Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
“‘Let’s pull down the blinds. It was their whirl at the bat. They
brought all the folks, includin’ the old man and Tommy the cop.
“‘They yee-hooed on my feet till I had to holler for mercy. Then they
sat on the curb and rocked and hollered like the pack of fools they
were. They tried to lift my shoulders up, but found that my coat had
took a violent affection for the sidewalk, too. Some of ’em didn’t
even try for the curbstone then. They rolled around on the sidewalk
and kicked their legs, whilst I frayed my vocal chords readin’ their
customs and habits to ’em.
“‘But I was in a runnin’ noose; the harder I cussed at ’em, the worse
they laughed.
“‘“Ain’t he the slick one, though!” says the old man, holdin’ on to his
stummick with both hands. “Don’t do nothin’ more to him for a minute,
boys, or the coroner’ll be sittin’ on me.”
“‘Every time I gee-nashed my teeth an’ tried to reach ’em they waltzed
on one leg and shrieked. There must ’a’ been nigh three hundred fools
watchin’ and havin’ the time of their lives. Little messenger-boys was
there, the night-watchmen took a peep, ladies with a past improved a
shinin’ present, the dago shoeblacks heard the racket and come runnin’
up and hollered, “Choon-gum extract! Ten a cent!”
“‘And there I lay, flat on my back, with my knees in the air, scart to
move, because I couldn’t wiggle a finger without the crowd throwin’
a fit. Oh, murder! Le’s cut it! They unlaced my shoes and snaked me
out of my coat, and instead of bein’ sad at them pathetical shoes and
coat lying in the coal-tar, the boss fell over sideways and the rest
was too feeble to stop me as I broke away. I made that block in two
stocking-footed leps.
“‘I had a hundred or two in my pants. I bought three dollars’ worth
of coat and shoes from a second-hand store for fifteen dollars and a
promise that if anything happened I wouldn’t mention the shop to the
police. Then I come here, far from the gadding crowds, far from the
lady with the developed jaw-swing, and I get--that.’
“Here,” said Mr. Scraggs, “he p’inted to my chewin’-gum and wiped his
white brow off with his white handkercher, and he says: ‘Have we come
to this?’
“I swallered hard and looked at him.
“‘Have you such a thing as a plug of terbackker in your possession?’
“‘Yes,’ says he, surprised. ‘I have.’
“‘Well,’ says I, ‘ruther than to further add to your troubles, I’ll
break my word to a lady--gimme that plug! We haven’t come to this--this
has come to us.’
“So I explained, and he opened his stock exchange. I reckon he was
right about the bad effects of chewin’-gum, too, or maybe what’s a
medal winner in N’ York ain’t art west of the Missouri. Anyhow, you
don’t hear me kickin’ about that nice missionary young lady. If I cared
for joolry, I’d be wearin’ that tin-horn’s diamon’ chest protector
right now. Gum has different effects on different people. ’Twas fatal
to his constitooshun.”
XI
BLESSED BE THE PEACEMAKERS
THE QUEST FOR QUIET ON THE PART OF THE HUMAN CONCERTINA
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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