(xx) A Garbage Wagon Pass

Well sir, it's about the middle of the afternoon as we enter the small house halfway up on the mixed box now. And here in the living room we find Mr. Victor Dook all by himself.

I tell him a moment or so ago, Vic was at the library table concentrating on a special piece of work brought home from the office. But now he's responding to the telephones a lot. Listen.

Well I hope, Stady, you didn't call me up to drag me away from my work just to see how I was getting along. Well I'm getting along with rotten things. Oh, I got off on the wrong foot by adding up a column of figures carelessly.

Iniitiotically mistraced the decimal point. My fountain pen went on the brink and had to be fixed. Huh? Yeah. Uh-huh. Well, why are you calling, kiddo? Ms. Trogel? No, she didn't. The landlord's half-wit daughter, Bueller, called up, though.

I don't know what in Sunday she wanted. business with you but the number of women was in a mood to chat no less was not home and you won't be home I give them a spic door does not to put in an appearance until five o'clock yeah okay kiddo yeah see you later you bet dr

please hello oh my oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh that goes a lot and the box tells me it's all somebody come in the kitchen oh wait hello Uncle Fetchy that you think hey yes how are you why didn't jazz for me the tenfold jig is a tenfold jig but didn't jazz for me when I'm a harlot oh you Harry you appreciate a