He slouched out of his chair, went over to the reference table, picked up the city directory, and lugged it back to the desk. Doggedly he opened the book, located the East Lake listings, and made some notes of names and addresses. He dawdled, reluctant to start phoning. He walked to the window and looked out at the weather. He wished he didn’t have to work. He thought of the kitchen sink at home. Plugged up again. He’d taken it apart, and there were couplings and pipes and union joints spread all over the place. Today, he thought, would be a nice day to fix that sink.
When he went back to the desk, McKay came and stood over him.
‘What do you think of it, Joe?’
‘Screwball,’ said Crane, hoping McKay would call it off.
‘Good feature story, though,’ said the editor. ‘Have some fun with it.’
‘Sure,’ said Crane.
McKay left and Crane made some calls. He got the sort of reaction that he expected.
He started to write the story. It didn’t go so well. A sewing machine went for a stroll down Lake Street this morning … He ripped out the sheet and threw it in the waste-basket.
He dawdled some more, then wrote: A man met a sewing machine rolling down Lake Street this morning and the man lifted his hat most politely and said to the sewing machine … He ripped out the sheet.
He tried again: Can a sewing machine walk? That is, can it go for a walk without someone pushing it or pulling it or … He tore out the sheet, inserted a new one, then got up and started for the water fountain to get a drink.