Chapter 9 7

"Hey, kid, do you want to go grocery shopping with me and then lunch at Mario's?" Ted stood up: "Good! Good!" "Come on, then." She was wearing jeans and a faded shirt with a bag over her shoulder.She looks so pretty, Tad thought.He was relieved that there was no trace of a tear on her face, and when she cried, he cried too, and he knew only very young children did that, but he couldn't help himself. She was at the wheel when he approached the car.It occurred to him that something was wrong with her Pinto. "Mommy?" "What? Come in."

But he drew back a little, a little scared: "Will the car break down?" "A glitch—" She looked at him, confused. From her annoyed expression, he could see that she had forgotten that the car was in trouble, and his words reminded her.She wasn't too happy, was it the Pinto's fault, or his?He didn't know it, but a sense of guilt told him it was his.But then her face opened up and she smiled at him with a slanted mouth, and he knew she was only smiling for him, and he felt better. "We're going to town, Ted's Land, and if Mama's old blue Pinto breaks there, we'll just take a cab back from Castle Rock for two bucks, you know?"

"Oh, that's fine." He got into the car and slammed the door shut. She watched him intently, ready to rush over at any moment. Ted knew she was thinking about last Christmas.Last Christmas, Ted clamped his foot while going out and had to spend a month in bandages afterwards.He was just a baby then, and now he's four, a big boy, and he knows that because Dad told him so.He smiled at his mother, letting her know the door would no longer be a problem, and she smiled back at him. "Is the door closed?" "Shut tight," Thad said affirmatively, so she opened and slammed the door, because unless you tell the mothers you've done something bad, like knocking over a bag of sugar while reaching for the peanut oil, or trying to put A rock smashed a windowpane while going up the garage roof, or they would never have believed you.

"Put on your seatbelt," she said, adding, "When the needle valve or something goes wrong, the car bounces hard." Teidegen was obedient, he buckled his seat belt, and he really hoped nothing like the ten-truck sweep would happen.He hoped that his mother would not cry. "Drop the drag plate?" she asked, adjusting the invisible goggles. "Drop the drag plate," he agrees, grinning, a game they've played. "Is the runway clear?" "Clear." "Let's go." She turned on the ignition and backed out of the driveway.After a while, they headed for the town.

After driving a mile they all relaxed.Before that, Donna was sitting upright at the wheel, and Tad was sitting nervously in the passenger compartment.But the Pinto is smooth, like it just came off the production line the day before. They went to the Agarwi market, and Donna bought forty dollars, enough to last ten days without Vic.At Ted's insistence, they bought a new box of "Blink," and if Donna let him go, he'd ask for another Cocoa Bear.They usually receive Sharp cereals on a regular basis, but have recently been out of stock.It was a busy shopping trip, but as she stood in the checkout aisle (Ted was sitting in the baby seat of the trolley, swinging his legs nonchalantly), she still had time to ache to think about what she would use for these days. How much do these three packages cost?She wasn't just depressed, she was terrified.For she had begun to think that there was a fair chance—probability, her mind whispered—that Vic and Roger would lose Billing Sharpe and, as a result, Worx Corporation itself.Compared with daily necessities, the price is many times higher.

She noticed also approaching a fat woman in chartreuse trousers with patches at the back, and as she walked she pulled a stack of food stamps from her handbag.Donna saw the lady at the cash register turn her head to one side to look at the other lady at the counter, and it gave her a sudden sting of rat-tooth panic gnawing at her stomach.It couldn't be that way, it couldn't be, it couldn't be, of course not.They'll go back to New York first, they'll— She didn't like the speed of her thoughts, and before they avalanche-like development almost buried her in another depression, she resolutely pushed the heavy weight out of her heart.Next time she doesn't have to buy coffee, it will cost her three dollars more.

She wheeled Tad and the groceries out of the store and to the Pinto.She put the grocery bag in the back of the car, put Tad in the passenger compartment, and stood aside until she heard the door lock snap shut.She wanted to let her do it, but knew that it should be done by Tad himself, and the older children should do it themselves. She nearly had a heart attack when Ted's foot broke through the door last December.how she screamed!She almost fainted... At that time, Vic had a family, and he rushed out of the house in his clothes, stepping barefoot on the muck of the vegetable channel, and the muck flew out like two fans.She let him take care of this matter, a man should be able to handle it, she has never encountered this before.In an emergency, she'd just mess things up; he checked to make sure Tad's foot wasn't broken, and changed quickly.Drive Ted to the emergency room at Bridgeton Hospital.

The food bag is ready.Ted sat down too, and she sat down at the steering wheel and started the Pinto.Now it's probably over, she thought, but the Pinto meekly drove on to Mario's Coffee.Mario serves delicious pizza with enough calories to fill all the tires of a heavy log truck.Her merging technique was passable, and the car was parked only seven or eight inches from the stop. Donna felt better when she took Ted into the coffee shop, maybe Vic was wrong, maybe the gas was bad, or there was something dirty in the fuel line, which has now been drained with the car running , She wasn't going to Joe Campbell's repair garage, which was out in the middle of nowhere (Vic called it East Overlatch Corner with a great sense of humour--but of course he could have a good sense of humor, He's a man), too far away, and she was a little afraid of Campbell once she met him.He was a typical New Englander living in a remote rural area, who only muttered and had a gloomy face.And that dog... what's his name?A bit Spanish... Cujo, yes.William Wolfe of the Masonic Liberation Army used that name, Donna couldn't believe that Joe Camber would name his dog after an extremist who robbed banks and kidnapped rich young heiresses, and she suspected Joe Camber Has Bo ever heard of the Masonic Liberation Army?The dog seemed friendly, but she was nervous when she saw Tad photograph the monster—as tense as she was when she stood by and watched Chinde close the car door himself.Cujo looked so big, he could have eaten Ted in two bites.

Donna ordered Ted a warm pastrami sandwich, since he wasn't too fond of pizza—the kid certainly didn't like things from my side of the house, she thought, and she herself ordered spiced pepperoni and bruschetta. Double Cheese Onion Pizza Speaks.They sat at a table near the window and ate together.I'm breathing hard enough to overwhelm a horse, she thought, but immediately realized that it didn't matter, she was far away from her husband and the man who had been around so often for the past six weeks. It made the depression linger on her again, and she forced it back again...but her shoulders were getting a little tired.

