The Great and Secrete Show – Barker, Clive

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committed, right from the first, the littlest.

“What are you waiting for?” Homer said, seeing Jaffe linger. “You’ve got

work to do. The sooner it’s started, the sooner I can find you more. “

Randolph stepped into the room. It was large, painted the same bilious

yellow and battleship gray as every other office and corridor in the Omaha

Central Post Office. Not that much of the walls was visible. Piled higher

than head-height on every side was mail. Sacks, satchels, boxes and carts

of it, spilling out onto the cold concrete floor.

“Dead letters, ” Homer said. “Stuff even the good ol’ U.S. Post Office can’t

deliver. Quite a sight, huh?”

Jaffe was agog, but he made sure not to show it. He made sure to show

nothing, especially to wise guys like Homer.

“This is all yours, Randolph, ” his superior said. “Your little corner of

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Jaffe said.

“Sort it. Open it, look for any important stuff so we don’t end up putting

good money in the furnace. “

“There’s money in them?”

“It’s the middle of the country,” Jaffe observed. “Gateway to the West. Or

East. Depending on which way you’re facing.”

“Ain’t the dead center,” Homer countered. “But we still end up with all the

crap. And it’s all got to get sorted. By band. By you.”