Part 4

It had been a fairly warm evening, but about 11 p.m. it became bitterly cold and Patrolman Snorkins decided he would chance it and go and fetch his great-coat. So slipping away from his beat he hurried round to his cottage and, throwing some gravel against his wife’s bedroom window, he shouted “Chuck me out my coat, old dear.”

The wife chucked out the coat and, putting it on in the darkness, he hurried back to his beat.

“Hello, Bill,” he said to his policeman pal who was waiting for him at the end of the beat. “I just slipped round and got my coat. It’s blooming cold, ain’t it?”

“It is,” agreed Bill, eyeing him curiously. “But, say, =when the devil did you get made a sergeant=?”

* * * * *

Mottoes of the Vampire

“Gee, I wish I had a ‘sucker’ like the other girlie has—” and

“I’d like to lose you—I’m so used to you now.”

_Jest Jokes and Jingles_

Let’s now sing, with all the alcoholic accuracy possible, that old familiar farmer’s wail: “I’ve got enough money to last me the rest of my life, providing I die tonight.”

* * * * *

Sign in Doctor’s Office

A man’s a fool to live in grief When he can get complete relief; A good prescription, now and then, Is relished by the best of men.

* * * * *

Fortune Teller: You wish to know about your future husband?

Customer: No; I wish to know about the past of my present husband for future use.

* * * * *

Lingo of the Limpid Lip

When a man says “Yes,” he means “Maybe”; When he says “Maybe,” he means “No”; When he says “No,” he’s no diplomat.

When a woman says “No,” she means “Maybe”; When she says “Maybe,” she means “Yes”; But if she says “Yes,” she’s no lady.

* * * * *

A girl on either side of twenty is merely interesting; at twenty she is dangerous.

* * * * *

She: “You didn’t have a shirt on your back when I first met you.”

He: “Well, then, why did you come in the bathroom without knocking?”

* * * * *

God made man Frail as a bubble; God made love, Love made trouble. God made the vine; Was it a sin That man made wine To drown trouble in?

* * * * *

We have just received our copy of the London Spectator, and conclude that the spirit of spring must have struck that staid and sober paper, for it prints several verses of the old song, “Johnnie and Frankie,” but with the wrong chorus. Every connoisseur knows that the real refrain is:

“He was her man, But he done her wrong.”

* * * * *

A gambling flea one day met some mice, Suggested a trip to the barn to shake dice; When in came a horse and stepped on the flea, And the flea squealed out, “There’s a horse on me.”

* * * * *

Look before you sleep—especially at the seaside.

* * * * *

More Lingering Lingerie

A man stepped up to the counter in a department store and the pretty saleslady asked him what he wanted. He hesitated for a moment and finally said, “I’ve forgotten whether I want a camisole or a casserole.”

“That depends whether you want to put a chicken or a hen in it,” replied the saleslady.

* * * * *

We have a very pretty housemaid named Mary. One Sunday morning I was about to take my bath but found no hot water, so I told Mary to be more careful and not use it all for kitchen work. The pastor and his wife were at dinner and as Mary brought in the dishes she remarked: “Mr. Henry, I will see you get your bath this afternoon.” The minister looked horrified, as my better half snapped, “Indeed, you will not.”

* * * * *

“The man laid down his book and tossed off his fifth drink of hooch. His wife looked up at him calmly and said:

“‘George, when you proposed to me you said you were not worthy to undo the latchets of my shoes.’

“George stared at her in amazement.

“‘Well, what of it?’ he snarled.

“‘Nothing,’ she answered, ‘only I will say for you that whatever else you were, you weren’t a liar.’”

* * * * *

The life sentence—“I will.”

* * * * *

Balaam Gets Sympathy

Being given a complimentary dinner previous to his departure for foreign climes, the guest, who was badly afflicted by stuttering, induced a friend to respond to the toast of his health for him, which he did very badly, so much so that the other rose and said:

“Fo-for the fir-first time in-in my li-life I un-understand Balaam’s fee-feelings when his ass spo-spoke for him.”

* * * * *

Heaven, Hell or Los Angeles

A colored trooper of Camp Kearney, California, wanted to visit his sweetheart in Los Angeles, but as he couldn’t get a furlough, he decided to go A.W.O.L.

