"You're mistaken," he said.
"I'm not mistaken. Don't be foolish. I came in here this afternoon and bought a typewriter. A Remington Noiseless portable. It cost me five dollars, and...."
He shook his head vigorously. "Oh, no, no. You're mistaken."
"Oh hell, there's no sense talking to you. When will your boss be back?"
"I have no boss," he said indignantly. "I am my own boss. I own this shop."
"Oh," I said, "I see. Well, this fat guy probably works for you then. Is he out to supper?"
His eyes narrowed. "There is no fat guy working for me. There is nobody working for me. I work alone."
"Huh?"
"I-work-alone," he said slowly, as if he were repeating the sentence for a sub-level moron.
"Alone?" I gulped hard.