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Norm
,
the
bag-boy
,
was
indignant
.
"
Listen
,
it
was
my
idea
,
"
he
said
.
All
at
once
,
by
some
magic
,
they
had
gotten
around
to
arguing
about
who
was
going
to
do
it
instead
of
whether
or
not
it
should
be
done
at
all
.
But
of
course
,
none
of
them
had
heard
that
nasty
slithering
sound
.
"
Stop
it
!
"
I
said
loudly
.
They
looked
around
at
me
.
"
You
do
n't
seem
to
understand
,
or
you
're
trying
as
hard
as
you
can
not
to
understand
.
This
is
no
ordinary
fog
.
Nobody
has
come
into
the
market
since
it
hit
.
If
you
open
that
loading
door
and
something
comes
in
-
"
"
Something
like
what
?
"
Norm
said
with
perfect
eighteen-year-old
macho
contempt
.
"
Whatever
made
the
noise
,
I
heard
.
"
"
Mr.
Drayton
,
"
Jim
said
.
"
Pardon
me
,
but
I
'm
not
convinced
you
heard
anything
.
I
know
you
're
a
big-shot
artist
with
connections
in
New
York
and
Hollywood
and
all
,
but
that
does
n't
make
you
any
different
from
anyone
else
,
in
my
book
.
Way
I
figure
,
you
got
in
here
in
the
dark
and
maybe
you
just
...
got
a
little
confused
.
"
"
Maybe
I
did
,
"
I
said
.
"
And
maybe
if
you
want
to
start
screwing
around
outside
,
you
ought
to
start
by
making
sure
that
lady
got
home
safe
to
her
kids
.
"
His
attitude-and
that
of
his
buddy
and
of
Norm
the
bag-boy
-
was
making
me
mad
and
scaring
me
more
at
the
same
time
.
They
had
the
sort
of
light
in
their
eyes
that
some
men
get
when
they
go
shooting
rats
at
the
town
dump
.
"
Hey
,
"
Jim
's
buddy
said
.
"
When
any
of
us
here
want
your
advice
,
we
'll
ask
for
it
.
"
