Decoration Day Parade

Well, sir, it's late afternoon as we enter the small house halfway off the next flat now. And here in the living room we find Mrs. Victor Gough and young Mr. Roscoe. But at this moment it's heard the voice of Mr. Victor Gough.

Listen. Your home say? Yeah. You know as I'm home I give my airy way to the hand of mine. Everybody call me on the telephone. No. Not at all. No, what's the matter? You're right in there.

Move over, actually, let me sit down. Something wrong. Something wrong. Let me get my breath here. Anybody from the city hall called, I say, phone has no all afternoon. I try to get in touch with Mayor Simmons who I had a baby who wasn't in his office.

Just the message with his secretary. What's the matter? I got a baby to call gun. Yeah? Mr. Ruby's business. Where they have a conference with two men from New York headquarters tomorrow afternoon, and then on Sunday morning there's another big shot from Des Moines joining me.

Well, I couldn't go along, could I, Gus? No. I don't want to try to get out of the kiddo because it's time to look at my cap so the boss can bite me. He generally tastes like me such a rhythm when he goes on his tits like me.

Well, what would you want to try to get out of the corn? What would I want to try to get out of the corn? No. Wouldn't you know? No. Then these decorations days. I'm going to charge you the parade.

Oh. Don't. I couldn't these company officials get together some other week, where any other weekend. You're a half a Mr. Parade? This month's raid. How can they be a parade? You mean what do I mean?