They were almost home, and Springsteen was playing on the radio.At this time, the Pinto car started again. It was just a small jump at first, then a bigger one.She tapped the accelerator pedal lightly, which sometimes helps. "Mommy?" Tad asked, a little alarmed. "It'll be all right, Tad," she said, but it didn't help.The criminals began to jump hard, and the force pressed them against the seat belts with enough force to lock the buckles of the seat belts.The engine shook violently and made a loud noise.A bag in the back of the car tipped over, spilling bottles and cans.She heard something break.

"You bloody bitch!" she screamed, irritated.She could already see their house down the cliff, so close that she seemed to be mocking them, but she doubted Pinto would be able to take them up. Her yelling and the jerking of the car made Tad cry out in terror, which made her even more flustered, frustrated and annoyed. "Shut up!" she yelled at him. "Oh, God, shut up, Tad." He cried harder, and his hands reached into the bulging pocket behind his hip, where the Devil's Words were folded into a small ball.Touching it made him feel better.Not great, just better. Donna decided to pull over to the side of the road and pull over, there was nothing she could do.She began pulling the car over to the side of the road with the last bit of momentum it had left.They can use Ted's toy cart to haul food back to the house, and then decide what to do with the Pinto cart.Maybe-- Just as the Pinto's outer wheel sizzled over the curb gravel, the engine fired back twice, and the jump disappeared just as it had done the previous time, and the car settled down.After a while, they had driven onto the driveway and turned in.She parked the car, pulled the emergency brake, turned off the engine, leaned on the steering wheel and cried. "Mommy?" Ted said pitifully.don't cry anymore.He wanted to add this sentence, but nothing came out, he just opened his mouth and mouthed soundlessly, as if he had laryngitis and lost his voice.He looked at her, hoping to comfort her, but had no idea what to do.It was father's business to comfort her, not his. At this moment, he suddenly hated his father and went to other places. This deep hatred for his father shocked and frightened him again.For some unknown reason, he suddenly saw the door of the wardrobe in his room swing open, and darkness burst out, exuding oppression and pain. Donna looked up, her face swollen.She took a handkerchief out of her purse and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, baby, I didn't really mean to yell at you, I meant this... this thing." She slapped the steering wheel hard. "Oh!" She put the heel of her hand in her mouth and smiled a little.It's not a happy laugh. "I think there's still a glitch," Thad said sullenly. "I suppose so," she agreed, unable to help thinking of Vic. "Okay, let's move things in. We've got supplies at last," Kingfisher. " "Yes, fresh fish with one lip." He said, "I'll get the car." He brought the "Red Ball Flyer" down.After repacking the overturned bag, Donna stuffed the three bags into the cart.It was a ketchup bottle that broke, you've figured it out, haven't you?A half-bottle of Haynes sauce was thrown on the powder-blue suede blanket in the back of the car, as if someone had just committed seppuku on it.The dirtiest spots could probably be blotted up with a sponge, she thought, but the stains seemed indelible, and would be difficult to clean even with blanket detergent. She dragged the cart with difficulty into the kitchen, Tad pushing behind.She took out the bags one by one, and was considering whether to tidy up all the shopping first, or clean them up while the ketchup was still congealed, when the phone rang.Tad rushed over like a sprinter at the sound of a gunshot, already good at answering the phone. "Yes, who are you?" He listened, grinning through his mouth, and handed her the microphone. Who will it be?Some people, she thought, would chat on the phone for two hours with nothing to do.She asked Tad, "Do you know who it is, baby?" "Of course," he said, "it's Dad." Her heartbeat started to speed up.She took the phone from Ted. "How are you, Vic?" "Hello, Donna." It was his voice, so reserved...so careful, that gave her a first feeling of depression. "Are you all right?" she asked. "certainly. "I was thinking that even if you called, you wouldn't call now." "Ugh, we went straight to Mirror Sun Studios. They do all the live filming of Sharp Cereal, and guess what? They couldn't find the goddamn screen footage. Roger nearly pulled his hair out." "Yes," she nodded, "he hates not