The Aggravation of Elmer
By ROBERT ARTHUR
The world would beat a path toElmer's door—but he had to gocarry the door along with him!
It was the darnedest trafficjam I'd ever seen in WhitePlains. For two blocks aheadof me, Main Street was gutter togutter with stalled cars, trucksand buses.
If I hadn't been in such a hurryto get back to the shop, I mighthave paid more attention. I mighthave noticed nobody was leaningon his horn. Or that at least aquarter of the drivers were outpeering under their hoods.
But at the time it didn't register.I gave the tie-up a passingglance and was turning up theside street toward Biltom Electronics—Bill-Tom,get it?—whenI saw Marge threading herway to the curb. She was leadinga small blonde girl of abouteight, who clutched a child-sizehatbox in her hand. Marge washot and exasperated, but smallfry was as cool and composed asa vanilla cone.
I waited. Even flushed anddisheveled, Marge is a treat tolook at. She is tall and slender,with brown eyes that match herhair, a smile that first crinklesaround her eyes, then sneaksdown and becomes a full-fledgedgrin—
But I'm getting off the subject.
"Honestly, Bill!" Marge saidas she saw me. "The traffic nowadays!We've been tied up forfifteen minutes. I finally decidedto get off the bus and walk, eventhough it is about a hundred inthe shade."
"Come along to the shop," Isuggested. "The reception roomis air-conditioned and you canwatch the world's first baseballgame telecast in color. The Giantsversus the Dodgers, Carl Erskinepitching."
Marge brightened. "That'll bemore fun than shopping, won'tit, Doreen?" she asked, lookingdown at the kid. "Bill, this isDoreen. She lives across the streetfrom me. Her mother's at thedentist and I said I'd look afterher for the day."
"Hello, Doreen," I said. "Whathave you in the hatbox? Dollclothes?"
Doreen gave me a look of faintdisgust. "No," she piped, in ahigh treble. "An unhappy genii."
"An unhappy—" I did adouble take. "Oh, an unhappygenii? Maybe he's unhappy becauseyou won't let him out, haha." Even to myself, I soundedidiotic.
Doreen looked at me pityingly."It's not a he, it's a thing. Elmermade it."
I knew when I was losing, so Iquit.
I hurried Marge and Doreenalong toward our little two-storybuilding. Once we got intothe air-conditioned receptionroom, Marge sank down gratefullyonto the settee and I switchedon the television set with thebig 24-inch tube Tom had built.
Biltom Electronics makes TVcomponents, computer parts,things like that. Tom Kennedyis the brains. Me, Bill Rawlins,I do the legwork, and tend to thebusiness details.
"It's uncanny the way all thosecars suddenly stopped when ourbus broke down," Marge said aswe waited for the picture to comeon. "Any day now this civilizationof ours will get so complicateda bus breaking down someplacewill bring the whole thingto a halt. Then where will webe?"
"Elmer says silly-zation isdoomed!" Doreen put in happily.
The way she rolled the wordout made me stare at her.
Marge only nodded. "That'swhat Elmer says, all right," sheagreed, a trifle grim.
"Why does Elmer say silly-zationis doomed?" I asked Doreen.
"Because it's getting hotter."The kid gave it to me straight."All the ice at the North Pole isgonna melt. The ocean is gonnarise two hundred feet. Then everybodywho doesn't live on ahill is gonna be drownded. That'swhat Elmer says and Elmer isn'tever wrong."