(xx) Uncle Fletcher Cleans House

Well sir, it's fifteen minutes past nine o'clock in the morning, as our scene opens now, and here in the living room of the small house, halfway up in the next block, we find Mrs. Victor Gook all by herself. Mrs. Gook is up the telephone chatting with her friend and confidant Mrs. Frederick Stembottom, and we hear her say regretfully,

Gee Ruthie I'd like to, but I'm afraid I just can't. No, I've laid out a whole big smear of work for myself this morning. I thought I'd clean my downstairs and really get in the corners.

Yes, I've been kind of slighting my dusting here lately. Givin' stuff just a lickin' of promise, don't ya know? Well, if you're gone downtown the Amazon, shouldn't you might pick me up a dozen or so wash rags? Is there what they're cracked up to be in their advertisements?

Oh, I'll leave it to you. What's it, hey? Sure. How did it buy at home? Uh-huh. Just a second, Ruthie. Somebody out in the back. Yeah. Hey, baby. Hello, Uncle Fletcher. I'm in the living room.

Why? It's Uncle Fletcher, Ruthie. Uh-huh. Oh, he's after dropping anytime. I'm afraid I'll have to send him along about his business. Yes, I'm determined to put this house to rights this morning. Oh, I'm just a baby, baby.

Well, Ruthie, I'd love to run downtown with you, lady, but... I guess I better not. You go ahead and see what you can accomplish on the wash-ride question. Somebody will run it on the telephone.

Alright. Well call me up to soon and report on how you come out. You bet. Alrighty Ruthie. Goodbye. Well I can flex you. Good morning, sweetie. Good morning. You look fresh and bright. Yes! Forrest day!