Norm Nowrecki woke up with a start and bitchslapped his squalling
Motorola off of the Jatoba nightstand and into the relentless darkness
of the shipping container that had served as his apartment for the
last six months.
He heard a tinny voice out in the blackness and crawled towards it on
"Tage Frid, Tage Frid!", peeped out the disembodied presence connected
to the other end of the cellular connection.
"Tage Frid!", hollered Nowrecki. "Talk louder, I can't find the
"Strombolis, it's the Strombolis!", came the muffled cry from the duct
tape covered cell phone speaker (Norm had punched holes through the
duct tape but they didn't help all that much).
Lurching at the source of the sound coming out of the murk and gloom,
Norm Nowrecki finally wrapped his sweating paws around the fractured
"WTF are you talking about Strombolis for? This line is for
emergencies only, not freaking food orders!"
Norm tried to calm himself, wondering how a Stromboli joint could have
gotten hold of the emergency phone number, let alone the "Tage Frid"
"The Strombolis rigged the election and they're going to take over the
Wreck! You have to help us!"
Nowrecki flicked what he hoped was not what he thought it probably was
from his leg and tried to concentrate. The only person who had the
emergency number and knew the "Tage Frid" password was the leader to
the Wreck.Norm Cabal. Why would he be calling him in the middle of
the night to order Strombolis? Had the man been into the sacred
Everclear, reserved for the priest class of Shellackians? Had he
reverted to his forsworn habit of sniffing Polyurinestain fumes?
Norm decided on a subtle approach.
"Who the fuck is this?"
His ear fixed firmly to the ancient Motorola, Norm took in what the
Voice was trying to explain to him.
It wasn't pretty.
When the Voice was done describing the situation, Nowrecki offered
some comforting words.
"You'll wire the money to the usual place?"
It was agreed. The money would be wired to Nowrecki's numbers
account at the check-cashing place down the street from Norm's
Norm thought over the name of the woman that the Voice had described
as initiating the Wreck.Norm takeover. His Scary Sharp mind converted
it easily into its obvious anagrammatic form:
"SHELLAC NEW US"
"That sonofabitch.", breathed Norm Nowrecki. "He's back with that
Shellac Selling Troll again - I thought that O'Deen had gotten rid of
Norm sat and stared into the Stygian fetidness of his shipping
container for a bit, finally sighing to the uncomprehending night:
"Nothing is forever, not on Wreck.Norm it ain't".
Nowrecki punched in the number of his travel agent. He was off to
research election fraud at the best of all possible places for such
toil - the Banana Republic of Florida.
(Next time - The Fruits Of Norm Nowrecki's Research And Why It's
Important To Note That news.groups Is An Anagram Of "WE PONG RUSS")
"People funny. Life a funny thing." Sonny Liston
Thomas J.Watson - Cabinetmaker (ret.)
tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet (real email)