The guard at the gate stopped him, and demanded to see the trooper’s pass.

The black man pulled out a razor.

“Brudder,” he warned, “mah mudder’s dead and am in Heaben. Mah faddah’s dead and am in Hell, but mah gal am alive and in Los Angeles. And ah’s gwine to see one of dem three tonight.”

* * * * *

Following is a familiar conversation heard within a modern apartment building where so many home-made hooch parties are held:

Voice from without: “Cut out that noise or I’ll have you put out of this flat.”

Voice from within: “We should worry—we’ve been put out of better flats than this.”

_Our Rural Mail Box_

=Dear Bill=—You may be witty, but the guy who wrote “Snowbound” was Whittier.

* * * * *

=Marjie=—You naughty girl!

* * * * *

=Jo-Jo=—You can call it Spanish onions or Spanish fly or any other old thing you want, old dear.

* * * * *

=Ted Mann=—If your sweetheart likes music, even though your voice is poor, you can still sing to her with much feeling.

* * * * *

=Lonesome Jack=—You ought to be able to get the inspiration you want on the beach at Miami or at Ocean Park and Redondo.

* * * * *

=Parliamentarian=—The rules state that you put your hand up first and then ask the question.

* * * * *

=Shakespeareson=—Don’t get hot under the collar. You ask us what we did with your poem entitled “An Ode to Oblivion.” Our reply is: It reached its destination.

* * * * *

Revamping the Vamps

Exit the perfect 36!

Enter the perfect 34.

Dame Fashion is responsible.

Dressmakers have filled the New York papers’ want ad columns with calls for services of the 34 mannequins.

And still further they specify that she must be within the precincts of the misses’ “16.”

This is because grandmothers want to wear granddaughters’ clothes.

Specifications for the mannequins call for:

Symmetry.

Slenderness.

Small hips.

Slender biceps.

Trim ankles.

“Woman herself is responsible for the change,” says Miss Marion Rothschild, associate editor of “Women’s Wear.”

“For nearly three years the feminine population has been struggling to get into smaller and smaller clothing.

“Naturally they get what pleases them.”

* * * * *

The Old Maid’s Lament

Love without the man, is like hell without heaven; I know for I’ve been there. If you don’t believe me, try it.

* * * * *

Blood vs. Hootch

A Scotchman had been presented with a pint flask of rare old Scotch whiskey. He was walking briskly along the road toward home, when along came a Ford which he did not sidestep quite in time. It threw him down and hurt his leg quite badly. He got up and limped down the road. Suddenly he noticed that something warm and wet was trickling down his leg.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, “I hope that’s blood!”

* * * * *

A Stew’s Lament

“George, I don’t believe you did put the cat out.”

“Well, if you think I’d tell a lie about a little thing like that, go and put her out yourself.”

* * * * *

Sympathy

The harassed and weary-looking man, the personification of genteel poverty, paused before the windows which had been hired by the Humane Society.

In the center of the window was the picture of a large furry animal, with a woe-begone expression on its face.

Underneath was the placard: “I was skinned to provide a woman with fashionable furs.”

For a moment the tired expression faded from the man’s face.

“I know just how you feel, poor old chap!” he muttered. “So was I.”

* * * * *

Excuse Me

A little boy in his nightdress was on his knees, saying his prayers, and his little sister could not resist the temptation to tickle his feet.

He stood it as long as he could, and then said: “Please, God, excuse me while I knock the devil out of Nellie.”

* * * * *

Objection Sustained

A young lady has written the Navy Department asking that the styles in sailors’ uniforms be changed so that the girls will not be embarrassed.

“Every time I dance with a sailor, his loose, flappy trousers tickle my ankles and make me think my petticoat has fallen,” she complains.

* * * * *

There Are Others

Here’s to those who’d love us If we only cared, Here’s to those we’d love If we only dared.

* * * * *

You know the difference between a crab and a fish. Be a live fish, not a crab, because A live fish swims upstream and— A crab goes backward.

* * * * *

Only six months to wait for the second October Whiz Bang annual.

* * * * *

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* * * * *

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* * * * *

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