being able to finish the project, doesn't he?" "You're understatement." He sighed deeply, "So I just thought, when they're looking for..." His voice trailed off and became less audible, and her sense of despair—her sense of depression—that unpleasant, childishly passive feeling became a much more active feeling of fear.Vic never muffled his voice like this, even when he was disturbed by someone on his end of the line.She suddenly remembered how he looked last Thursday night, so embarrassed, so close to the edge of collapse. "Vic, are you okay?" She could hear the warning in her voice, and she knew he should, too.Tad looked up from the coloring book he was looking at, his eyes bright and a slight frown on his small forehead. "It's all right," he said. "I was just about to say I should call now. They're rummaging through boxes right now. If it's a little later this evening, I'm afraid they won't have time. How's Ted?" "He's fine." She gave Tad a smile and a wink at him.Tad smiled at her too, the lines between his brows unraveling, and he lowered his head to continue his coloring.His voice was tired, and I don't want to bring him the trouble of that car again, she thought, only then realized that the words had come out of her mouth. She heard the familiar whimper of self-pity creeping into her voice, and she tried to clear it.For heaven's sake, why was she even telling him all this?He sounded like he was about to break down, and she was blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah on her Pinto and a spilled bottle of ketchup. "Looks like the needle valve, isn't it?" Vic said.His voice sounded better, as if he'd released a little from his depression.It may be too small compared to the one they have to deal with. "Did you find Joe Campbell today?" "I tried calling him and he wasn't home." "Actually, he might be here," Vic said. He didn't have a phone in his garage, and his wife or children usually sent him messages. The two of them might have gone out. "Well, it's still possible he's out—" "Certainly," said Vic, "but I do doubt it, my dear. If anyone ever took root, it was Joe Campbell." "Should I try my luck with the car?" Donna asked hesitantly.She thought of the empty miles of 117th and the Maple Syrup Road... and that was not talking about the road in front of the Campbell's house, which was so remote it didn't even have a name.If the meter valve stopped working in that uninhabited place, I'm afraid there will be new troubles. "No, I think you'd better not go," Vic said, "he's there . . . unless you really need him, and then he's gone, like a catch-22." The voice is a little muffled. "then what do I do?" "Call the Ford dealer for a tow cable." "but--" "No, that's all you have to do. If you're going to drive the twenty-two miles to South Paris, it's bound to break down halfway. If you explain the situation up front, they might be able to lend you a temporary car, even if No, they'll help you rent a car too "Renting a car...Vic, isn't that too expensive?" "Yes," he said. It occurred to her again that it was not good to put so many things on his head.He'd probably figured she couldn't do anything... except seduce the local furniture fixer, which she did beautifully.Hot salty tears, partly annoyed, partly self-pity, came to her eyes again. "I'll take care of it," she said, trying to keep her tone normal and relaxed, with her elbows propped against the wall and a hand over her eyes. "Don't worry." "Okay, I- oh shit, look at Roger like that, he's got ash all over his neck, they got the tape. Talk to Ted, okay?" Many frantic questions rushed to her throat.everything fine?Does he think everything is ok?Can they return triumphantly and start over?It was too late, there was no time, and she was spending all her time nagging about the car.What an ignorant woman, a stupid tramp. "Of course," she said, "he'll say goodbye to both of us. And... Vic?" "What?" He sounded impatient, he didn't have time. "I love you," she said, before he could answer, adding, "Ted's here." She hurried the phone to Ted, nearly knocking him on the head, and crossed the house to the front porch , her foot stumbled on a lap pad, knocking it up and turning it up... Everything in her eyes was colorful, because her eyes were already prisms of tears. She's standing on the porch looking out at 117, she's holding her elbows and she's trying to control herself - control, damn, control - it's amazing, isn't it, that you hurt so much when there's nothing wrong with your body Heavy! Behind her, she could hear Tad's soft voice telling Vic that they had eaten at Mario's, that Mom had her