Alien Accounts by John Sladek Read Free Book Online

some of his coffee dribbled off the point of his chin.
    Section IX: The Theological Virtues
     
    Division A: Faith
    It soon became apparent to all that Harold was going to get the shitty end of the stick.
    ‘Did you even ask him for the money?’ asked Ed.
    ‘Well – no. How can I? He’ll think I don’t trust him.’
    ‘Do you trust him?’
    ‘Of course I do. Heck, he’s the
boss
. Our lives are in his keeping, so to speak. Our names are in his book. He gives us each payday our wages. How can we turn against him? The pen is mightier than the sword.’
    ‘But if you trust him, what have you got to gripe about?’
    Harold, descended of a flawed monk, pondered this point of faith. ‘It isn’t the money, you understand. Heck, I don’t care if I never see that ten again.’
    ‘What is it then?’
    ‘It’s just that I trust him, and now he’s going to betray that trust. He’s going to welsh on me.’
    ‘Maybe he just forgot,’ Karl purred, showing his little nasty teeth.
    ‘Oh sure. He forgets, and I never see my money again. You can be sure
he
wouldn’t forget it if
I
owed
him
ten dollars.’
    Clark made a diplomatic suggestion. ‘Look, just ask him if you can borrow ten from him. If he’s forgotten about the loan, it’ll remind him of it, and if he’s planned on welshing, he’ll be caught out ashamed. Besides, this way he’ll know you need the money right away.’
    Division B: Hope
    Harold accosted Mr. Masterson. ‘Sir, could I borrow ten from you till payday? Heh, heh, I’m a little short, at the moment.’
    The bulging figure turned slowly with the dignity of a wagon train, and faced him. For over a minute, Masterson subjected Harold to an intense stare of scorn and disbelief. Then he sighed and pulled out his billfold. Harold sighed, too.
    ‘I wish you’d learn to live within your means, Kelmscott. I’m not a loan company. Now I’m going to loan you this, but it’s the last time, understand?’ The hinged glasses beetled over him.
    ‘But I do live within my means, sir,’ Harold stammered. ‘It’s not me who has weekends in Boston with a girl.’
    The pale eyes did not register anything. Masterson sighed again, heaving his big, flabby shoulders. ‘I’m not interested in nasty details of your personal life, Kelmscott. If you can’t live on what I pay you, maybe you’d better look elsewhere for a job.’ With a snort of disgust, he peeled a ten from his thick bundle of large bills and slapped it on Harold’s desk. Then he stalked off to his office to throw, presumably, knives.
    Division C: Charity
    Every time an object hit the wall, Willard jumped. ‘Oh God,’ he moaned.‘I just know he’s got some big, mean-lookin’ knives in there.’
    From time to time, Willard got out his own knife and tested the action. It was never fast enough to suit him.
    At lunch, Henry asked Art about the pink slips. Did he ever warn anyone they were about to be fired?
    The old man stopped masticating. ‘Sir, watch your tongue. The job of firing is a sacred trust. My son, Mr. Masterson, has entrusted me with the care of and disbursement of those pink slips, and of the persons they represent. Do you think I could let him down? My own son?’
    Drawing himself up, Art for the moment resembled a famous general, and his thin chest seemed even to fill out the folds of his new coat.
    ‘Besides,’ he added with a wheeze. ‘I like to watch a man’s face when he opens his envelope. Boy, he sees those streets, those employment offices, even soup lines, hee hee hee …’ His laughter turned to a fit of dry coughing.
    Section X: A High Office
     
    That afternoon, Mr. Masterson called Henry into his office. None of the clerks but Art had ever been there before, and Art had forgotten what it was like. Rod and Bob looked envious of Henry, but Karl smirkingly assumed he was being
given the axe
.
    ‘If you want my opinion,’ he said, ‘I think you’re going to be quietly
axed
to leave. Ha!’
    Willard drew him