Parking, Unlimited
By Noel Loomis
It was a wonderful plan, a boon to humanity.
And solving the parking problem would make a fortune
for Slim and me. But when the secret got out ...
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Future combined with Science Fiction Stories May-June 1950.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I could have taken that three hundred dollars and gone to school for a year, by washing dishes two hours a night. I had worked for that money, too; shocking wheat for twelve hours a day in the August sun is no vacation. But Slim Coleman convinced me that we could run that three hundred into enough to take us both for four years.
I hadn't even had time to get a haircut—and I did want a haircut; now it was pretty shaggy.
But Slim, diplomat that he is, didn't even seem to notice my hair. "I've got a real deal," he said, and his deep eyes were shining with enthusiasm. "Have you got any money?"
"Some," I said cautiously.
"It takes three hundred. Have you got that much?"