Page 29 - The Gluckman Occasional Number Three

“Come in. Quickly.” He hustled them in and closed the door. The
living room atmosphere lacked oxygen but not a miasma of fried
onions and coffee grounds.
“Where is it?”
A couple of the tourists looked around, bewildered, but Holly
silently handed Lebec an envelope. He ripped it open, riffled the
paper currency within, and shoved it in a back pocket. “Goddamn
Safeway,” he muttered. “Just raised the heavy duty fifteen cents a roll.
I want more next time.” Then he stood motionless, again scrutinizing
his guests disconcertingly.
“Yes, well, Alfonse,” said Holly, in the calm measured tones one
uses to address a listener more likely to be swayed by emotion than
reason, “these people are all fascinated by the work you are doing. I
wonder if you could show us some of your latest projects.”
“All right. The aluminum reserves in the United States stand today
at seven thousand metric tons. When the government can no longer
keep the z-ray disaster hidden, and the people learn that all their
precious possessions will soon be disintegrating without proper
protection, then we’ll see panic buying, chaos on the futures markets,
empty shelves in the shops. But for now, as I have no other source of
income, I will share my secret with you people—you, who must be of
higher-than-average intelligence to realize the danger.”
The polite smiles on the visitors’ lips began congealing.
“Look in here.” He led them to a bedroom door. “I have almost
finished this closet.” They filed in, crowding around the bed and
television table. Everything in the room was wrapped in aluminum
foil: large and small, oblong and spherical, attached to the wall and
stacked on the meticulously foil-wrapped dresser. Lebec had set up
his workbench in one corner, next to the open sliding door of a
closet. His work in progress was a well-worn pair of work boots. The
left was already wrapped, the right lying on its side with laces tightly
pulled and tucked behind the desiccated tongue.
“That’s amazing,” gushed Holly. “When I was here last week, you
were still working on the clock radio.” Heads swiveled and eyes
focused on the totally encased appliance on the nightstand. “It really
is a shame more people cannot view these unique masterpieces.”
“This is my stuff. You can go wrap your own.” Lebec’s warbling
alto took on an edge. “And keep your hands to yourself, if you know
what’s good for you.”