out too well. He watched as the driver came storming out of the cab and flung something against the wall. He heard the clack of metal striking brick. The pressure was obviously getting the better of the man, Levin thought to himself. He'd better be prepared. From the way the man was acting, he could probably end up rushing him at any moment.
Levin was about to close the window and lock his door when he saw a man come hustling down the alley and approach the cab driver. Levin heard him shouting angrily and saw him waving his arms about like a wildman. A moment later the driver pointed towards Levin's car and Levin saw the man turn and run towards him. He started to close the window again but then decided to leave it open.
“You making all the goddamn noise?” the man shouted before he had even reached Levin's car.
At first Levin wasn't going to answer; but then as the man came up to the window Levin could see that he was extremely agitated. From the look on the man's face he'd probably take a swing at him if no answer was forthcoming. In his seated position Levin knew he was at a distinct disadvantage. He could of course close the window but then he wasn't going to let anyone frighten him into doing something like that, or to be more exact, he wasn't going to allow anyone to think they had frightened him into doing that. Maybe if the man tried to grab him he could trap his arm in the window like he'd done to the drunk. Probably not. This man didn't look like a grabber or a clutcher, he looked like a hitter. If he started hitting, Levin wouldn't have much time to get the window up.
“Eh? Was it you making all the bloody noise?” the man asked again.
“No.” Levin decided to answer the man. He wasn't going to say anything more.
“Well if it wasn't you, then who the hell was it?”
“I dunno.”
“You don't know?! I suppose it was the walls?”
“I dunno, maybe it was. Why don't you ask them?”
The man stopped waving his arms as though stunned by a heavy blow. The man's eyes narrowed dangerously. “Smart guy, eh?”
“Look mister. I don't wanna get into a hassle with you. I said it wasn't me; you'll have to take my word for it.”
“Just like that? I have to take your word for it?”
Levin was getting aggravated. If the man didn't go away soon, Levin knew he was going to go for him. Too bad the man was so close to the door, thought Levin. If he was a few steps back he could slam the car door into him as he got out.
“You don't have to take my word for anything, but I said it wasn't me.”
The man blinked. He looked as though he hadn't slept in a long while. His face appeared haggard and bloated in the dim light. “Well, that taxi guy down there said it was probably you.”
“He did, eh? Well he's full of shit.”
What an obnoxious prick to do something like that, he thought, a real arsehole. Only a complete shmuck would do something like that. Even though it would have been pleasant to instigate a fight between this man and the taxi driver, Levin wasn't going to play that game. Who the hell was this stranger anyways to come rushing over to him screaming! Let him knock his head against the wall if he was upset, Levin thought.
The man stood there as though waiting for Levin to say something. Levin turned away and lit a cigarette. At this point even if the man slugged him full force through the open window, it wouldn't even stun him. He'd be out of that car and on the man in an instant.
“Well, what about it?” the man demanded.
Levin turned towards him. Speaking calmly and deliberately he said, “Mister, if you don't go away immediately, I'm going to get out of my car and hurt you so badly that you'll be lucky if you're not permanently crippled.”
The man stood there for a moment without speaking. Then he said, “A tough guy, eh?”
Levin ignored him.
“So you're tough, okay. Big deal, everybody's a tough guy today. You want to fight, okay I'll fight. Why not? Sure okay, tough guy, I'll fight.”
Levin felt like laughing at the man's sudden flow of words. He appeared to have become unhinged.
“I don't wanna fight with you. Just leave me alone.”
“Okay, you win. I'll leave you alone.” The man turned and began to walk away, mumbling to himself, “You win, you win. Fighters, everyone wants to fight.” He stopped near the front of Levin's car and looked down at the left fender. Suddenly he slammed his fist down onto it.
A guttural scream escaped involuntarily from Levin's throat. “My car!” he yelled. “Goddamn you! No one hits my goddamn car.”
The man had started to walk away. Levin flung open the door, jumped out and ran after the man. He caught up with him and kicked him with all his strength in the ass.
The man grunted from the impact as Levin's boots sank into his buttocks, but he didn't turn and continued walking on down the lane, as though nothing had happened.
Levin went over and examined the fender where the man had punched it. He could see a large dent there. Well, he'd paid for that, Levin thought. It had been a good feeling kicking the man in the arse. It was almost worth the dented fender. What kind of maniac tries to destroy another man's car? he wondered. If he wanted to fight that's one thing, but to punch a car! In certain countries they would hang a man who did that. Mind you, there seemed to be a lot more of that going on these days. People attacking machinery was becoming an everyday occurrence. He remembered reading recently about a man assaulting a vending machine. He had kicked it and punched it and knocked it to the ground because it had refused to dispense a Coke and had given him an electric shock instead. Then there was the man who'd been arrested on the New Jersey Turnpike. Punching, kicking and tearing at his stalled car, he had told the arresting officer that he was punishing it. Strange behaviour, Levin thought, but that was understandable. If the man wanted to punish his own car that was his prerogative, but to punch someone else's car! That was crazy. He turned away from his car and looked down the lane towards the taxi. “Now you'll be here all week, you putz,” he shouted and got back into his car.
