A Commodore of Errors by John Jacobson Read Free Book Online Page B

there, okay? But when it’s up, I’m huge. Huge.”
    â€œYou are, babe.” Mitzi stroked Mogie’s hair while he obsessed over Johnson’s johnson. Men. If they weren’t obsessing over their virility, they were obsessing over money.
    â€œWe’ve got him,” Mogie said. “There’s no way they can’t fire the guy. After the flap the Air Force Academy had, there’s no way the government wants another sex scandal at one of its military academies, see what I mean?”
    â€œI couldn’t believe he pulled it out when I was at my desk. One minute I’m working, ya know?” Mitzi snapped her gum. “And the next minute the creep ispulling out his schlong in front of me.” Mitzi laughed. “It was pretty big though, I gotta admit.”
    â€œI’m bigger, baby. When it’s up, I’m bigger.”
    â€œI know, babe,” Mitzi said. Bigger. Mogie was always trying to be bigger. Mitzi knew that Mogie’s father called him “Little Guy” and that Mogie hated him for it. When he became mayor, his father went around saying, “Can you believe the little guy is mayor?” Mogie was always reaching for more and it made Mitzi nervous. On the one hand, she was attracted to men like Mogie because they reminded her of her father. But on the other hand, she wanted to turn and run the other way, too . . . because they reminded her of her father. Men were complicated, at least for her they were.
    â€œAnyway,” Mitzi said, “it’s a good thing my camera was right there.”
    â€œIt’s almost too good to be true, baby,” Mogie said. “Think about it. We’ve got a picture of Johnson in his office holding onto to his johnson.”
    Mitzi nodded her head. “I think we nailed him, babe.”
    Mogie got up and stalked around the room. “I’m on to something, Mitzi. I’m on to something, see what I mean?” He stopped pacing and turned to face Mitzi. “I was just thinking. The Commodore didn’t help us at all here—you got the picture all on your own—so why should we cut him in on the deal, see what I mean?”
    â€œWho’s gonna be the admiral then if not the Commodore? He’s next in line ya know, or so he says.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Mogie said. “I just never liked the idea of going into business with a WASP. I’d sure like to get a nice Jew in there as admiral. Someone who talks the same language.”
    â€œThere aren’t too many Jews at the academy,” Mitzi said. “Some of the professors are, a few administrators. But most of ‘em are dopey WASPs.”
    â€œI know,” Mogie said. “I gotta think about it some more.”
    â€œOh my god,” Mitzi said, “look at the time. We gotta get out of here. Without those damn Martinizing machines going, Putzie’ll hear us up here.”
    Mogie and Mitzi were in their “love shack,” an apartment above the Great Neck Martinizing Dry Cleaners. Mogie rented it out from the owner of the dry cleaners, Ira Paultz. They knew each other since they were kids growing upin Great Neck. In fact, Mogie was the one who gave Ira Paultz the nickname Putzie. Putzie, who also happened to be Mitzi’s husband, was a creature of habit. He Martinized every day between 10 am and 1 pm with Raymond, his Filipino helper, a man who Putzie said was the best Martinizer in all of New York. At exactly one o’clock every day, they turned off the Martinizing machines and took a lunch of cucumber sandwiches on white bread. Putzie said the cucumbers were good for his colon. They ate their lunch together, then Putzie took an hour nap on the cot in his office in the back of the cleaners and Raymond took over the cash register so Mrs. Tannenbaume, who worked the register from ten to one every day, could go home. Putzie wanted Mitzi to work the register, but Mitzi hated the goddamn dry