CHAPTER TWO
Dick Blaster eyed the address sheet and then looked up to the front of the house, just to make sure the numbers on the porch matched the numbers on his route-list. Yeah, this is the dump, he thought to himself as he stood alongside his beat up Pontiac, addressing himself in the reflection of the car window on the passenger side. You go in there, d**k, and you sell them one of these units, or you quit all together, buddy ... It's your last chance ... He straightened his tie and fixed the collar. You go in there and sell this broad whatever you can ... however you need to do it ... just sell ... sell ... sell ... and remember ... you need the money ... you and Margo need the dough, pal ... Oh, yeah, Margo ... An image of his voluptuous wife popped into his brain, and he quickly
