sk.cujo-第15节

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　to　the　same　place　after　they　had　made　their　pickup。　Thank　you；　thank　you；　blahdeblah；　bullshitbullshit。　There　would　be　some　inconvenience；　but　no　real　hassle。
Steve　dropped　the　letters　into　the　mailbox。　There　was　that　satisfied　feeling　of　having　his　ass　well　covered。　He　drove　away　toward　Portland；　singing　along　with　the　Grateful　Dead；　who　were　delivering　'Sugaree。'　He　pushed　the　van　up　to　fifty…five；　hoping　traffic　would　stay　light　so　he　could　get　to　Portland　early　enough　to　grab　a　court　at　Tennis　of　Maine。　All　in　all；　it　looked　like　a　good　day。　If　Mr。　Businessman　hadn't　received　his　little　letter　bomb　yet；　he　surely　would　today。　Nifty；　Steve　thought；　and　burst　out　laughing。
At　half　past　seven；　as　Steve　Kemp　was　thinking　Tennis　and　Vic　Trenton　was　reminding　himself　to　call　Joe　Camber　about　his　wife's　balky　Pinto；　Charity　Camber　was　fixing　her　son's　breakfast。　Joe　had　left　for　Lewiston　half　an　hour　ago；　hoping　to　find　a　'72　Camaro　windshield　at　one　of　the　city's　automobile　junkyards　or　used…parts　outfits。　This　jibed　well　with　Charity's　plans；　which　she　had　made　slowly　and　carefully。
She　put　Brett's　plate　of　scrambled　eggs　and　bacon　in　front　of　him　and　then　sat　down　next　to　the　boy。　Brett　glanced　up　from　the　book　he　was　reading　in　mild　surprise。　After　fixing　his　breakfast；　his　mother　usually　started　on　her　round　of　morning　chores。　If　you　spoke　to　her　too　much　before　she　got　herself　around　a　second　cup　of　coffee；　she　was　apt　to　show　you　the　rough　side　of　her　tongue。
'Can　I　talk　to　you　a　minute；　Brett？'
Mild　surprise　turned　to　something。　like　amazement。　Looking　at　her；　he　saw　something　utterly　foreign　to　his　mother's　taciturn　nature。　She　was　nervous。　He　closed　his　book　and　said；　'Sure；　Mom。'
'Would　you　like…'　She　cleared　her　throat　and　began　again。　'How　would　you　like　to　go　down　to　Stratford；　Connecticut；　and　see　your　Aunt　Holly　and　your　Uncle　Jim？　And　your　cousins？'
Brett　grinned。　He　had　only　been　out　of　Maine　twice　in　his　life；　most　recently　with　his　father　on　a　trip　to　Portsmouth；　New　Hampshire。　They　had　gone　to　a　used…car　auction　where　Joe　had　picked　up　a　'58　Ford　with　a　hemi　engine。　'Sure！'　he　said。　'When？'
'I　was　thinking　of　Monday；'　she　said。　'After　the　weekend　of　the　Fourth。　We'd　be　gone　a　week。　Could　you　do　that？'
'I　guess！　jeez；　I　thought　Dad　had　a　lot　of　work　lined　up　for　next　week。　He　must　have　…'
'I　haven't　mentioned　this　to　your　father　yet。'
Brett's　grin　fell　apart。　He　picked　up　a　piece　of　bacon　and　began　to　eat　it。　'Well；　I　know　he　promised　Richie　Simms　he'd　pull　the　motor　on　his　International　Harvester。　And　Mr。　Miller　from　the　school　was　gonna　bring　over　his　Ford　because　the　tranny's　shot。　And　…'
'I　thought　just　the　two　of　us　would　go；'　Charity　said。　'On　the　Greyhound　from　Portland。'
Brett　looked　doubtful。　Outside　the　back…porch　screen；　Cujo　padded　slowly　up　the　steps　and　collapsed　onto　the　boards　in　the　shade　with　a　grunt。　He　looked　in　at　THE　BOY　and　THE　WOMAN　With　weary；　red…rimmed　eyes。　He　was　feeling　very　bad　now；　very　bad　indeed。
'Jeez；　Mom；　I　don't　know　…'