favorite fatty pizza, that the Pinto broke down when they were almost home.He's telling Vic he loves him.Then there was the sound of the phone hanging up gently.Contact lost. control. In the end she felt better.She went back to the kitchen and started putting away her purchases one by one. At a quarter past three that afternoon, Charity Campbell got out of the Greyhound, followed closely by Brett.She clutched at the buckle of her handbag in fits and starts, suddenly absurdly terrified, could she not recognize Holly? For so many years, her sister's face was just a picture in her mind (the well-married sister), and now this picture suddenly and mysteriously disappeared from her mind, leaving only a misty blank. "Did you see her?" Brett asked her as they got out of the car.He was looking intelligently around Stuart Ford, without a hint of nervousness on his face. "Let me look around!" Sand Greenbelt screeched. "Maybe she's in a coffee shop or—" "Charlotte?" She turned around and finally saw Holly. The photos in my memory flooded back again, superimposed on the face of a woman standing next to the signboard of the game Space Invaders.Charity's first thought was that Holly was wearing glasses—how funny!The second, to her shock, was that Holly had wrinkles on her face, not many, but there was no doubt that they were wrinkles.Her third thought was hardly exactly a thought.It's an image, as clear, real, and heartbreaking as a sepia-toned photograph: Holly leaping into Old Man Seltzer's cow trough in her underpants, her ponytail high as he stands skyward, her I am pinching the nostrils with the thumb and index finger of my left hand, creating a comic effect.There were no glasses then, Charity thought, and the pain came over her and squeezed her heart. Standing next to Holly, watching her and Brett sheepishly, was a boy of about five and a girl of about two and a half.From the little girl's bulging pants she could tell there were diapers in them.The stroller she was sitting in was parked at a distance from them. "Hi, Holly," said Charity, her voice so thin it was almost inaudible.The wrinkles are small, and they grow upwards, which is what their mother calls good wrinkles.Her dress was dark blue, upper middle priced, and the pendant on her chest looked like a fine piece of costume jewelry, or a small emerald. For a moment, for a brief moment, Charity felt her heart so strongly, so utterly filled with joy, that she knew there would now be no question of what she had or hadn't paid for the trip— —for she is free now, and her son is free.In front of her is her sister. These children are her relatives, not photos, but real people. The two women smiled and cried slightly as they came together. At first they hesitated, but soon they hugged each other. Brett stood still, the little girl was a little flustered, and she walked towards her mother, holding the hem of her dress tightly with one small hand, probably because she didn't want her mother to fly away with this strange woman. The little boy kept staring at Brett, and then he came up.He was wearing Tuftskin jeans and a T-shirt that read: Here Comes Trouble. "You are my cousin Brett?" said the little boy. "yes." "My name is Jim, like my dad." "Oh." "You're from Maine?" Jim asked.Behind him, Charity and Holly were chatting hurriedly, interrupting each other to make fun of each other's haste for trying to make a living in this dingy little station south of Millford and north of Bridgeport. Everything is said and done. "Yes, I'm from Maine," Bright said. "You are ten years old?" "yes. "I'm five years old." "Really?" "Yeah, but I can beat you up, watch the punch!" He punched Brett in the stomach, bending him over. Brett let out a loud, surprised "Oh!"Both women were gasping for breath. "Jimmy!" Holly screamed in helpless hatred. Brett straightened up slowly and saw his mother looking at him with a worried expression on his face. "Yeah, you can beat me up anytime," Brett said, laughing. Nothing happened, he saw nothing on his mother's face, he was very happy. Until three-twenty in the afternoon, Dona had always thought that Ted should be left at home with the man who had come to watch him, and then drove to the Campbell's house to try his luck.She dialed the number again, still no answer, but she figured Campbell would be back even if he wasn't in the garage.Maybe even when she got there...she always assumed she was there.Vic had told her last week that if the Pinto needed to be repaired overnight, Ken would probably find a broken car to lend her, and that was an important factor in her thinking.But she didn't think it