"Caught me at _what_, may I ask?"
"Ah-ah," Perry chided, wagging his finger. "I won't tell. Don't worry."
He headed for the door. "I've got to run." He wagged his finger once
more, said another "ah-ah" and was gone.
As soon as the door had closed behind him, I turned furiously to the
typewriter.
"Now see what you've done!" I shouted. "He thinks I was cribbing from
Poe!"
The typewriter was silent.
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"
The keys did not move.
I slammed my palm onto the space bar. "Clamming up, eh? After you've
gone and put my foot into it, you just shut up! Well, all right, stay
shut up. See if I give one good damn!"
The typewriter didn't seem to care much. It didn't form a single word.
I threw the carriage all the way to the right, stalked to the closet
and slammed my rainy-day hat onto my head, even though it wasn't
raining.
At the door, I shot a hot glance at the machine, and then walked out,
slamming the flimsy wood behind me.
* * * * *
I went straight to the pawn shop. I slammed the glass door behind me,
hard enough so that I thought it'd shatter, and then I stalked over to
the counter. The old man was nowhere in sight. I banged my fist on the
wooden counter top.
"Hey!" I yelled.
"Just a minute."