'Don't　say　jeez。　It's　just　the　same　as　swearing。'
'Sorry。'
'Would　you　like　to　go？　If　your　father　said　it　was　all　right？'
'Yeah；　really！　Do　you　really　think　we　could？'
'Maybe。'　She　was　looking　out　through　the　window　over　the　sink　thoughtfully。
'How　far　is　it　to　Stratford；　Mom？'
'About　three　hundred　and　fifty　miles；　I　guess。'
'Jee　…　I　mean；　boy；　that's　a　long　way。　Is　it
'Brett。'
He　looked　at　her　attentively。　That　curious　intense　quality　was　back　in　her　voice　and　on　her　face。　That　nervousness。
'What；　Mom？'
'Can　you　think　of　anything　your　father　needs　out　in　the　shop？　Any　one　thing　he's　been　looking　to　get？'
The　fight　dawned　in　Brett's　eyes　a　little。　'Well；　he　always　needs　adjustable　wrenches　。。。　and　he's　been　wanting　a　new　set　of　ball…and…sockets　。。。　and　he　could　use　a　new　welder's　helmet　since　the　old　one　got　a　crack　in　the　faceplate
'No；　I　mean　anything　big。　Expensive。'
Brett　thought　awhile；　then　smiled。　'Well；　what　he'd　really　like　to　have　is　a　new　Jorgen　chainfall；　I　guess。　Rip　that　old　motor　out　of　Richie　Simms's　International　just　as　slick　as　sh　…well；　slick。'　He　blushed　and　hurried　on。　'But　you　couldn't　get　him　nothing　like　that；　Mom。　That's　really　dear。'
Dear。　Joe's　word　for　expensive。　She　hated　it。
'How　much？'
'Well；　the　one　in　the　catalogue　says　seventeen　hundred　dollars；　but　Dad　could　probably　get　it　from　Mr。　Belasco　at　Portland　Machine　for　wholesale。　Dad　says　Mr。　Belasco's　scared　of　him。'
'Do　you　think　there's　something　smart　about　that？'　she　asked　sharply。
Brett　sat　back　in　his　chair；　a　little　frightened　by　her　fierceness。　He　couldn't　remember　his　mother　ever　acting　quite　like　this。　Even　Cujo；　out　on　the　porch；　pricked　his　ears　a　little。
'Well？　Do　you？'
'No；　Mom；'　he　said；　but　Charity　knew　in　a　despairing　way　that　he　was　lying。　If　you　could　scare　somebody　into　giving　you　wholesale；　you　were　trading　a　right　smart。　She　had　heard　the　admiration　in　Brett's　voice；　even　if　the　boy　himself　had　not。　Wants　to　be　just　like　him。　Thinks　his　daddy　is　just　standing　tall　when　he　scares　someone。　Oh　my　God。
'There's　nothing　smart　about　being　able　to　scare　people；'
Charity　said。　'All　it　takes　is　a　big　voice　and　a　mean　disposition。　There's　no　smart　to　it。'　She　lowered　her　voice　and　flapped　a　hand　at　him。　'Go　on　and　cat　your　eggs。　I'm　not　going　to　shout　at　you。　I　guess　it's　the　heat。'
He　ate；　but　quietly　and　carefully；　looking　at　her　now　and　then。　There　were　hidden　mines　around　this　morning。
'What　would　wholesale　be；　I　wonder？　Thirteen　hundred　dollars？　A　thousand？'
'I　don't　know；　Mamma。'
'Would　this　Belasco　deliver？　On　a　big　order　like　that？'
'Ayuh；　I　guess　he　would。　If　we　had　that　kind　of　money。'
Her　hand　went　to　the　pocket　of　her…　housedress。　The　lottery　ticket　was　there。　The　green　number　on　her　ticket；　76；　and　the　red　number；　434；　matched　the　numbers　drawn　by　the　State　Lottery　mission　two　weeks　before。　She　had　checked　it　dozens　of　times；　unable　to　believe　it。　She　had　invested　fifty　cents　that　week；　as　she　had　done　every　week　since　the　lottery　began　in　1975；　and　this　time　she　had　'won　five　thousand　dollars。　She　hadn't　cashed　the　ticket　in　yet；　but　neither　had　she　let　it　out　of　her　sight　or　her　reach　since　she　found　out。
