sk.cujo-第51部分

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up　the　Alamo；　every　stereotype　you　can　think　of。　No；　I'll　tell　you　what　I　think　is　going　to　happen；　my　friends。'　He　raised　his　glass　and　drank　slowly。　'I　think　a　valuable　and　all　too　short　relationship　is　going　to　e　to　an　end　very　soon　now。　Old　man　Sharp　is　going　to　listen　to　your　proposal；　he's　going　to　shake　his　head；　he's　going　to　usher　you　out。　Permanently。　And　the　next　PR　firm　will　be　chosen　by　his　son；　who　will　make　his　Pick　based　on　which　one　he　believes　will　give　him　the　freest　rein　to　indulge　his　crackpot　ideas。'
'Maybe；'　Roger　said。　'But　maybe　he'll
'Maybe　doesn't　matter　shit　one　way　or　the　other；'　Vic　said　vehemently。　'The　only　difference　between　a　good　advertising　man　and　a　good　snake…oil　salesman　is　that　a　good　advertising　man　does　the　best　job　he　can　with　the　materials　at　hand　。。。　without　stepping　outside　the　bounds　of　honesty。　'Rat's　what　this　mercial　is　about。　If　he　turns　it　down；　he's　turning　down　the　best　we　can　do。　And　that's　the　end。　Toot…finny。'　He　snuffed　his　cigarette　and　almost　knocked　over　Roger's　half…full　bottle　of　beer。　His　hands　were　shaking。
Rob　nodded。　'I'll　drink　to　that。'　He　raised　his　glass。　'A　toast；　gentlemen。'
Vic　and　Roger　raised　their　own　glasses。
Rob　thought　for　a　moment　and　then　said：　'May　things　turn　out　all　right；　even　against　the　odds。'
'Amen；'　Roger　said。
They　clinked　their　glasses　together　and　drank。　As　he　downed　the　rest　of　his　beer；　Vic　found　himself　thinking　about　Donna　and　Tad　again。
George　Meara；　the　mailman；　lifted　one　leg　clad　in　blue…gray　Post　Office　issue　and　farted。　just　lately　he　farted　a　great　deal。　He　was　mildly　worried　about　it。　It　didn't　seem　to　matter　what　he　had　been　eating。　Last　night　he　and　the　wife　had　had　creamed　cod　on　toast　and　he　had　farted。　This　morning。　Kellog's　Product　19　with　a　banana　cut　up　in　it　…　and　he　had　farted。　This　noon；　down　at　the　Mellow　Tiger　in　town；　two　cheeseburgers　with　mayonnaise　。。。　ditto　farts。
He　had　looked　up　the　symptom　in　The　Home　Medical　Encyclopedia；　an　invaluable　tome　in　twelve　volumes　which　his　wife　had　gotten　a　volume　at　a　time　by　saving　her　checkout　slips　from　the　Shop　'n　Save　in　South　Paris。　What　George　Meara　had　discovered　under　the　EXCESSIVE　FLATULENCE　heading　had　not　been　particularly　encouraging。　It　could　he　a　symptom　of　gastric　upset。　It　could　mean　he　had　a　nice　Iittle　ulcer　incubating　in　there。　It　could　be　a　bowel　problem。　It　could　even　mean　the　big　C。　If　it　kept　up　he　supposed　he　would　go　and　see　old　Dr。　Quentin。　Dr。　Quentin　would　tell　him　he　was　farting　a　lot　because　he　was　getting　older　and　that　was　it。
Aunt　Evvie　Chalmers's　death　that　late　spring　had　hit　George　hard　…　harder　than　he　ever　would　have　believed　…　and　just　lately　he　didn't　like　to　think　about　getting　older。　He　preferred　to　think　about　the　Golden　Years　of　Retirement；　years　that　he　and　Cathy　would　spend　together。　No　more　getting　up　at　six　thirty。　No　more　heaving　around　sacks　of　mad　and　listening　to　that　asshole　Michael　Fournier；　who　was　the　Castle　Rock　postmaster。　No　more　freezing　his　balls　off　in　the　winter　and　going　crazy　with　all　the　summer　people　who　wanted　delivery　to　their　camps　and　cottages　when　the　warm　weather　came。　Instead；　there　would　be　a　Winnebago　for　'Scenic　Trips　Through　New　England。'　There　would　be
'Puttering　in　the　Garden。'　There　would　be　'All　Sorts　of　New　Hobbies'。　Most　of　all；　there　would　be　'Rest　and　Relaxation'。　And　somehow；　the　thought　of　farting　his　way　through　his　late　sixties　and　early　seventies　like　a　defective　rocket　just　didn't　jibe　with　his　fond　picture　of　the　Golden　Years　of　Retirement。
He　turned　the　small　blue…and…white　mad　truck　onto　Town　Road　No。　3；　wincing　as　the　glare　of　sunlight　shifted　briefly　across　the　windshield。　The　summer　had　turned　out　every　bit　as　hot　as　Aunt　Evvie　had　prophesied　…　all　of　that；　and　then　some。　He　could　hear　crickets　singing　sleepily　in　the　high　summer　grass　and　had　a　brief　vision　out　of　the　Golden　Years　of　Retirement；　a　scene　entitled　'George　Relaxes　in　the　Back　Yard　Hammock'。
