Something Stupid

I've been going through some older stuff and came across one I never used. Thought I'd put it out there.

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Something Stupid

Betty flipped the switch on the office intercom and made an inquiry.

“Excuse me, Mr. Danger.”

“Yeah, Betty?”

“You made a crack to me this morning.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. But I hadn’t had my coffee yet, and now my caffeine jitters is setting off fireworks of resentment.”

“What crack are we talking about?”

“The crack about how lucky I am to be here with you.”

“Well, Betty, what I meant was, if you weren’t here with me you’d be out walking the streets.”

“What was that?”

“Let me reel that one back in. What I mean is, if it wasn’t for me, you’d be out walking the streets looking for employment and maybe end up with some lug who doesn’t treat you like you were put together with gold dust.”

“Oh, yeah? And if it wasn’t for me picking up your drunken carcass that one steamy afternoon in May of 1945 at Delaney’s you’d be walking the streets in cardboard shoes with a for sale sign on your fedora.”

“I was celebrating VE-Day! It ain’t everyday a war gets ended.”

“I don’t remember seeing any stars and strips in those eyes of yours. All I saw was bloodshot and tears when your nickel-beer money ran out. And since your Aunt Mildred’s inheritance money ran out I notice you’ve only got eyes for me and purse strings.”

“Ah, don’t get mad, Betty. And don’t mention that inheritance again. The walls around here have ears bigger than the ones on Mount Rushmore. If these tenants ever got a whiff a me having dough stashed away they’d be lining up outside my door looking for handouts. Before you know it I’m back home with my ma, sucking my thumb and waiting to be fed. Then she’d be tucking me in and giving me some warm-hearted words of wisdom, If you dare leave that bed before I get home from the pub, your next bed will be in Sing Sing. Which is where all bad boys go who don’t listen to their mothers! I live with that dream every night, Betty.”

“You’re also living a dream full of thuggish mugs and derring-do heroics. Only it’s all played out in your head. But what’s in your head ain’t winning no detective of the year awards. Detective of the year awards get won by detectives who are in the business of rustling up paying clients—and what’s this about you having dough stashed away? You said it was gone. I haven’t been paid in three weeks.”

“Oh, never mind that for now.”

“For now, Mr. Danger, but in the future I’ll stepping in to set things straight.”

“Stepping in?” said Craven. “Bulldozing is more like it.”

“Then bulldozing it is. I’ll gotta lay it on the line, Mr. Danger. We’re not getting anywhere the way we’ve been going. We get up in the morning and come to work. Well, I come in to work, you wake up fully dressed on the office sofa and slouch over to the toilet. Then I come in with coffee and donuts. I see you standing in the toilet with your mug buried in a sink full of icy cold water. I leave you your breakfast and think about tying your shoelaces together. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. Then I go back to my desk and wait for you to say something stupid. I don’t wait long.”

“You’re the one that’s been tying my shoelaces together?”

“Like I said, I don’t wait long. Now, about that money you got stashed away . . .”