'We　do　have　that　kind　of　money；'　she　said。　Brett　goggled　at　her。
At　quarter　past　ten；　Vic　slipped　out　of　his　Ad　Worx　office　and　went　around　to　Bentley's　for　his　morning　coffee；　unable　to　face　the　bitch's　brew　that　was　available　at　the　office。　He　had　spent　the　morning　writing　ads　for　Decoster　Egg　Farms。　It　was　hard　going。　He　had　hated　eggs　since　his　boyhood；　when　his　mother　grimly　forced　one　down　his　throat　four　days　a　week。　The　best　he　had　been　able　to　e　up　with　so　far　was　EGGS　SAY　LOVE　。。。　SEAMLESSLY。　Not　very　good。　Seamlessly　had　given　him　the　idea　of　a　trick　photo　which　would　show　an　egg　with　a　zipper　running　around　it's　middle。　It　was　a　good　image；　but　where　did　it　lead？　Noplace　that　he　had　been　able　to　discover。　Ought　to　ask　the　Tadder；　he　thought；　as　the　waitress　brought　him　coffee　and　a　blueberry　muffin。　Tad　liked　eggs。
It　wasn't　really　the　egg　ad　that　was　bringing　him　down；　of　course。　It　has　having　to　take　off　for　twelve　days。　Well；　it　had　to　be。　Roger　had　convinced　him　of　that。　They　would　have　to　get　in　there　and　pitch　like　hell。
Good　old　garrulous　Roger；　whom　Vic　loved　almost　like　a　brother。　Roger　would　have　been　more　than　glad　to　cruise　down　here　to　Bentley's　with　him；　to　have　a　coffee　with　him；　and　to　talk　his　ear　off。　But　this　one　time；　Vic　needed　to　be　alone。　To　think。　The　two　of　them　would　be　spending　most　of　two　weeks　together　starting　Monday；　sweating　it　out；　and　that　was　quite　enough；　even　for　soul　brothers。
His　mind　turned　toward　the　Red　Razberry　Zingers　fiasco　again；　and　he　let　it；　knowing　that　sometimes　a　no…pressure；　almost　idle　review　of　a　bad　situation　could~　for　him；　at　least　…result　in　some　new　insight；　a　fresh　angle。
What　had　happened　was　bad　enough；　and　Zingers　had　been　withdrawn　from　the　market。　Bad　enough；　but　not　terrible。　It　wasn't　like　that　canned　mushroom　thing；　no　one　had　gotten　sick　or　died；　and　even　consumers　realized　that　a　pany　could　take　a　pratfall　now　and　then。　Look　at　that　…McDonald's　glass　giveaway　a　couple…three　years　ago。　The　paint　on　the　glasses　had　been　found　to　contain　an　unacceptably　high　lead　content。　The　glasses　had　been　withdrawn　quickly；　consigned　to　that　promotional　limbo　inhabited　by　creatures　such　as　Speedy　AlkaSeltzer　and　Vic's　own　personal　favorite；　Big　Dick　Chewing　Gum。
The　glasses　had　been　bad　for　the　McDonald's　Corporation；　but　no　one　had　accused　Ronald　McDonald　of　trying　to　poison　his　pre…teen　constituency。　And　no　one　had　actually　accused　the　Sharp　Cereal　Professor　either；　although　edians　from　Bob　Hope　to　Steve　Martin　had　taken　potshots　at　him；　and　johnny　Carson　had　run　off　an　entire　monologue　…　couched　in　careful　double　entendre　…　about　the　Red　Razberry　Zingers　affair　one　evening　during　his　opening　spot　on　The　Tonight　Show。　Needless　to　say；　the　Sharp
Cereal　Professor　ads　had　been　jerked　from　the　tube。　Also　needless　to　say；　the　character　actor　who　played　the　Professor　was　wild　at　the　way　events　had　turned　on　him。
I　could　imagine　a　worse　situation；　Roger　had　said　after　the　first　shock　waves　had　subsided　a　bit　and　the　thrice…daily　long…distance　call