(xx) The Davises Are Asleep Upstairs

By Virginia Avenue standards, it's quite late at night, as our scene opens now, almost 11.45 o'clock. And here in the living room of the small house, halfway up on the next block, we find Mr. Victor Gook and Mr. Rush Gook.

Rush, clad in pajamas and bathrobe, occupies his father's easy chair. He seems uneasy. Vic, who has just this moment arrived home from a meeting of the sacred stars of the Milky Way, removes his hat and contemplates his son with disapproval.

He's saying, you know what time it is? Getting on for 12. Or more romantically, midnight. Tomorrow's a school day, innit, my friend? Yeah. One takes advantage of one's mother's absence. How you mean? Mom, don't allow you to sit up and read this late.

There's Sir Lieutenant Stanley Book as interesting as heck. Couldn't force myself to lay it down. And besides that, another fact. Well, since we're bachelors and our domestic routine is out of adjustment, I overlooked the matter this time.

Did you put the milk bottle out? Yeah. Front door locked? Yeah. I took care of the back. So as we hit the hay. Alright. I was sleeping as a horse. Ahhh. Large meaning we asked it later and usual tonight, didn't it?

Uh huh. Didn't break up till 10th dirty. Then a half a dozen of us dropped in at the Greeks and ate scrambled eggs and talked over the European situation. Oh, but I wanted to leave stupid moment by head touchin' to be there.

Your pals show up to study algebra? Yeah, they do. Confish anything? Quite a bit. We ask each other review questions. Ask each other review questions the first ten minutes and then devote it to the remainder of the evening to jolly games and pastimes.