The guard looked at him doubtfully. “It’s a shoe and it’s also a telephone? Where do you keep it?”
“On your foot.” Max raised his foot. “See? That’s it right there.”
“It’s black,” the guard said.
“I’m aware of that.”
“Everybody has color phones these days.”
“Yes-but do they wear them on their foot?”
The guard thought for a moment. “That’s a point,” he admitted.
“Would you like to make a test call?” Max asked.
“Well. . I haven’t talked to Mom in a good while.”
Max took off his shoe. He asked the guard for his mother’s number, dialed it, then handed the shoe to the guard.
Mom: Just terrible, now that you ask. I’ve got pains in my back, pains in my shoulders, pains in my legs, and my only son never calls me. Who’s this?
Guard: It’s me, Mom. Guess what I’m calling from?
Mom: You’re probably calling from your shoe. You’ve always been a strange boy. I remember when you used to talk for hours into a soup can. Nobody ever answered, though, did they, boy? Didn’t that learn you? If you’ve taken to talking into a shoe, give it up boy. Nobody’ll answer.
Guard: You sure know how to take the fun off a surprise, Mom.
Mom: Is that why you haven’t called? ’Fraid I’d make fun of you, calling on a shoe? I’ll change, boy. I promise. You call me on your shoe any time you want. I won’t say a word about it. Just to hear your voice, that’s all I want. You call me on your shoe, or your shirt, or your garters or anything you want, boy. Just call me, that’s all.
Guard: You want to know why I don’t call you, Mom?
Mom: Why, boy?
Guard: You’re a nutty old lady.
Mom: Son, you call me a nutty old lady all you want-just so you call me, that’s what’s important.
The guard handed the shoe back to Max. “Not interested,” he said.
“But it’s a fabulous gadget!”
“What’s so fabulous about it? It’s the same as the phone out in the booth. Pick it up, and you get the same nutty old lady.”
“You could dial another number, you know,” Max said.
The guard shook his head. “She’s got me hexed,” he said. “No matter what number I dial, I get the same nutty old lady.” He leaned forward, whispered. “And you know what? She’s not even my mom!”
“She isn’t?”
“I got her one time when I dialed a wrong number. Haven’t been able to shake her.” He pointed to Max’s shoe phone. “You’ll probably never be able to get her off the line,” he said. “When it comes to a hex, she’s dynamite.”
“Nonsense,” Max said.
The guard shrugged and went back to his post.
Max looked at his shoe. He put the receiver to his ear.
Mom: — except a Mother’s Day card, but the least you could do is call me every five or ten minutes or so. I get lonely, boy. Dad won’t talk to me anymore, you know-not since we buried him. He was a good old man, but-
Max put the shoe back on his foot.
“Still on, Max?” 99 asked.
“She’ll get tired when she doesn’t get any answer,” Max said confidently. “Right now, 99, our big problem is to get out of here and rescue Hymie and Number One. Sickness, fire and bribery haven’t helped. So, what next? Isn’t it about time you thought of something?”
“Well, Max, we might call the Chief and have him send reinforcements.”
“That’s a great idea, 99! Why didn’t you mention it before?”
“Well, Max, I don’t have much seniority. It didn’t occur to me that my idea would be worth anything.”
“It’s such a natural,” Max said. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.”
Max removed his shoe and put the receiver to his ear.
Mom: — on Christmas, but you could have at least telephoned me. I had nobody to talk to but Santy. And he wasn’t saying anything fit to hear. He burned his boots in the fireplace, and you’d think it was the last pair of boots in all creation, the way he carried on. I told him, I said, if you’d brought me a call from my sonny-boy, ’stead of that tinker-toy set, you’d’ve got a warmer welcome. He said it was warm enough as it was. Well, I told-
Max: Lady, would you get off the line, please? I have an important call to make.
Mom: Sonny-boy! I thought you’d hung up on me, as always. What a joy it is to this old heart to hear your voice again. How long has it been? A half-hour? Seems more like forty-five minutes.
Max: Lady, I’ve never talked to you before in my life. I’m not your son. And, according to that other fellow, he’s not your son, either. Wise up, lady. Whether you know it or not, you’ve been disconnected for a long time.
Mom: Insult me! Go on! It’s music to my ears. You don’t have to love me, just talk to me. Call me a nutty old lady, like you always do. I know how happy that makes you. And what’s a mother for? To make her baby-boy happy, that’s what a mother’s for.
Max placed his shoe back on his foot. “Now I know why I didn’t think of it, 99,” he said. “It wasn’t such a hot idea. The line is busy.”
9
Every quarter-hour or so, Max tried again to get through to the Chief to ask for reinforcements. But each time he found that Mom was still on the line. Eventually, however, the problem was solved. Ways and Means returned, accompanied by Hymie. And even if the line had been open it was unlikely that Ways and Means would have allowed Max to call the Chief, thus, the fact that it wasn’t open no longer mattered much.
“The fact that you’re here must mean that you got Number One straightened out,” Max said to Ways and Means. “You came back to gloat, I assume.”
“Button your lip, buster!” Hymie said to Max. “Secret agents should be seen but not heard.”
Max peered at him. “Hymie?”
“They brainwashed him, Max,” 99 explained. “Remember? They said they were going to turn him into a KAOS agent.”
“Well, you certainly did a top-drawer job of it,” Max said to Ways and Means. “He even has that evil look in his eyes.”
“When we do a job, we do a job,” Ways said.
“And what about Number One?” Max asked.
“That’s a different story,” Ways said gloomily. “We took this robot to her, but she wouldn’t even give him a second click. She’s still reciting that crummy poetry.”
“Anything worth hearing?” Max asked.
“She’s still working on her epic,” Ways replied.
“You mean the one that goes: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways? You mean she’s still counting?”
“She’s up to seven billion, six million, five hundred thousand, four hundred and thirty-two,” Ways replied.
“Baffling,” Max mused. “I was sure it was Hymie she was pining for.” He suddenly brightened. “Maybe it’s because you turned him into a KAOS agent. Number One could never love a KAOS agent. Her heart belongs to the Establishment, you know.”
“That’s not it,” Means said. “We took him to her before we brainwashed him. Nothing. We figured it was because we hadn’t gimmicked him yet. So, after, we took him back. Still nothing.”
“All right-let’s not give up,” Max said. “If we all put on our thinking caps, I’m sure-”
“Max!” 99 interrupted. “We’re not supposed to help them. They’re the Bad Guys.”
“Oh. . yes. A challenge always fascinates me. Sometimes I get carried away.”
“We’ve got the problem solved, anyway,” Means said.
“Really? What’s the answer?” Max asked.
“We’ve decided to fall back on KAOS Rule No. 1,” Ways replied. “It goes: When in trouble, kill somebody.”
Max thought for a moment, then said, “I don’t see how that could help in this situation.”
“Beats me, too,” Means said. “But we’ve tried playing it by ear, and that hasn’t worked. So, we’re going to revert to going by the book-starting with Rule No. 1.”