1940-12-xx (xx) HK Fleeber's Forty-Eight Teeth

Well sir, it's early evening as our scene opens now, and here in the living-room of the small house halfway up in the next block we find Mr. and Mrs. Victor Gook and their son Mr. Rush Gook.

Saden, young Rush, are seated on the Davenport with sections of the newspaper, while Vic, established at the library table, stares blankly at a sheet of paper and toys with the fountain pen. At length he glances at his wife remarking.

Oh, God, Nith. What's the trouble? I'm not getting anywhere. Can't think of anything to say? Well, there isn't much day. You can say the whole thing in one sentence. Well, how long is your article supposed to be?

A thousand words. Is that quite a bit? Sure. How much space does a thousand words fill up? Oh, page maybe. That is a page the size they have in the kitchen or a dealer's quarterly.

I thought this would be easy. Had the idea I could dash it right off as I could write. I remember you writing magazine articles before gov and getting stuck. Yeah, that's true, but on technical subjects, this piece is supposed to be breezy and informal.

I mean, this was a trick to knocking out any kind of a magazine article. Well, what did the Kitchenware dealer quarterly fella say in their letter? You want to go get it, Pete? In your coat pocket?

Yeah, my coat's hanging over the banister in the hallway. I figured I could whip out a thousand word piece in half an hour, and even hit on the satisfactory sentences started off with. H.K. Fleaborer of Gravelman, South Carolina, started to thin his mouth from every state and union.