Blackburn went to the counter. "What happened to the hundred and seventy-six you quoted this afternoon?"

"Well, things got more complicated than we expected," Earl said. "And we did flush your radiator."

"I told you not to do that."

"Yes sir, but our boy misread the work order, and the work did get done. It wouldn't be fair if we didn't charge for work that got done."

"So why'd you have me initial the one seventy-six?"

"That figure was an estimate. Your initials just authorized us to start working."

"Then what was my signature for?"

"That was to authorize us to look at the car in the first place. We have to be careful."

Blackburn laughed. These guys were hilarious. They should be dressed up in polka dots and milk-white makeup, tumbling out of a car in a center ring somewhere. Their belief in gullibility was so absolute, so crystalline, that it would be childlike if it had to do with, say, the existence of the Easter Bunny rather than with ripping off old ladies.

"What's so funny?" Earl asked. He sounded pissed.

Even the question was hilarious. Blackburn laughed so hard that his stomach hurt. He pounded his fists on the counter. His eyes blurred. Earl was a ruddy blob. Blackburn howled.

He heard the door to the garage open, and another blob, bigger and darker, joined Earl behind the counter.

"What's so funny?" Ed asked. He sounded pissed too.

Blackburn dropped to his knees and leaned his head against the counter. His body shook. He had never laughed like this before. It was as miraculous as an orgasm.

"I said, what's so funny?"

Blackburn looked up and saw two smears that he knew were Ed and Earl's heads. They were looking over the counter at him. He allowed himself one last burst of laughter, then wiped his face on his jacket sleeve. "I'm not going to pay you," he said.

Ed and Earl glanced at each other. Then they glared down at Blackburn.

"You sure as hell are," Ed said.

"Bet me," Blackburn said, and then reached up and whacked their heads together.

Ed and Earl bellowed, and Blackburn jumped up and ran into the garage. He grabbed the metal box hanging from the ceiling and punched the green button marked UP. The Fury began to rise beside him. Ed came into the garage then, shoving the glass door so hard that it shattered against the wall. Earl came in behind Ed, cursing.

Blackburn released the UP button, and the hydraulic lift stopped. He ran around the Fury, which had risen about three feet, and put his thumbs in his ears. He waggled his fingers and stuck out his tongue at Ed and Earl.

Ed took a crescent wrench from a tool cabinet. He came stomping around the Fury holding the wrench like a club. "You don't know who you're fucking with," he said.

"Sure I do," Blackburn said. "It says 'Ed' right on your chest." He backed away, keeping ten feet between him and Ed, until he bumped against the parts rack along the far wall. The rack wobbled, and packaged spark plugs rained down on Blackburn's head. Blackburn looked to his left and right and saw that the rack's shelves sagged with mufflers, starters, alternators, brake shoes, bearings, and assorted other parts. The rack was bolted to the wall, but some of the brackets meant to hold it there had torn.

Blackburn spread his arms wide and grasped two of the rack's vertical supports. Earl had stayed on the far side of the Fury, blocking the way back into the waiting room, but Ed was now almost close enough to strike. The wrench was rising.

"You don't know who you're fucking with, either," Blackburn said. "Ever hear of Samson?" He strained forward, and the parts rack shrieked. A starter, a muffler, a box of clamps, and several hoses hit the floor. Then more spark plugs rained down, mixed with distributor caps, plug wires, and rolls of electrical tape.

"Son of a bitch!" Ed yelled, and lunged for Blackburn.

Blackburn let go of the rack, ducked Ed's wrench, and sprinted for the Fury. He dove under the car, coming to a stop in the trough below the hydraulic lift's right brace. He saw his warped reflection in the lift's silver post.

He heard crashes and curses, and turned his head to see what had happened. The parts rack had not fallen, but it had tilted forward enough that most of the parts had slid off their shelves. Ed was down on one knee. Something had conked him, and his scalp was bleeding. When the parts stopped falling, he stood up and looked around until he saw Blackburn. Then he started for the Fury. He looked sluggish and dizzy, but he still held the wrench.

Blackburn scrambled past the silver post as Ed crawled underneath the car after him, and Ed's wrench only glanced off the sole of his shoe. But as Blackburn came out from under the left side of the Fury, Earl yelled and lumbered toward him. So Blackburn rolled onto his back and kicked Earl in the crotch. As Earl doubled over, Blackburn got to his feet and jabbed his thumb into Earl's throat. Earl dropped to his knees, and Blackburn grabbed the dangling control box again. He pressed the red button marked DOWN.

Ed had crawled halfway out from under the Fury when the hydraulic lift's left brace came down across his back. He gurgled, looking angrier than ever, and then spat a red glob at Blackburn. It missed. The hydraulic lift whined and settled.

Blackburn released the button. Earl was on his hands and knees against the broken waiting-room door, coughing. There was a puddle of drool on the floor under his mouth.

"You sound underinflated," Blackburn said. "Keep that up and you'll be running on cord." He grasped the collar of Earl's coveralls and began dragging him to the rear of the garage. As they passed Ed, Earl grunted and grabbed Blackburn around the knees, bringing him to a halt. Blackburn became irritated. These guys had wasted his day, and now Earl was trying to draw things out even longer. Blackburn kicked free, knocked Earl's head against the floor, and resumed dragging him.

Blackburn propped Earl in a sitting position against the back wall, then pulled the valve from the end of the air-compressor hose. The hose hissed, and the compressor kicked on. Blackburn put the hose into Earl's mouth and shoved it down as far as it would go. Then he sealed Earl's mouth and nose with electrical tape, wrapping the tape around and around Earl's head.

When he ran out of tape, Blackburn went to the front of the garage, opened the left bay door, and got into the Fury. The key was in the ignition, and the car started on the first try. He backed it out, then turned it off and came back inside to close the bay door. He took a ring of keys from Ed's pocket, went into the waiting room, and unlocked the cash drawer. In addition to Blackburn's three hundred, the drawer contained two hundred and forty-two dollars in cash and over fifteen hundred in checks. Blackburn took the cash. Then he pocketed the yellow forms for the Fury and for Mrs. Stopes's Chevy.

Something out in the garage went pow. Blackburn didn't bother to go see what it was.

He drove Mrs. Stopes's Chevy to the small house at the address on her yellow form. He parked it in the driveway and left the two hundred and forty-two dollars in an envelope on the dash. He enclosed a note that read, "You are our thousandth customer. Here is your prize. Your car is fixed. You do not need to come back. Best, E. amp; E."

Then Blackburn walked back to Ed amp; Earl's Auto Service. It was dark now, and a cold mist was falling. He pursed his lips to suck in the moisture. It had been a beautiful day. He wished that he hadn't had to spend most of it cooped up in Ed and Earl's waiting room.

When he reached the garage, he could hear the air compressor running inside. But he had turned off the lights before leaving, so the place looked empty. The windows in the bay doors showed him his own face under a streetlight halo. He got into the Fury and drove to his apartment.