was a good idea to take Ted with her. If the Pinto got stuck in the second half, she would probably have to walk a long way.She could go, and Ted didn't deserve that. But Ted had other ideas. Not long after his talk with his father, he went upstairs to his room, stretched out on the bed piled with a pile of little golden books, and in fifteen minutes he fell into a heavy sleep.He had a dream, which seemed very ordinary, but had a strange, almost terrifying power. In the dream, he saw a big boy throwing a baseball covered in electrical tape and trying to hit it.He missed it twice, three times, four times, hit it halfway on the fifth swing...the ball was taped too, and it snapped at the handle.The boy held the handle for a moment (the black tape was fluttering around it), then stooped to pick up the broken part of the bat, looked at it for a moment, shook his head in disgust, and threw it into the driveway Gogol on the side.Then he turned, and Tad was suddenly shocked—partly frightened, partly delighted—to see that the boy was himself when he was ten or eleven. Yes, it was him, he was sure of it. Then the boy was gone, and there was only gray in the dream. In the gray he could hear two sounds: the clinking of chains swinging and the faint quacking of ducks. Against the gray-toned background of the two voices, a sense of panic came over him, making it hard for him to breathe. Just then, a man emerged from the fog... a man in a shiny black raincoat, holding a stop sign propped up on a stick in one hand.He was grinning...his eyes were shiny silver coins, he held up a finger to Tad, and he was horrified to realize that it wasn't a hand at all, it was just some bones, the shiny polyvinyl hood of the raincoat And the face in it wasn't a face at all. It's a skeleton head, it's— He woke up suddenly, sweating profusely.He sat up, propping himself up on his elbows, panting heavily. click. The door of his wardrobe swung open.As it swung open he saw something inside, for a second before he fled desperately for the door that led to the hall. He had only seen it for a total of one second, but that was long enough for him to tell it wasn't the man in the glowing black raincoat, Frank Dodd, the man who had killed the woman.It wasn't him, it was something else, something with blood-red sunset eyes. He didn't want to tell his mother about it, so he focused on Debbie, the one who took care of him. He didn't want to be left with Debbie.She's mean to him, always keeps the radio on high, blah, blah, blah.Knowing that none of this will move his mother, Ted ominously hints that Debbie might shoot him. Donna couldn't help giggling at the thought that fifteen-year-old myopic Debbie Greenle would shoot someone. This is a mistake.Ted wept miserably and ran into the living room.He wanted to tell her that Debbie Gringle wasn't strong enough to defend against the devil in his closet--if his mother wasn't back when the darkness came, it might come out.It could be the man in the black raincoat, or it could be a beast. Donna followed, feeling guilty about her laugh, wondering how insensitive she was to children.The father of the child is gone, and that's already very upsetting, he doesn't want to leave his mother even for an hour, and Bai— Is it possible he sensed me and Vic asked what was going on, maybe even overheard... No, she thought otherwise.She couldn't think that way, he was just habitually upset. The door to the living room was closed. She reached for the doorknob, hesitated for a moment, and knocked softly instead.When there was no answer, she knocked again, still no answer.She walked in quietly. Tad lay face down on the couch, a back cushion pressed tightly over his head, a gesture he only made when he was bored. "Ted?" no answer. "I'm sorry I laughed." His face looked at her from the side of the puffy dove gray sofa cushion, fresh tears still hanging down his face. "Can I come with you?" he asked. "Don't leave me with Debbie, Mom." Great staging, she thought, great staging, blatant high-handed menace.She knew it (at least felt like it), but she had trouble being hard-hearted... partly because her own tears were also terrorizing her.There always seems to be a storm on the horizon lately. "Honey, you know what the Pinto looks like when we come back from town, it might just break down at East Overshoe Corner, and we'll just walk around and find a house and call somebody, It might be a long way—” "So? I can walk very well!" "I know, but you might be frightened." Thinking of that thing in the closet, Ted suddenly screamed with all his might, "I don't want to be frightened!" He