Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction June 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
the water eater
By WIN MARKS
Illustrated by BALBALIS
Most experiments were dropped because they failed—and somebecause they worked too well!
just lost a weekend. I ain't too anxious to find it. Instead, I surewish I had gone fishing with McCarthy and the boys like I'd planned.
I drive a beer truck for a living, but here it is almost noon Mondayand I haven't turned a wheel. Sure, I get beer wholesale, and I havebeen known to take some advantage of my discount. But that wasn't whathappened to this weekend.
Instead of fishing or bowling or poker or taking the kids down to theamusement park over Saturday and Sunday, I've been losing sleep overan experiment.
Down at the Elks' Club, the boys say that for a working stiff I have avery inquiring mind. I guess that's because they always see me readingPopular Science and Scientific American and such, instead ofheading for the stack of Esquires that are piled a foot deep in themiddle of the big table in the reading room, like the rest of them do.
Well, it was my inquiring mind that lost me my wife, the skin of myright hand, a lot of fun and sleep—yeah, not a wink of sleep for twodays now! Which is the main reason I'm writing this down now. I'veread somewheres that if you wrote down your troubles, you could getthem out of your system.
I thought I had troubles Friday night when I pulled into the drivewayand Lottie yelled at me from the porch, "The fire's out! And it'sflooded. Hurry up!"
Trouble, hah! That was just the beginning.
ottie is as cute a little ex-waitress as ever flipped the suds off aglass of beer, but she just ain't mechanically minded. The day UncleAlphonse died and left us $2500 and I went out and bought a kitchenand shed full of appliances for her, that was a sad day, all right.She has lived a fearful life ever since, too proud of her dishwasherand automatic this and that to consider selling them, but scared stiffof the noises they make and the vibrations and all the mysteriousdials and lights, etc.
So this Friday afternoon when the oil-burner blew out from the highwind, she got terrified, sent the kids over to their grandmother's ina cab and sat for two hours trying to make up her mind whether to callthe fire department or the plumber.
Meanwhile, this blasted oil stove was overflowing into the fire pot.
"Well, turn it off!" I yelled. "I'll be in right away!"
I ducked into the garage and got a big handful of rags and a hunk ofstring and a short stick. This I have been through before. I went inand kissed her pretty white face, and a couple of worry linesdisappeared.
"Get me a pan or something," I said and started dismantling the frontof the heater.
These gravity-flow oil heaters weren't built to make it easy to drainoff excess oil. There's a brass plug at the inlet, but no one inhistory has been able