He could hear the taxi driver shouting at the man who was now almost out of the laneway. Maybe there would be a fight, Levin thought. He wouldn't mind watching a good fight. It would certainly help to make the time pass faster.
THE MOMENT PELZIC SAW HIS OPPONENT
kick the angry stranger in the rear, he was overcome with an intense urge to do the same. As the man drew abreast of him, Pelzic said, “You got kicked good, my friend, didn't you?”
The man stared straight ahead as though in a stupor and continued walking on past Pelzic.
“You will get the same from me if you should return here, my friend,” Pelzic called out after him, shaking his fist. “If you should punch my car I will also kick you good in the behind,” he yelled.
The stranger ignored Pelzic and walked on to the laneway's end.
“Fock you,” Pelzic shouted. “Fock you to you my friend; and fock also your grandmother's cunt!”
Feeling much better, he turned back to his taxi. That should teach him a lesson he will never forget, Pelzic thought smiling. He opened the door of the cab and was about to get in when suddenly he heard a tremendous crash behind him. He turned just in time to see a huge rock bounce off the trunk of his car. The stranger stood at the end of the lane laughing crazily for a moment. Then he darted out of view. Pelzic could hear the man's feet pounding on the sidewalk. He thought of chasing him up Stanley Street, but realized there would be no way he could catch the man. And even if he did, then what? The man was obviously deranged. Who could tell what he might do if he were cornered. He could pull a knife or even a gun. Pelzic could just imagine what would happen. He'd probably get stabbed or shot and would crawl back bleeding to the laneway to find that the millionaire had run off with his cab. No, he was going to stay right there and finish off the business that he had started with the madman in the other car. He was going to beat that man no matter what, even if it meant staying in his taxi in that laneway for a week. He would stay there for a week even if the drunk didn't leave.
Pelzic examined the trunk where the rock had crashed onto it. There was a depression the size of a football in the middle of the trunk. Another forty or fifty dollars, Pelzic thought. He went back into the cab and stretched out on the seat. This is some day I'm having myself here, he thought. This is really some day.
LEVIN HAD SEEN THE KICKED MAN
pick up the rock and cock his arm. For some reason he had felt an urge to warn the cabbie but there hadn't been time.
Now as he watched the driver standing there in the laneway, his arms hanging heavily down at his sides and his shoulders drooping, he felt a slight pang of pity for the man. He looked so forlorn standing there gazing down at the rear of his cab. Maybe he has kids, Levin thought. Maybe they're waiting up for him at home, wondering where he is. Suddenly growing angry with himself, Levin put these thoughts quickly out of his mind. What the hell am I feeling sorry for that shmuck for! Christ, he started this whole fucking thing anyways. He made me lose out on what would have been a beautiful night. It's too bad that maniac didn't heave the rock through one of his windows. Fuck 'im, Levin thought, feeling a sudden spurt of anger. He's going to back out of this alley if it takes me another week. Levin leaned back on the seat and realized that it was becoming light. He glanced at his watch. It was 4:30. He felt depressed. He leaned back against the door, and watched the taxi driver as he got back into his cab.
Levin got out of his car, urinated against the wall and got back in. He tried to recall the early part of the evening when he had first come into the alley. It seemed like days ago.
He lit a cigarette and putting his feet up on the seat tried to make himself comfortable. He stubbed the cigarette before it was half finished, closed his eyes and fell asleep.
AT 4:40 A.M. PELZIC CALLED THE DISPATCHER
and asked him to send a service station truck. Then he stretched out on the seat, closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, but he was unable to.
All the events of the day kept flashing through his mind. He had been so close, so close to pulling off a Pelzic, and he had ruined it. Through his own stupidity he had thrown away four or five thousand dollars. If only he had listened to his lawyer.
He knew what Schmecker would say if he heard how the insurance people had ruined his accident case. He would say, “Shmock, you were supposed to frap dem out but dose mooches frapped you out instead.”
Yes, for sure that's what Schmecker would say to him when he heard the story. He would call him a shmock. Pelzic winced in embarrassment as he imagined this scene.
Maybe it's true, Pelzic thought. Maybe I am a shmock. He closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking, but he kept hearing Schmecker's voice. The voice sounded more disappointed than angry. Over and over again it kept saying, “Shmock, shmock, shmock, shmock.”
LEVIN WAS DREAMING.
He was sitting in his office and there were half a dozen phones on his desk. A phone rang and he picked up the receiver. It was one of his tenants, a Mr. Sanderson.