unconsciously touched the bulge of his jeans' back pocket with one hand, and "Devil's Words" I put it over there. "Don't raise your voice like that, it's hard to hear." "I don't want to be scared, I just want to go with you." She looked at him helplessly, knowing that she should really call Debbie Greenle and tell Debbie that she was blushing at being pushed around by her four-year-old son.There's absolutely no reason for her to give in, she thought helplessly, this is a chain reaction that won't stop anywhere, it's going to mess up even things I don't know, oh my god, I wish I was Tahiti. She opened her mouth to tell him, very firmly, once, and decisively, that she was going to call Debbie, and if he was good, they could make popcorn together, and if he was not, then he Go to bed after dinner, that's it.Instead, what she said was, "Okay, you can come, but there might be a problem with our Pinto, and if there is a problem, we'll have to go to a resident's house and call the rental company for a car to pick us up." We. If we do walk, I hope you don't whine at me, Ted Trenton." "No, I will not--" "Last line, I don't like it when you whine at me or ask me to take you because I don't want to, get it?" "Got it, of course Bu'Ted jumped out of bed, all misfortune behind him, "Shall we go now?" " "Yeah, I think so, or...I see, why don't I make a snack first? A snack, and then we can put some milk in the thermos." "Is it possible that we'll be out camping all night?" Ted suddenly had some doubts. "No, honey." She smiled and gave him a soft hug. "But I still can't get in touch with Mr. Campbell on the phone. Your dad said it's probably because he doesn't have a phone in the garage, so he doesn't know where I'm going." He called. His wife and kids might be somewhere else. So—" "He should have a phone in the garage," Ted said, "that's stupid." "You're going to talk to him like that," Donna said right away, and Ted shook his head saying he wouldn't. "Anyway, if there's no one there, I can have a snack with you at the table or on his doorstep and wait for him." Ted clapped his hands. "That's great! That's great! Can I bring my Snoopy lunch box?" "Of course." Donna gave in completely. She found a box of Keebler's fig sticks and two sticks of Slim Jim (she thought they were gross, but they were always Ted's favorite snack), and she wrapped some green oleans and sliced ​​cucumbers in foil, and she Filled Tad's thermos with milk and filled Vic's big picnic thermos. For some reason, seeing the food made her feel uncomfortable. She looked at the phone, considered whether to call Joe Campbell again, and then decided that there was no point in doing so, that they were going there anyway.Then she wondered if she'd ask Ted if she'd like her to call Debbie Greenle, and then wondered if something was wrong with her - Ted had made himself perfectly clear on that one. manner. Just then, she suddenly felt bad.not good at all.She couldn't say exactly what it was. She frantically walked around the kitchen a few times, as if expecting the thing that made her uncomfortable to manifest itself.it doesn't. "Shall we go, Mom?" "Yes." She said absently.On a message indicator on the wall next to the refrigerator, she had scrawled: Ted and I going to Campbell's repair garage by Pinto, be right back. "Ready, Ted?" "Of course." He grinned, "Who is the message for, Mommy?" "Oh, Jonny might stop by with some raspberries," she mumbled, "and maybe Alison Mackenzie, she said she'd show me some Emway and Evan stuff. " "Oh. Donna stroked his hair and they went out together. Heat, like a hammer wrapped in a pillow, hit them hard.The damn car might not even start, she thought. But the car started. It was three forty-five in the afternoon. They headed east on Route 117 toward Maple Sugar Road, which was five miles out of town.The Pinto behaved like a model car, as if it had never jumped so violently before that Donna wondered if she was even going to make all the fuss. But she did have that shake in the past, so she sat upright, kept traffic within forty miles, and always tried to pull to the right when a car passed behind her. There are many cars on the road.The summer influx of tourists and holidaymakers has just begun.The Pinto has no air conditioning, and they drive with both windows open. A Continental car with a New York license plate drove over, with a huge trailer behind it, and two motorcycles parked on the trailer. The Continental just passed them around a blind corner and the driver honked.The driver's wife, a fat woman in reflective sunglasses, was looking at Donna and Ted with haughty contempt. "I'm full!" Donna yelled, pointing her index finger at the fat woman.The fat woman turned around quickly.Tad just looked at his mother, a little uneasy, and Donna smiled at him, "It's going to be okay, boy. It'll be all right, just an out-of-state jerk." "Oh," Ted said cautiously. Listen, she thought, Big Yankee, Vic would be proud of you. She just grinned to herself, because everyone in Maine understood that if you moved from somewhere else, you'd stay out of state until you were sent to your grave.And on your tombstone they'll say something like: Harry Liangs, Fort Rock, Maine (originally from Omaha, Nebraska). 