He　stopped　at　the　Millikens'　and　pushed　a　Zayre's　advertising　circular　and　a　CMP　power　bill　into　the　box。　Ibis　was　the　day　all　the　power　bills　went　out；　but　he　hoped　the　CMP　folks　wouldn't　hold　their　breath　until　the　Millikens'　check　came　in。　The　Millikens　were　poor　white　trash；　like　that　Gary　Pervier　just　up　the　road。　It　was　nothing　but　a　scandal　to　see　what　was　happening　to　Pervier；　a　man　who　had　once　won　a　DSC。　And　old　Joe　Camber　wasn't　a　hell　of　a　lot　better。　They　were　going　to　the　dogs；　the　both　of　them。
John　Milliken　was　out　in　the　side　yard；　repairing　what　looked　like　a　harrow。　George　gave　him　a　wave；　and　Milliken　flicked　one　finger　curtly　in　return　before　going　back　to　his　work。
Here's　one　for　you；　you　welfare　chiseler；　George　Meara　thought。　He　lifted　his　leg　and　blew　his　trombone。　It　was　a　hell　of　a　thing；　this　farting。　You　had　to　be　pretty　damn　careful　when　you　were　out　in　pany。
He　drove　on　up　the　road　to　Gary　Pervier's；　produced　another　Zayre's　circular；　another　power　bill；　and　added　a　VFW　newsletter。　He　tucked　them　into　the　box　and　then　turned　around　in　Gary's　driveway；　because　he　didn't　have　to　drive　all　the　way　up　to　Camber's　place　today。　Joe　had　called　the　post　office　yesterday　morning　around　ten　and　had　asked　them　to　hold　his　mail　for　a　few　days。　Mike　Fournier；　the　big　talker　who　was　in　charge　of　things　at　the　Castle　Rock　P。O。；　had　routinely　filled　out　a　HOLD　MAIL　UNTIL　NOTIFIED　card　and　flipped　it　over　to　George's　station。
Fournier　told　Joe　Camber　he　had　called　just　about　fifteen　minutes　too　late　to　stop　the　Monday　delivery　of　mail；　if　that　had　been　his　intention。
'Don't　matter；'　joe　had　said。　'I　guess　I'll　be　around　to　get　today's。'
When　George　put　Gary　Pervier's　mail　into　his　box；　he　noticed　that　Gary's　Monday　delivery　…　a　Popular　Mechanix　and　a　charity　begging　letter　from　the　Rural　Scholarship　Fund　~　had　not　been　removed。　Now；　turning　around；　he　noticed　that　Gary's　big　old　Chrysler　was　in　the　dooryard　and　Joe　Camber's　rusting…around…the…edges　station　wagon　was　parked　right　behind　it。
'Gone　off　together；'　he　muttered　aloud。　'Two　fools　off　booting　somewhere。'
He　lifted　his　leg　and　farted　again。
George's　conclusion　was　that　the　two　of　them　were　probably　off　drinking　and　whoring；　wheeling　around　in　Joe　Camber's　pickup　truck。　It　didn't　occur　to　him　to　wonder　why　they　would　have　taken　Joe's　truck　when　there　were　two　much　more　fortable　vehicles　near　at　hand；　and　he　didn't　notice　the　blood　on　the　porch　steps　or　the　fact　that　there　was　a　large　hole　in　the　lower　panel　of　Gary's　screen　door。
'Two　fools　off　hooting；'　he　repeated。　'At　least　joe　Camber　remembered　to　cancel　his　mail。'
He　drove　off　the　way　he　had　e；　back　towards　Castle　Rock；　lifting　his　leg　every　now　and　then　to　blow　his　trombone。
Steve　Kemp　drove　out　to　the　Dairy　Queen　by　the　Westbrook　Shopping　Mall　for　a　couple　of　cheeseburgers　and　a　Dilly　Bar。　He　sat　in　his　van；　eating　and　looking　out　at　Brighton　Avenue；　not　really　seeing　the　road　or　tasting　the　food。
He　had　called　Handsome　Hubby's　office。　He　gave　his　name　as　Adam　Swallow　when　the　secretary　asked。　Said　he　was　the　marketing　director　for　House　of　Lights；　Inc。；　and　would　like　to　talk　to　Mr。　Trenton。　He　had　been　drymouthed　with　excitement。　And　when　Trenton　got　on　the　old　hooter；　they　could　find　more　interesting　things　than　marketing　to　talk　about。　Like　the　little　woman's　birthmark；　and　what　it　might　look　like。　Like　how　she　had　bitten　him　once　when　she　came；　hard　enough　to　draw　blood。　Like　how　things　were　going　for　the　Bitch　Goddess　since　Handsome　Hubby　discovered　she　had　a　little　taste　for　what　she　was　on　the　other　side　of　the　sheets。
But　things　hadn't　turned　out　that　way。　The　secretary　had　said；　'I'm　sorry；　but　both　Mr。　Trenton　and　Mr。　Breakstone　are　out　of　the　office　this　week。　They'll　probably　be　out　most　of　the　next　week；　as　well。　If　I　could　help　you　…？'　Her　voice　had　a　rising；　hopeful　inflection。　She　really　did　want　to　help。　It　was　her　big　chance　to　land　an　account　while　the　bosses　were　taking　care　of　business　in　Boston　or　maybe　New　York　…　surely　no　place　as　exotic　as　LA；　not　a　little　dipshit　agency　like　Ad　Worx。　So　get　out　there　and　tapdance　until　your　shoes　smoke；　kid。
He　thanked　her　and　told　her　he　would　ring　back　toward　the　end　of　the　month。　He　hung　up　before　she　could　ask　for