Page 96 - The Myth and the Moment

Evening

future as a cat-burglar. Heart pounding drowns out sounds the
footpad ear has got to hear. Look at that: left the sliding glass doors
open; just locked the screens, no doubt. Stupid house not built for
climate, overheats in summer, underheats in winter. There’s that
fancy carpeting and foolish artwork and flimsy furniture on the
living-room floor. What pretension! Bet it would all go up in flames
like old newspapers.
Noise! Better duck behind the pump housing! What was that? An
owl? Some sort of bird on Phil’s TV antenna. Well, well: what have
we here? A brand new crescent wrench. Must be what Phil was using
when he screwed up his backwash this morning. The instrument of
my downfall, perhaps. I’d like to bash in his—wait a minute. Yeah.
This is it. Just very slowly, very firmly, turn on the water going into
the pool. Yeah. Now it’s on full blast, silently raising the level, inch
by inch. It’s really a shame Phil let so much evaporate away during
the hot spell; now I’ll have to help him. Another turn and—oh, dear.
Broke the valve. Now he won’t be able to turn it off. Hee-hee-hee!
Time to go. Bet this wrench is also his only means of turning off
the water coming in from the main. Oops. Dropped the wrench over
the fence. Tough luck, buddy. In about five minutes that living room
ought to be flooded. Maybe another five or ten before it’s up high
enough for osmosis to get them wet under their silk sheets. All very
slowly and quietly, not like the madcap bucket brigade of the
sorcerer’s apprentice sloshing water all over the place. Close the gate,
Mr. Pool Man, another satisfied customer satisfied to be a customer.
Walk down to Sunset? Not again. Those cops will blow me away on
sight. Phil’s car. Why not? Don’t have the keys, and there’s no time to
hot-wire, but the door’s unlocked now, and it’s pointing downhill.
Yeah.
Okay. Manual transmission. Power brakes? No matter, I’ll pop the
clutch once I’m rolling and the transmission can take the strain. And
away we go! Great: not a sound, nobody else on the street. Damn!
Where is first gear? Should be over—aghh, what a noise! Must have
stripped a bit of reverse there; Phil’s going to need a new gearbox—
at least. Whoa! Took that turn too fast, got to slow down more.
Pump those brakes, Evangelino! Down and down we go, round and
round we go—how’s that old song go? Boy, this is great fun, a real
adrenaline rush. Hmm. Plenty of action down on Sunset, even on

95