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