As might have been expected, the Grouch began to Roast him. He told
him that he didn't have as much Business Gumption as a Belgian Hare
and a Chump who would walk into Debt with his Eyes open deserved to
get it right in the Collar.
"If you're looking for Sympathy, you've barked up the wrong Tree,"
said the Grouch.
"I'm not," was the Reply. "I've just received enough Sympathy to last
me all Winter."
The Grouch snarled and reached for his Check Book.
"You can have whatever you need, but you don't deserve it," he said,
and he signed it, leaving it Blank above.
"In view of the Fact that you have saved my Life, I will try to
forgive you for lacerating my Feelings," said the Married Man.
They retained the Flat, but the Grouch is just as Unpopular as ever.
* * * * *
MORAL: A Friend who is very Near and Dear may in Time become as
useless as a Relative.
* * * * *
_THE REGULAR KIND OF A PLACE AND THE USUAL WAY IT TURNED OUT_
Once there was a home-like Beanery where one could tell the Day of the
Week by what was on the Table.
The Stroke Oar of this Food Bazaar had been in the Business for 20
years, and she had earned her Harp three times over. The Prune Joke
never touched her, and she had herself trained so as not to hear any
sarcastic Cracks about the Oleo. She prided herself on the Atmosphere
of Culture that permeated the Establishment, and on the Fact that
she did not harbor any Improper Characters.
Pages:
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54