The Aggravation of Elmer

_The world would beat a path to
Elmer's door--but he had to go
carry the door along with him!_


It was the darnedest traffic jam I'd ever seen in White Plains. For two
blocks ahead of me, Main Street was gutter to gutter with stalled cars,
trucks and buses.

If I hadn't been in such a hurry to get back to the shop, I might have
paid more attention. I might have noticed nobody was leaning on his
horn. Or that at least a quarter of the drivers were out peering under
their hoods.

But at the time it didn't register. I gave the tie-up a passing glance
and was turning up the side street toward Biltom Electronics--Bill-Tom,
get it?--when I saw Marge threading her way to the curb. She was leading
a small blonde girl of about eight, who clutched a child-size hatbox in
her hand. Marge was hot and exasperated, but small fry was as cool and
composed as a vanilla cone.

I waited. Even flushed and disheveled, Marge is a treat to look at. She
is tall and slender, with brown eyes that match her hair, a smile that
first crinkles around her eyes, then sneaks down and becomes a
full-fledged grin--

But I'm getting off the subject.

"Honestly, Bill!" Marge said as she saw me. "The traffic nowadays! We've
been tied up for fifteen minutes. I finally decided to get off the bus
and walk, even though it is about a hundred in the shade."