“Look, you crummy four-eyed b*#^rds!” I shouted. “Either you publish my novel complete, as it is, or I take it elsewhere!”

     The two old men exchanged frightened glances.  Did he mean it, or was he bluffing? I was, but on the other hand I'd had it up to here with their fawning and simpering.  I'd had enough of them.  There were other publishers and better ones, only I felt a weird, misguided sense of loyalty to Fawcette and Daniels. They had published all of my books up to now, but I had a nasty suspicion that they were making more out of them than I was.

     “Well?” I said, hands on hips, “What's it to be?  Publish it unabridged or …?” I let the words trail off menacingly. 

     They looked even more worried now.  Obviously I meant it.  They started conferring in whispers, like the furtive b*>/@ds that they were.  I picked up the manuscript from the middle of the desk and started for the door.

     “Wait, Mr. Merriweather!” screeched Fawcette.  “We…we need time to…to think.  We have the public at large to consider!”

     “Public at large my a---!” I thundered. 

     Daniels blushed and they reacted both of them like animals.  They looked---and were---ridiculous.  I turned and opened the door.

     “But Mr. Merriweather…!” came a frantic bleat, but I ignored it and slammed the door shut.  B***** to them!  I had better things to do…which reminded me, I wanted to see Cathy.  Who didn't!?  She was my favorite girl-friend and back in the old days she would probably have been described as a Red Hot Mama.  I loosened my collar and began to feel a little better.  Fawcette and Daniels could go and…

     Cathy was just getting dressed as I entered her second-floor suite.  She always seemed to be either just getting dressed or just getting undressed.  She hadn't heard me come in so I crept over and kissed her gently on the back of the neck.  She jumped about three feet up into the air and spun around.  “Oh, it's you, Teddy!”

     I wish she wouldn't call me that.  She went back to pulling on her knickers.

     “Yes, it's me,” I said abstractedly.  I put the manuscript down on the coffee-table, and sat down next to it.  I watched Cathy getting dressed. She was quite a sight, a beauty in fact, although her brains left a lot to be desired.  I decided that my feelings toward her were too mixed to be worth thinking about.  I couldn't really afford to get married, so I could save myself the effort of thinking about that.  Anyway, she had other boyfriends.  Some were well-off, and, generally speaking, she moved about in higher social circles than I did.  I groveled about in the gutter most of the time.  She seemed attracted to me, though, despite all this, and I thought I knew why.  I…

     “How did you get on?” she asked, breaking into my reverie.

     “Eh!?”  I said stupidly.

     “Your new novel.  You know---THE DOOM BLASTERS.”

     “Oh, that!” I replied.  “Ha!  I had a slight fracas with Fawcette and Daniels again.  They wanted to cut out all the naughty bits and I refused.  I told them what to do with their publishing company as well.”

     Cathy frowned a little at this.  “What did they say to that?” she asked.  She was nearly dressed now.

     “Oh, they ummed and arred, so I cleared off,” I explained.  “Let them cool their heels for awhile.  They know it's good stuff.  I threatened to go to a different publisher and they couldn't take it at all!”  I laughed.  I patted Cathy's derriere fondly and walked over to the window.  Down in the street some overalled workmen were digging up the road again.  As I stood watching them, one of them,  a surly-looking, thickly-built specimen, noticed me watching.  A snarl appeared on his face and he shook his fist up at me.

     “Ain't you got nothing to do but stand there gawking?” he bellowed, waving his pickaxe at me. 

     I opened the window a bit wider.  “Are you talking to me, you great big ape?” I countered. “Or are you chewing a banana?”

     That did it.  He laid down his pickaxe and was storming across the narrow road toward the main entrance of the block.  It would take him a minute or two to get up here. I made sure that the door was locked, then turned to Cathy, who was standing irresolutely in the middle of the room, now fully dressed.  “You know that mallet,” I said.  “The one you used to frighten the dog with?”  She nodded, frowning.  “Well, go and get it.  And quickly!”

     “What do you…?”

     “Just get it!” I shouted.  “That caveman'll be up here in a minute!”

     She raced off into the kitchen and I heard her rummaging about, knocking things over.

     “Hurry it up!” I told her, listening.  I could hear the big Neanderthal at the foot of the stairs outside.  Cathy came running back, carrying the large wooden mallet, with difficulty, in both hands.  It was a formidable weapon, all right.  She handed it to me and I grasped it firmly.  “Now,” I said to her, “when he knocks on the door, you let him in, but don't look at me, whatever you do.  Understand?”

     “Yes, but…?”

     “---Just do as I say,” I told her. 

     The stamping steps were approaching the door now.  There was a furious hammering and the ape's gruff voice came through loud and clear.

     “Hey, you, in there!” he shouted.  “I'll knock your head off!  I'll…!”

     By now I was perched on a high stool just to one side of the door. The door would open away from me.  I brandished the mallet in readiness.  “Right. Let him in,” I said quietly.

     She unlatched the door and opened it slightly.  He came charging through.

     “Where's that damn…?!” 

     I let him have it right on the top of the head.  He sank to the floor in a disorganized heap, with only a slight moan.  I grinned.

     “That's the way to deal with them.”

     Cathy was hovering around looking a little pale.  The charging giant had almost knocked her over.  “Is he all right?  He isn't dead, is he?”

     I snorted.  “No, of course not!  Merely stunned, my dear.”  I stood with one arm around her for a moment, surveying the scene of the battle, as it were, then I opened the door wide and dragged the big lug out onto the landing.  Then I had an idea, an amusing one.  There was a banister of sorts which ran smoothly all the way down to the ground floor.  I loaded him astride it, head down, and gave him a slight push.  He slid beautifully all the way down to the bottom and landed crumpled up on the linoleum.  I grinned again.  “Yes, that's the way to deal with them,” I said again.  Cathy was watching horror-stricken and I kissed her.

     “Go and fetch THE DOOM BLASTERS for me,” I said cheerfully.

     She went off numbly to get it and I stood whistling “The Hallelujah Chorus”.

     Sometimes it's fun being an sf writer.

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