SUPERWORM
181
man that is struggling to rise above the - he call it - crass material–
ism of our age. Undefined. Only a breath, perhaps, of the fresh air
from his country boyhood: haystacks, and pigs, cows, manure, pitch–
forks, old barns full of rats, corncribs. . . . The professor's idea of
country life is rather vague, comes from
Sat Eve Post
covers mostly.
"Selling is like shaving," the fat man says, "if you don't do
it
every
day, you're a bum."
The customer
in
the first chair by the window, who until then
had been only fingers around the edge of the financial pages of
The
New York Times,
peered out now over the top of the paper and
scowled from under his brows.
His
barber is stropping a razor beside
the chair - a fluffy little man with a modest wen behind his left ear.
The
Times
speaks a word about "Stimulate the economy" or "Balance
of payments." The professor does not understand in terms of eco–
nomics. He know moral, though. Man, he dig in the tune of ethics.
And he squeeze the barber's arm. Who looks at him ferociously and
snaps the scissors so close to his ear that he winces before he smiles.
In disguise now. Wince and smile. The Worm he is not yet ready
to turn. We'll smile awhile, then we'll rise up and shave thcir arro–
gant heads - all the barbers, dentists, generals, Presidents in the land,
all those who so arrogantly support this injustice. This horror! Open
your noses, citizens! Open your noses and smell the horror that sur–
rounds you!
The salesman flexed his chins and the red rings that made up
what he had of a neck and he said,
"It
is business made this country
great, sir, and don't you forget it. Henery the Eigh th he didn't have
the convenience myoid lady's got."
The professor look down. He look down cross-eye pass his nose,
seeing what he could see. He could see the white. Oh, he do see the
white nose. But soon he gone see the black nose of the cowled
crime fighter.
If
they persist in their arrogant folly, they will suffer.
The pimpled boy, who
is
reading the girlie magazines while
waiting for his turn, folds the center spread back into
Playboy
and
says something about not even Louis the Fourteen didn't have a Play–
boy bed,
which
has a radio and a phonograph and a toaster and a
coffeepot on it. Also a TV. "I have one of those Playboy beds, I'd
make out like a bandit." He improvises on the theme: "What d' ya
wanna bet she had lice, Marie Antoinette?"
