Read Online The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Foster Wallace
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the color of a kind of dark nut. Not the sort of tan that comes from the sun. Lenore sensed CabanaTan. The guy looked like a photographic negative, she decided.
He sighed. “Two unmarried girls, in distress, working in this tiny little office ...”
“Women,” Candy Mandible corrected.
“I’m not married either,” Judith Prietht called over. Judith Prietht was about fifty.
“Groovy,” said Peter Abbott.
“So can Bambi and Big Bob and all the others even get any calls, now?” Lenore asked. “Do their phones ring at all?”
“Sometimes, sometimes not,” Peter Abbott said, jingling his belt. “The point is they can’t be sure where it’ll ring, and neither can you, which is obviously subpar service. Your number’s not picking you out of the network like it should, it’s as we say picking out a target set and not a target.”
“Lovely. ”
“At least now you’ll have some calls to answer,” said Judith Prietht. “All you ever get is wrong numbers anyway. You guys are going to go bankrupt. Who ever heard of a publishing house in Cleveland?”
“I like your shoes,” Peter Abbott said to Lenore. “I got some shoes just like that.”
“Does Rick know about all this?” Lenore asked Candy.
Candy stopped. “Rick. Lenore, call him right away.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Who knows what’s ever the matter. All I know is first he just had a complete spasm about your not being here. This was at like ten-o-one. And then now he keeps calling down all the time, to see if you’re here yet. He keeps pretending it’s different people asking for you, holding his nose, putting a hankie over the phone, trying this totally pitiful English accent, pretending it’s outside calls for you, which he should know I can tell it isn’t because he knows the way the console light flashes all fast when they’re in-house calls. God knows he spends enough time down here. And now he hasn’t come down for his paper, even, he’s just sitting up there brooding, playing with his hat.”
“What else does he have to do?” said Judith Prietht, who was unwrapping wax paper from a sandwich and blinking coquettishly at Peter Abbott, who was in turn trying to stare down over the counter into Lenore’s cleavage.
“God, well I really need to talk to him, too,” said Lenore.
“Sweetie, I forgot for a second. How just totally horrible. You must be out of your head. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I think so. Vern’ll be in at six. I’ll call Rick as soon as I can. I have to call my father, too. And his lawyer.”
“I sense something in the wind,” said Peter Abbott.
“You hush,” said Candy Mandible. She squeezed Lenore’s arm as she passed. “I’m late. I have to go. You come home tonight, hear?”
“I’ll call and let you know,” Lenore said.
“What, you guys are roommates?” Peter Abbott asked.
“Partners in crime,” Judith Prietht snorted.
“Lucky room, is all I can say.”
“Let’s just have a universal dropping dead, except for Lenore,” said Candy. She walked off across the marble lobby floor into the moving blackness.
“She’s got another job?” Peter Abbott asked.
“Yes.” The console beeped. “Frequent and Vigorous.”
“Where at?”
Lenore held up a finger for him to wait while she dealt with somebody wanting to price a set of radials. “Over at Allied Sausage Casings, in East Corinth?” she said when she’d released.
“What a gnarly place to work. What does she do?”
“Product testing. Tasting Department.”
“What a disgusting job.”
“Somebody has to do it.”
“Glad it’s not me, boy.”
“But I do assume you have some kind of job to do? Like fixing our lines?”
“I’m off. I’ll be in touch—if possible.” Peter Abbott laughed and left, jingling. He walked into a moving patch of light in the middle of the lobby and the light disappeared, taking him with it.
The console began to beep.
“Frequent and Vigorous,” Lenore said.
He sighed. “Two unmarried girls, in distress, working in this tiny little office ...”
“Women,” Candy Mandible corrected.
“I’m not married either,” Judith Prietht called over. Judith Prietht was about fifty.
“Groovy,” said Peter Abbott.
“So can Bambi and Big Bob and all the others even get any calls, now?” Lenore asked. “Do their phones ring at all?”
“Sometimes, sometimes not,” Peter Abbott said, jingling his belt. “The point is they can’t be sure where it’ll ring, and neither can you, which is obviously subpar service. Your number’s not picking you out of the network like it should, it’s as we say picking out a target set and not a target.”
“Lovely. ”
“At least now you’ll have some calls to answer,” said Judith Prietht. “All you ever get is wrong numbers anyway. You guys are going to go bankrupt. Who ever heard of a publishing house in Cleveland?”
“I like your shoes,” Peter Abbott said to Lenore. “I got some shoes just like that.”
“Does Rick know about all this?” Lenore asked Candy.
Candy stopped. “Rick. Lenore, call him right away.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Who knows what’s ever the matter. All I know is first he just had a complete spasm about your not being here. This was at like ten-o-one. And then now he keeps calling down all the time, to see if you’re here yet. He keeps pretending it’s different people asking for you, holding his nose, putting a hankie over the phone, trying this totally pitiful English accent, pretending it’s outside calls for you, which he should know I can tell it isn’t because he knows the way the console light flashes all fast when they’re in-house calls. God knows he spends enough time down here. And now he hasn’t come down for his paper, even, he’s just sitting up there brooding, playing with his hat.”
“What else does he have to do?” said Judith Prietht, who was unwrapping wax paper from a sandwich and blinking coquettishly at Peter Abbott, who was in turn trying to stare down over the counter into Lenore’s cleavage.
“God, well I really need to talk to him, too,” said Lenore.
“Sweetie, I forgot for a second. How just totally horrible. You must be out of your head. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I think so. Vern’ll be in at six. I’ll call Rick as soon as I can. I have to call my father, too. And his lawyer.”
“I sense something in the wind,” said Peter Abbott.
“You hush,” said Candy Mandible. She squeezed Lenore’s arm as she passed. “I’m late. I have to go. You come home tonight, hear?”
“I’ll call and let you know,” Lenore said.
“What, you guys are roommates?” Peter Abbott asked.
“Partners in crime,” Judith Prietht snorted.
“Lucky room, is all I can say.”
“Let’s just have a universal dropping dead, except for Lenore,” said Candy. She walked off across the marble lobby floor into the moving blackness.
“She’s got another job?” Peter Abbott asked.
“Yes.” The console beeped. “Frequent and Vigorous.”
“Where at?”
Lenore held up a finger for him to wait while she dealt with somebody wanting to price a set of radials. “Over at Allied Sausage Casings, in East Corinth?” she said when she’d released.
“What a gnarly place to work. What does she do?”
“Product testing. Tasting Department.”
“What a disgusting job.”
“Somebody has to do it.”
“Glad it’s not me, boy.”
“But I do assume you have some kind of job to do? Like fixing our lines?”
“I’m off. I’ll be in touch—if possible.” Peter Abbott laughed and left, jingling. He walked into a moving patch of light in the middle of the lobby and the light disappeared, taking him with it.
The console began to beep.
“Frequent and Vigorous,” Lenore said.
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