大多数游客会开向302道，在那儿他们向东开往那不勒斯文向西驶向市里奇领。弗赖伊堡和新翰布什尔州的北康威，那儿有高山滑雪道、廉价儿童乐园和免税旅馆。多娜和泰德不去302道的那个交叉口。 尽管从他们家俯视着罗克堡的商业区和画卷般美丽的共同城，但茂密的林木始终从两边紧逼着包围着公路；直到离他们家门口五英里远的地方，林木才偶尔会向外退却一点——只一点——现出一小块土地，上面建着住宅或活动房屋；更远一些，住宅会更多地是那种她父亲所说的“爱尔兰小棚屋”。阳光依然明丽，还会有四个小时完全的白日，但空旷已经又让她觉得不安了。这种感觉在117道上还不是很强烈，一旦他们离开了大道—一 转弯口有一个路标牌，写着枫糖路，字母有点退色，几乎不可辨认，已经被小孩们用．22猎枪和鸟枪打得裂开了好几道口子。 这条路是一条两道的沥青路，路面崎岖不平，表面上斑斑台点。他们沿路要经过两、三幢漂亮的住宅，两、三幢不太漂亮的住宅，还有一座破旧的“路王”活动房屋。 活动房屋下面的混凝土房基正在瓦解，它的前面的整个草坪上都长满野草。 多娜可以在野草丛中看见一些看来很便宜的塑料玩具。一个标牌斜钉在汽车道尽头的一棵树上，上面写着：弗里·基庭家。一个两岁左右的大肚子男孩站在汽车道上，小鸡鸡下面挂着湿透了的尿布，他的嘴向下挂着，一个手指在挖鼻子，另一个手指在挖肚脐眼。看着他，多娜不禁打了个好个寒颤。感觉浑身都起了鸡皮疙瘩。 stop!看在老天的份上．What happened to you? " 两边的林木又逼近了他们。 左边车道上，一辆68型旧福特费尔兰车和他们擦肩而过。 多娜看见它的发动机罩上和前灯旁涂了很多锈红色底漆，一个头发很长、不修边幅的小年轻，若无其事地坐在方向盘后面，他没有穿衬衫。费尔兰车以八十英里左右的时速开过去时，多娜缩了一下，这是这条路上他们看见的惟一的一辆车。 枫糖路平稳地向前延伸着，他们偶尔会路过一些草坪或大花园，这让他们欣赏到极其精美的景致。 这种路边的美景在西缅因州应有尽有，它们会沿绵不断，直到布里奇顿和弗赖伊堡。 视野尽头是长湖，湖面波光鳞鳞，就像一个极其富有的贵妇人的蓝宝石坠饰。 品托车行驶在一片土解着的丘陵地带，现在开始爬另一个长被（正如广告上所说，路边已经排起了干巴巴的、在热浪的冲洗下几近枯萎的枫树）。品托又开始颠摇。多娜的呼吸在她的咽喉里便注了，她想，噢，别这样，噢，别这样，别这样，你这蹩脚的车，别这样！ 泰德在乘客隔间里不自在地移了移，把斯诺比午餐盒拖得更紧了。 她开始轻踩加速器踏板，脑海里像一个口齿不清的祈祷者那样一遍遍重复着同样的话；别这样，别这样，别这样。 “妈咪？是不是——” “嘘，别出声，泰德。” 震动变得厉害了，她灰心丧气地重重踩向油门——品拓冲了出去，发动机又一次平缓下来。 “呀！”泰德的叫声突然而刺耳，他母亲跳了起来。 “我们还没到，泰德儿。” 又开了约一英里，他们到了一个交叉路口，路边是另一个木标牌：3号镇道。多娜把车拐进去，感到一种胜利的喜悦。在她记忆中，坎伯的修车库离这个木标牌只有不到一英里半的路程了。如果品托现在出故障，他们就是走也能很快走到了。 品拓经过一幢摇摇欲坠的房子，房子旁的汽车道上停着一辆旅行汽车和一辆很旧的锈迹斑斑的白色大轿车。从后视镜中，多娜注意到公路靠近房子的一边长着金银花，它们遮天蔽日，真正地长疯了。 经过这幢住宅后，路左出现一块开阔地。这以后品托开始爬一个长而陡的斜坡。 半道上，车又开始发作了，这一次发作比以往都厉害。 “我们能上去吗，妈咪？” “能。”她坚决地说。 品托的速度指针从四十落到三十。 她把变速器选择杆拉向低速档，她模糊地觉得，这可能有助于压缩。 然而品托车只是跳得更厉害，一连串的回火呼啸着穿过排气管，吓得泰德哭了起来。速度在继续下降，但她已经可以看见坎伯家的住宅和他用作车库的大红谷仓了。 把汽车的加速器踩到底曾解决过问题。她又试了一次，有一刻，发动机平稳下来了，速度计指针已经从十五爬到二十。然后它又开始摇动、震颤了起来。多娜试着再一次把油门踩到底，但这一次没有稳下来，发动机开始停转。 仪表板上的AMP灯开始呆头呆脑地闪起来，标志着品托车就要停下来了。 但这并不重要，因为车已经开过了欢伯家的邮箱，他们到了。邮箱盖上挂着一个邮包，他们经过时，她可以清楚地看见回信地址：JC惠特尼公司。 这条信息径直进入她意识的深处，她的注意力立即被集中到把车开进汽车道。 让它停在那儿，她想，他只好先修好它，否则他既进不去，也出不来。 汽车道偏开住宅一点，如果它像特伦顿家的汽车道那样是上坡路的话，她可能也就开不进去了，但经过一小段上升后，坎伯家的汽车道变得完全水平，甚至略微有点下坡，直通向那个改装后的谷仓。 多娜把车速调向空档，然后让品托车靠自身的惯性向大谷仓门滑过去。她的脚刚离开加速器踏板踩向刹车，发动机又开始抽动……但这一次相当微弱。AMP灯像心跳般缓慢地脉动着，最后亮起来，车停了。 泰德看着多娜。 她对他咧了咧嘴。“泰德，老伙计，”她说，“我们到了。” “是的。”他说，“但屋里有人吗？” 有一辆深绿色的小货车停在谷仓分。这是坎伯家的卡车，肯定是，没有其他人在等着修车，而且她已经记起了这辆车。谷仓里的灯关着，她把脖子从左边伸出去，看到住宅的灯也关着。而且邮箱上挂着包裹。 回信地址是J． C．惠特尼公司。她知道那是什么，她哥哥还是个十几岁的孩子时，曾卖过汽车零件、附件和订做设备，他们就是靠邮寄收到产品目录的。 JC惠特尼公司给乔寄包裹是世界上再自然不过的事。但如果他在那儿，他应该已经取走邮件了。 屋里没人，她灰心丧气地想。她对维克感到一阵厌烦和恼火。他总在家，他显然在，如果能生根他就会在车库里生根，他当然会，除非我需要他。 “好了，不管怎么样，我们进去看看。”她说着，打开了车门。 “我解不开安全带的扣子，”泰德说，他徒然地抓扯着皮扣带的释放装置。“好了，会抓出血来的，泰德，我绕过去把你放出来。” 她出去砰地关上门，向车前走了两步，想绕过发动机罩到乘客门一侧把泰德从安全带里解出来。如果坎伯在那儿，这就给了他一个机会，可以看看客人是谁。她不想一声招呼不打就把头向他的车库里伸进去。也许这有点愚蠢，但自从她在厨房里和斯蒂夫·坎普发生了丑陋、可怕的那一幕后，她比她十六岁，也就是父母放她出去约会的那年以后的任何时候都清楚，一个没有保护的女人意味着什么。 寂静冲击着她，她感到躁热和死一般的寂静，这让她几乎失去勇气。 声音，当然有，虽然在罗克堡呆了这么几年，她最多只能说她的耳朵已经慢慢从“城市耳朵”适应为“小镇耳朵”，但丝毫不意味着“乡村耳朵”，……这里是真正的乡村。 她开始听见乌的歌声，还有乌鸦刺耳的音乐，他们刚爬上来时经过的山坡旁有一片长长的草场，这种“音乐”就从那片草场的某处传来。 轻风在叹息，汽车道边的橡树在她脚边形成移动着的斑影图案。 但她听不见一声汽车发动机的声音，甚至也听不见远处拖拉机或干草压捆机的一声嗝声。城市耳朵和小镇耳朵更紧紧地调向人造的声音：那些大自然产生的声响则从这张被选择感知收紧的同外滑落了下去。听不见一点自己熟悉的声音让她感到。已神不安。 如果他在谷仓里干活，我应该已经听见了，多娜想。但她小镇耳朵接受到的仅有的声音，是她自己踩在汽车道的碎砾石上时发出的吱吱嘎嘎的脚步声和一种很低的嗡嗡声——她没有下意识去想，她的脑子只把它当作从路边一根电线杆上的电源变压器发出的声音。 她到了发动机罩前面，正想从品托车前穿过去，就在这时，她听见一种新的声音，一声低低的、重浊的嗥叫。 她停下脚步，迅速抬起头，试图确定声音的来源。 有一刻她确定不了，她突然感到一阵恐惧，不是因为声音本身，而是因为它好像没有任何方向性，它不是来自任何地方，它又来自所有方向。 这时她身体内部的雷达——也许是她求生的装备——开始转向每一个方向。然后她知道了，嗥叫是从车库里发出来的。 “妈咪？”泰德拉着安全带，最大限度地把他的头从窗口远远伸出来，“我解不开这该死的老——” "Hush!" （嗥叫。） 她探着脚地向后退了一步，右手轻轻搭在品托的发动机罩上，她绊网上的神经像灯丝一样细。她并没有恐慌，只是高度地警觉：它以前不嗥叫。 库乔从乔·坎伯的车库里出来了。 多娜目不转睛地看着它，呼吸并不觉得痛苦，但它已经完全在喉咙口停住了。 这是同一只狗，这是库乔，但是—— 但是，噢，我的—— （噢，我的上帝！） 狗的那双眼睛盯着她，它们发红，充满粘液，正向下漏着什么粘乎乎的东西，是粘乎乎的眼泪。它的黄褐色皮毛上缠结着淤泥和—— 血，它是—— （它是它是血上帝上帝！） 她好像动不了了。 没有呼吸，肺中只有死一般低平的波动。她曾听说过人受惊时会瘫痪，但从来没有意识到它会这样全面地发生。她的大脑和她的脚之间没有任何联系，沿着她脊椎骨向下的那根扭曲的灰色细丝已经关掉了信号。她的手只是手脱前部没有感觉的愚蠢的肉块，她的尿流出来，而除了模糊地感觉远处有一种温暖，她一无所知。 狗却好像知道，它可怕的、没有任何思想的眼睛一直没有离开多娜·特伦顿大大的蓝眼睛，它慢慢地向前踱着步，一副懒洋洋的样子。 它现在站在车库的地板上……它现在在二十五英尺外辗碎了的砾石上。有一种低沉的呜呜的声音，那是威吓，又像是稍给人以安慰，泡沫从库乔的鼻吻上滴下来……然而她动不了，一点都动不了。 这时泰德看见了拘；辨认出在它毛皮上形成纹理的是血，他尖叶了起平——一种高而尖厉的声音让库乔的眼睛动起来，大慨就是这声音让多娜得以解脱。 她做了一个蹒跚的老酒鬼似的大回转，小腿砰地撞在品托车的挡泥板上，一种钢钻似的疼痛向她的臀部直冲上去，她绕着发动机罩向回跑。 库乔的嗥叫骤然变成一种能震碎一切的激怒的咆哮，它向她扑了过来。 