“You’re a gloomy old duck, aren’t you?” said the orderly.
“Is that a crime?” said the painter.
“If you don’t like it here, Grandpa—” he orderly finished the thought with the trick telephone number that people who didn’t want to live anymore were supposed to call. The zero in the telephone number he pronounced “naught.”
The number was 2BR02B.
It was the telephone number of an institution whose fanciful sobriquets included ‘Automat, ”
“Birdland, ”
“Cannery, ”
“Catbox, ”
“Delouser, ”
“Easy Go, ”
“Good-bye, Mother, ”
“Happy Hooligan, ”
“Kiss Me Quick, ”
“Lucky Pierre, ”
“Sheepdip, ”
“Waring Blender, ”
“Weep No More, ” and “Why Worry?”
“To Be or Not to Be” was the telephone number of the municipal gas chambers of the Federal Bureau of Termination.