chance, too, with that bunch of pirates. We'd all had
experience with that sort of thing, hadn't we? Why--someone at the
other end of the bar wanted some service and Art left. I sat back and
began to add two and two. I got five.

Art came back and grinned at me. "You're not going to like this,
Pete."

"What won't I like?"

"This," and a man in coveralls shouldered me aside and set a cobra on
the bar in front of me, a snake with a twelve inch tube. Art went on
to explain: "They're giving me a loaner until my own set gets back and
they don't want to plug it in the usual place until they get a chance
to completely check the wiring. Okay?"

It had to be okay. It wasn't my place of business. I moved down a bit
and watched the serviceman plug it in. He tried the channels for
clarity and without warning flipped the volume control all the way
over and the whole building shook. I shook, too, like a bewildered
Labrador throwing off an unwanted splash of icy water. The top of my
head lifted from its moorings and shifted just enough for me to name
that infernal serviceman and all his issue. He just sat there and
grinned, making no attempt to tone down the set. Then I said what I
thought about his television, and the set went quiet. Like that.

It began to smoke and the serviceman began to shuck tools from his
box. Art opened his mouth to yell and I walked out the front door.
The High Hat, right across the street, would serve to keep me warm
until the smoke and profanity was cleared and Art had the repairman
under control.

I knew it! They had a jukebox inside the door with the same twenty top
tunes of the week, the same gaudy front with the same swirling lights
and the same tonsillectomied tenors. I shuddered as I eased by, and I
murmured a heartfelt wish over my shoulder, something about the best
place for that machine. I ordered a beer, a short one. The barkeep, a
pleasant enough fellow, but with none of Art's innate joviality, rang
up the dime.

"You didn't happen to pull the cord out when you walked by, did you?"

"Pull the cord out of what?"

He didn't bother to answer, and went over to the machine. That was the
first I realized the music had stilled. He clicked the switch on and
off a few times with no result, and went to the telephone, detouring
by way of the cash register to pick up a coin. Thoughtfully sipping my
beer I heard him dial and report a jukebox out of order. Then a relay
clicked in the back of my he