He clamped it to a bedpost and adjusted the focus. He snapped the switch set in the smooth underside.
Five minutes later the mannikin was a bright, gooey mess on his bed.
The large disassembleator, Sam was convinced as he tidied his room, did require the supervision of a Census Keeper. Some sort of keeper anyway. He rescued as many of the legless creature’s constituents as he could, although he doubted he’d be using the set for the next fifty years or so. He certainly wouldn’t ever use the disassembleator again; much less spectacular and disagreeable to shove the whole thing into a meat grinder and crank the handle as it squashed inside.
As he locked the door behind him on his way to a gentle binge, he made a mental note to purchase some fresh sheets the next morning. He’d have to sleep on the floor tonight.
Wrist-deep in Somerset Ojack minutiae, Sam was conscious of Lew Knight’s stares and Tina’s puzzled glances. If they only knew, he exulted! But Tina would probably just think it “marr-vell-ouss!” and Lew Knight might make some crack like “Hey! Kid Frankenstein himself.” Come to think of it, though, Lew would probably have worked out some method of duplicating, to a limited extent, the contents of the Bild-A-Man set and marketing it commercially. Whereas he—well, there were other things you could do with the gadget. Plenty of other things.
“Hey, counselor,” Lew Knight was perched on the corner of his desk, “what are these long weekends we’re taking? You might not make as much money in the law, but does it look right for an associate of mine to sell magazine subscriptions on the side?”
Sam stuffed his ears mentally against the emery-wheel voice. “I’ve been writing a book.”
“A law book? Weber On Bankruptcy?”
“No, a juvenile. Lew Knight, The Neanderthal Nitwit”
“Won’t sell. The title lacks punch. Something like Knights, Knaves and Knobheads is what the public goes for these days. By the way, Tina tells me you two had some sort of understanding about New Year’s Eve and she doesn’t think you’d mind if I took her out instead. I don’t think you’d mind either, but I may be prejudiced. Especially since I have a table reservation at Cigale’s where there’s usually less of a crowd of a New Year’s Eve than at the Automat.”