(xx) Five Christmas Card Salesmen

Well sir, the noon day meal has been over only a few minutes as we enter the small house halfway up in the next block now. And here in the living room we find Mr. and Mrs. Victor Gook and young Mr. Rush Gook enjoying a season of rest against the activities of the afternoon.

And the master of the main eyes who is lounging in his easy chair is saying, Say-di, you may produce the sheep away, his letter, his postal cards and cable-grams, as delivered by the mailman. Oh, golly.

Brush out on the buffet. Something for me? No. Yes, I guess there is too. Mailed by the bushel we got. Hundreds of beautiful women heavily raised and greatly agitated. No doubt. Grap me a lion to assure me that they love.

Yeah. Beautiful women seem to adore me. I guess they find my good looks irresistible. Funny thing, with all my life, I've been a tiger. Clean burgers drop to a lion, assuring you their love. Indeed.

Also, they adore to have you pay them their two dollars as soon as convenient. Creeburger, you're a coyote, kettish, raskin'. I understand you're a rogue, you smote, you've been dudded. Funny school teacher wrote me a letter by mistake.

A mistake? We missed you last Sunday. You were there last Sunday? Sure, it was. Turn funny, she missed me. I was conspicuous as a horse. I slapped the nickel in the collection plate and also fell off my chair with a crash I bet they heard in Peoria.

Made myself conspicuous as a horse. And she sends me a note she missed me last Sunday. Perhaps her note is an ironic gesture. No, my theory is she's being sarcastic. I think she resented me making myself conspicuous as a horse.