Capital punishment -- Fiction; Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Criminals -- Fiction; Prisoners -- Fiction
kind of glared at me, but I let on not to notice her.
“Pretty soon I smelt the steak fryin’ and went out in the kitchen. When
I got out there I found the steak fryin’ in the skillet all right and
her just takin’ up the tea kettle to pour water on it. Now this made me
mad, for that wa’n’t no way to fry steak. You know yourself that you
lose all the flavor of the steak by pourin’ water on it; that makes it
more like boiled meat than it does like beefsteak. I just saw her in
time, and I called out, ‘What are you doin’? Put down that kettle. Don’t
you know better’n to pour water on beefsteak?’ She said, ‘You shut up
and go back in the settin’ room, or I’ll pour the water on you.’ I said,
‘No, you won’t; put down that kettle. How many times have I told you
better’n to pour water on steak? It’s hard enough for me to get the
money for a steak without lettin’ you spoil it that way.’ I started to
grab her hand, but before I could reach it she tipped the nozzle over
into the skillet and poured a lot of water in, and the steam and hot
water and grease kind of spattered up in my face. I don’t know whether I
struck her or not; anyhow I grabbed the kettle, and when the nozzle
turned round some of the hot water got onto me, and burned me a little.
I put the kettle down and said, ‘Damn you, what do you mean by spoilin’
the steak every time I get it? If you ever do a thing like that again,
I’ll cut your throat.’
“Now, of course, I hadn’t no idea of cuttin’ her throat, no matter how
often she done it. ‘Twas just a way I had of showin’ how mad I was about
what she’d done. You see she done it a-purpose for I’d told her plenty
of times before, and I told her then before any of the water got into
the skillet, and she just poured it in to spite me. Then she said, ‘You
drunken loafer, I’d like to see you try to cut my throat. I just dare
you to do it. You don’t need to wait until you bring home another steak;
ain’t likely I’ll be here by the time you bring home any more steak. I
don’t care what the Settlement people and the priest say about it, I’m
going to quit you. I’ve stood this thing just as long as I’m goin’ to,’
and she fairly screamed, just on purpose, so the neighbors could hear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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