她的脚踩进松松的砾石中，几乎要从她身体上滑出去，她的手臂重重地撞在发动机罩上，这才让自己没散了架。撞着的是滑稽骨，她发出一声尖锐的痛苦的叫声 汽车门紧紧地关着，这是她自己从车里出来时无意识间关上的，门把手上的镀铬按钮突然眩目地明亮起来，把阳光像箭一样射进她的眼里。 我永远不能打开那个门进去关上它了。她的心中产生了一种可能就要死去的想法，这让她倍感窒息。 没有足够时间，没有办法。 她一把抓开门。她可以听见自己的呼吸在喉咙里进进出出的啜泣般的声音。泰德又尖叫了，那是一种尖锐、断裂的声音。 她坐下，几乎是坠落在驾驶员座上。她扫了一眼扑过来的库乔，它正绷直后腿向她跳过来，要把几乎两百镑的重量都撞向她的大腿。 她用两只手猛地把品拓的门拉上，右臂靠上方向盘，用肩揿响了喇叭。关得正及时，刹那之后她车门上传来一个沉重，坚实的声音，好像有人抡着一大块木头狠狠地砸向了汽车。狗暴怒的咆哮突然停住了，一片寂静。 把它自己敲出去了，她歇斯底里地想，感谢上帝。 过了一会儿，库乔满是泡沫的扭曲的脸在她窗外弹了出来，只有几英寸远，好像恐怖电影里的恶魔为让观众毛骨悚然至极，径直从电影屏幕上扑了下来。 她可以看见它粗大的牙，她又一伙有了可怕的几乎要晕过去的感觉，这只狗正看着她，不是看着一个不巧和年幼的儿子一起掉进汽车陷饼里的女人，而是看着多娜·特伦顿，好像它一直只是在徘徊，在等待，等她出现。 库乔又开始叫了，即使在汽车坚硬厚实的安全玻璃后，这吼声也不可置信地高。 她突然明白，如果不是她停车时习惯性地摇起窗玻璃（那是她父亲坚持要她养成的习惯：停车，摇起窗玻璃，踩刹，锁车），大概她的喉咙已经开了，血已经溅上了方向盘、仪表板、防风玻璃，甚至是泰德的身上了。 她做这样一个动作的时候相当机械，她当时自己并没有意识到。 她尖叫起来。 狗可怕的面孔从视野中落了下去。 她想起了泰德，回头看过去。她看见他时，一种新的恐惧像一根滚烫的针向她扎过来——他没有晕过去，但已经半失去意识，完全瘫倒在座位上，他眼睛瞪着，没有了眼神，脸是白色的，嘴角发青。 “泰德！”她迅速用手指按在了他的鼻下，在她干哑的嘶叫吉中，他迟钝地眨了眨眼。“妈咪，”他有点口齿人清了，“我衣橱里的恶魔怎么出来了？是梦吗？我是在打吃吗？” “会好的。”然而实际上泰德提到农橱里的恶魔时。她已经禁不住在打冷颤了，“会——” 她从品托车前罩上看见狗的尾巴和宽阔的背部正向汽车泰德的一侧移动过去。 泰德一侧的窗没有关。 她疯了一般屈身越过泰德的腿扑向窗玻璃的摇柄，她喘着粗气，使尽全身的力气要把它摇上去，她感觉到泰德在下面痛苦地辗转着，在她剧烈的摇动下，摇柄上出现了裂痕。 她摇上四分之三的时候，库乔扑了过来。 它的鼻吻冲进正在合拢的窗口，上升的窗玻璃又把它撞向汽车的顶板。库乔暴烈地嗥叫起来，吼声在品拓狭小的空间里振荡着。 泰德又尖叫了，他用胳膊裹着头，伸出前臂交叉在眼前，慌不择路地一头扎向多娜的怀里。他撞着了多娜的手，让窗玻璃又下降了一点。 “妈妈！妈妈！让它停下来！让它离开！” 一种热乎乎的东西流过她的手背，她惊恐万分地发现，这种东西是从狗口中流出的粘液和血的混合物。她用尽了全身的力气，窗子终于又上去了四分之—……库乔退却了。 她只看了一眼圣·伯奈特狗的面孔，那是一张扭曲、疯狂的面孔，是一只友善的圣·伯奈特狗的面孔的疯了的漫画像。这以后立四脚落地，下去了，她看见的又只是它的背部。 现在摇柄转起来容易多了。她关上窗，在牛仔裤上擦着手背，大口地端起了气。 （噢！上帝，噢！圣母玛丽亚！） 泰德又陷入了那种半迷半醒的状态。这一次她的手指在他脸上的疾点没有引起任何反应。 他这样下去会得不知道什么样的综合症，噢！上帝是的，噢！我甜甜的泰德，我怎么就没把你留在戴比那儿？ 她抓住他的肩，开始轻轻地前后摇他。 “我在打盹吗？”他又问。 "No," she said.他在呻吟——一种低低的、痛苦的声音撕着他的心，“不，已经好了。泰德？没事了，那条狗进不来，窗都紧紧地关着，它进不来，它碰不着我们了。” 不知是因为摇动，还是她的话，泰德缓了过来，他的眼睛微微睁开，“那我们回家吧，妈咪。我不想呆在这儿。” “好的，好的，我们就——” 库乔如同一枚剧烈燃烧的黄褐色飞弹，跳上发动机罩，咆哼着扑向防风玻璃。泰德又发出了一声尖叫，眼睛鼓了出来，两只小手深深地抓进面颊，那儿立即出现了几道红印。 “它碰不到我们！”多娜对他大喊，“你听见没有？它进不来，泰德！” 库乔沉闷地撞在防风玻璃上，又撞了回去，在发动机罩上抓扒着要保持平衡，漆上出现了几道印痕。然后它又来了。 “我想回家！”泰德尖嚷着。 “抱紧我，泰德，不要担心。” 多么愚蠢……但她还能说什么？ 库乔又撞向防风玻璃时，泰德把头理向她的胸口。玻璃上已经涂满了肮脏的泡沫，库乔想咬开一条路冲进来，它肮脏、混浊的眼睛盯着她的眼睛。我要把你撕成碎片，它们在说，你，还有你的儿子。只要我找到进这个罐头的路，我就会生吃了你们；我要在你们尖叫的时候一口一口地吃你们身上的肉。 狂犬病，她想，这狗得了狂犬病。 她心中的恐惧不断在增加，目光不由自主越过发动机罩上的狗看向停在谷仓旁的坎伯的卡车。这条狗是不是已经吃了他？ 她按动喇叭钮，品托轰鸣起来，狗在前面滑动着打了一个趔趄，几乎要摔倒。“不太喜欢这样，是不是？”她咬着牙一个字一个字地说，“刺痛了你的耳朵，是不是？”她又狠狠地按了下去。 库乔掉了下去。 “妈咪，回家吧。” 她转动了点火装置上的钥匙。 马达哐，哐，哐……但品托没有启动。她把钥匙转了回来。 “宝贝，我们一时走不了，这车——” “要走！要走！现在！就要现在走！” 她的头像遭到了重击，剧痛随着她的心跳一阵一阵地袭来。 “泰德，听我说，车不想启动，还是那个针阀，我们需要等发动机冷下来，那时它就会好，我们就可以走了。” 我们只要从汽车道里开出去，开到下坡的地方。那时我们就可以滑下去，只要我不半途吓得踩了刹车，就算发动机停了，也可以一直滑到枫糖路上去……或…… 她想起山脚下的那幢住宅，那幢整个东侧爬满了金银花的宅子。那里有人。 她看见有车。 people! 她又开始按喇叭。三短声，三长声，三短声……她从少女童子军记得的惟一的电码。他们会听见。即使他们不懂，也应该上来看看究竟谁在乔·坎伯家前大闹——为什么？ 狗在哪儿？她看不见它了。但这并不重要。它进不来，救援很快就会到了。 “都会变好的。”她对泰德说，“等等看。” 镜眼工作室在坎市里奇一幢肮脏的砖结构建筑物里。办公室在四楼，一个包括两个工作室的套间在三楼，六楼还有一个空调条件不太好的摄影间，刚能容纳下放成四排的十六张座位。 那个星期一晚上早些时候，维克·特伦顿和罗格！布瑞克斯通坐在摄影间的第三排座位上，已经脱下了外套和领带。他们已把夏普谷制品教授的每段屏幕录像都看了五遍。总共有整二十段，其中三段是臭名昭著的红浆果活力谷场景。 最后六个场景是半小时前放完的，放映师向他们道了声晚安后离开了，他晚上还要去奥尔森·韦尔斯电影院放电影。十五分钟后镜眼的总裁罗布·马丁也阴沉着脸向他们道晚安，接着又说，只要他们需要他，明天和星期三的全天他的门都向他们大开着。他回避了他们三个脑子里都清楚的一句话：只要你能想出什么值得谈的东西，门总是开着的。 罗布有足够的理由面色阴沉。他是一个越战老兵，在春节攻势中失去了一条腿。 1970年末，他在烟亲的大力帮助下用残疾金建起了镜眼工作室，这以后工作室一直在艰难地挣扎沉浮着，波士顿的大工作室总能从资金雄厚的各大媒体揽到报酬丰厚的业务，而镜眼则靠抢点他们剩下的面包屑苟活。维克和罗格之所以和罗布打交道，是因为他让他们想起自己——通过艰难的奋斗找到一点立足之地，到了某个虚幻的角落，转了过去，眼前又是新的漫漫长途。当然，波士顿有一点不错，就是来往比纽约方便。 过去的十六个月里，镜眼起飞了。 罗布利用他的工作室在做夏普场景这一点开始招揽到大量业务，事业第一次兴旺了起来。五月，就在夏普谷制品遭殃之前，他给维克和罗格寄了一张明信片，画面是一辆正在开出的波士顿无轨电车，车尾有四个可爱的淑女，弯着腰露出被设计师牛仔裤包着的臀部。明信片的背面写着：镜眼签约微波士顿汽车的后盾，他们现在成了靶子，大笔赚钱。Interesting.但他们现在已经不会这么喧闹了。自从活力谷惨败后，已经有两个客户取消了和镜眼的会面，如果伍尔克斯广告失去了夏普帐单，罗布除了失去夏普的帐单外，还会失去许多其他客户。这让他感到恼火和恐慌……这种感情维克完全理解。 有五分钟他们一言不发地坐在那儿，只是闷头抽着烟，最后罗格用一种很低的声音说：“我只想吐，维克，看见那个家伙坐在桌子后面看着我，好像嘴里有一块化不掉的黄油，他咬了一大口那种带着粘乎乎的染料的谷制品，说什么'不，这儿没什么不对'，我的胃里面就直恶心。真高兴放映师走了，我要是再看一遍，就会吐得一腿都是。” 他在放在椅子扶手上的一个烟灰缸里把烟掐灭了。他看上去确实病了，他的脸有点发黄，让维克一点都不喜欢。这就是战斗疲劳？但给人的感觉就像吓得连个屁都不敢放地缩进了耗子洞后，在黑暗中又看到有什么东西等在那儿，要一口把你吞下去。 “我不断地告诉自己。”罗格说，他又拿了一支烟，“我已经看到了一些东西，你知道吗？一些东西。我无法相信它就像看上去那样糟。但这些场景的累积效应……就像看吉米·卡特说的，'我从来不向你撒谎。”'他猛吸了一口烟，又把它塞进了烟灰缸，“不能怪乔治·卡林、斯蒂夫·马丁，还有'周六现场之夜'能这么招摇，那个家伙看起来完全一副假圣人的样子……”他的声音颤抖了起来。 “我有一个主意。”维克平静地说。 “对了，你在飞机上说过什么。”罗格看着他，但他并没有抱多大希望，“有什么主意，我听听。” “我想，教授必须再做一个场景。”维克说，“我们必须说服夏普老先生这么做，不是叫。孩'，而是老先生。” “老教授这次该卖什么？”罗格问，他解开了衬衫上的又一个扣子，“耗子药还是橙染料？” “别这样，罗格，没有人中毒。” “有倒好了。”罗格笑了，但是他笑得很难听，“有时，我很知道你能不能理解广告究竟是什么。它是拎着尾巴牵一条狼。好，我们松手，它就会转过身来把我们整个吃掉。” “罗格——” “我们生活在这样一个国家，某个消费者团体称了一下麦当劳半磅蛋糕，发现它比半磅少一丁丁点，报纸头版立即就会登出来；某个边边角角的加州小杂志发了一条报道，说尾部的碰撞会引起品托车油箱爆炸，福特汽车公司鞋子里的脚就会发抖——” “别这么说，”维克笑了，“我妻子有一辆品拓，已经够我麻烦的了。” “我想说的是，在我看来，让夏普谷制品教授再做一个场景，就像让里查德·尼克松再做一次国情咨文报告，他就完了，维克，他就整个完了！”他停了一下，看向维克，维克正面色凝重地看着他，“你想让他说什么？” “他很难过。” 罗格木愣愣地向他眨着眼好一会儿，然后把头仰过去咯咯笑了，“他很难过，很难过？嗅，亲爱的，太妙了，这就是你的好主意？” “等一等，罗格，你甚至不给我一个机会，这不像你。” “不像，”罗格说，“我想不像，告诉我你是什么意思，我相信你不是——” “认真？我很认真。好了，你学过那些课，所有成功广告的基础是什么？究竟为什么要费那么大劲做广告？” “所有成功广告的基础是人们希望相信，人们不相信自己。” “是这样。当梅泰格修理工说