按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
〃You mean you directed dem darts wit' yer mind？〃 Fast Eddie expostulated。
〃Nah。 Not ezzackly。 I。。。 I make the dart … board want darts。〃
〃Huh？〃
〃I can't make the darts move。 What I do； I project a。。。 a state of wanting darts onto the center of the target； like some kinda magnet； an' the target attracts 'em for me。 I only learned how to do it about a year ago。 The hard part is to hang on to all but one dart。〃
〃Thought so；〃 growled Callahan from behind the bar。 〃You make your glass want gin； too … don't ya？〃
Fogerty nodded。 〃I make a pretty good buck as a fisherman … my nets want fish。〃
It seemed to me that； given his talent； Fogerty was making pretty unimaginative use of it。 Imagine a cancer wanting X…rays。 Then again； imagine a pocket that wants diamonds。 I decided it was just as well that his ambitions were modest。
〃Wait a minute；〃 said the Doc； puzzled。 〃This ‘state of wanting darts' you project。 What's it like？〃
And Fogerty； an unimaginative man； pondered that question for the first time in his life； and the inevitable happened。
There's an old story about the centipede who was asked how he could coordinate so many legs at once； and； considering the mechanics of something that had always been automatic； became so confused that he never managed to walk again。 In just this manner； Fogerty focused his attention on the gift that had always been second nature to him； created that zone of yearning for the first time in his head where he could observe it； and。。。
The whole half…dozen darts ripped free of the target； crossed the room like so many Sidewinder missiles； and smashed into Fogerty's forehead。
If he hadn't been wearing that dumb hat； they might have pulped his skull。 Instead they drove him backward； depositing him on his ample fundament； where he blinked up at us blinking down at him。 There was a stunned silence （literally so on his part） and then a great wave of laughter that grew and swelled and rang； blowing the cobwebs from the rafters。 We laughed till we cried； till our lungs ached and our stomachs hurt； and Fogerty sat under the avalanche of mirth and turned red and finally began to giggle himself。
And like the centipede； like the rajah whose flying carpet would only function if he did not think of the word 〃elephant；〃 Fogerty from that day forth never managed to bring himself to use his bizarre talent again。
Imagine getting a netfull of mackerel in the eye！
4
TWO HEADS ARE BETTER THAN ONE
As usual； it was a pretty merry night at Callahan's when the trouble started。
I don't want to give the impression that every time us Callahan's regulars （Callahanians？） get to feeling good； there's drama around the corner。 The reason it seems that way is probably that； barring disaster； merriment is the general rule at Callahan's Place。 Most of us have little better to do than get happy in another's pany； and we're not an unimaginative bunch； so we keep ourselves pretty well amused。
Being a Wednesday； it was Tall Tales Night （as opposed to Monday； the Fireside Fill…More sing…along night； or Tuesday； which we call Punday）。 Along about eight thirty； when most of the boys had arrived； and the level of' broken glass in the fireplace was still rather low； Callahan dried his big meaty hands on his apron and cleared his throat with a sound like a bulldozer in pain。
All right gents；〃 he boomed； and conversations were tabled for the night。 〃We need a subject。 Any suggestions？〃
Nobody spoke up。 See； the teller of the tallest tale on a Wednesday night gets his drinking money refunded； and most folks like to lie low until they've had a chance to examine the petition and e up with a topper。 Not that the first tale told never wins； but it has to be pretty memorable。
〃All right；〃 Callahan said when no one took the lead。 〃People； places or things？〃
〃We did t'ings last week；〃 Fast Eddie pointed out from his seat at the upright。 True enough。 I'd had everybody beat with a yarn about a beer…nut tree that used to grow in my backyard until I watered it； when Doc Webster wiped me out with the saga of a '38 Buick of his that understood spoken English； which would have been just fine except that it took on a rude highway cop one day and chased him across six lanes of traffic。 Doc claimed to have buried it in his backyard after it expired from remorse。
〃Ain't nothing says we have to be consistent；〃 Callahan replied。 〃We can do things again。〃
〃Naw；〃 Doc Webster called out。 〃Let's do people。〃
〃All right； Doc。 What kind？ You sound like you got something in mind。〃
〃Wal。。。〃 drawled the Doc； and people checked to see that their drinks were fresh。 Those who needed a refill put a dollar bill on the bar and were refueled by Callahan； who did not need to ask what they wanted。
〃。。。 I was just thinking；〃 the Doc continued； his own drink as magically full as always； 〃of my Cousin Hobart； the celebrated Man With The Foot…Long Nose。〃 （〃Oh； relatives tonight；〃 someone muttered。） 〃Hobart's mother died in childbirth； naturally； and his father succumbed to acute embarrassment shortly thereafter。 As a child Hobart was a born showman； keeping the orphanage in stitches with incredibly accurate woodpecker imitations； and upon attaining the age of seven he ran away； to form the nucleus of a traveling road pany which played Pinocchio in every theater in the country； and some in the city too。 This kept him in Kleenex until he outgrew the role； and Cyrano de Bergerac was not popular at the time； so he struck off on his own and in short order became something of an old stand…by on the vaudeville circuits； where his ability to identify the perfume of ladies in the last row and his prowess on the nose…flutes （as many as five at one time） were a never…failing draw。 He might have lived on in this way for a good many years； for he was a fanatically hygienic man； and although there were dark rumors about his sex life he was invariably discreet。 The young ladies he visited were for some reason equally reticent； even with their best girl friends … let alone their husbands。
〃No； it was not a cuckold's knuckles （say three times fast with ice…cubes in your mouth and you can have this drink） that finally put an end to Cousin Hobart's career； though it might have been。 It was by his own hand that； if I may put it this way； The Nose was blown。 One night he retired early with only a slight head…cold for pany； a yard…long handkerchief knotted to the bedstead （Hobart went through a lot of laundresses before he found one with a strong stomach）。 Thrashing in his sleep； he rolled over and contrived to wedge the end of his nose in his right ear。 Sensing some obstruction； the mighty proboscis sneezed … and damned near blew his brains out。
〃When his head had stopped ringing； a wide…awake Hobart settled down to some cold hard thinking。 The incident could happen again at any time … the miracle was that so likely a phenomenon had taken so long to first occur … and next time the airseal might be better。 Only by chance had Hobart survived at all。 He reached his decision reluctantly； but he was a brave man： he followed through。 He had hi