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Read Ebook: Jiglets: A series of sidesplitting gyrations reeled off— by Jones Walter
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Ebook has 893 lines and 18599 words, and 18 pages
We located a restaurant presently, and sat waiting at a table for an hour and a half.
Finally, Percy said to the fellow behind the desk:
"Are you the proprietor of this hash house?"
"Yes," says he.
"Well, then I want to know if you sent your waiter away, when you saw us coming, so you could charge us for a night's lodging."
Just then the waiter came in.
"Say," says I, "do you know we have been waiting here for an hour and a half?"
"That's nothing," says he, "I've been waiting here for ten years."
He placed a carafe of water on the table.
"Look here," says Percy, "I never drink water unless it's absolutely pure and healthy. Is this all right?"
"Sure," says the waiter.
Percy took a glassful, and most of it was pollywogs.
"Look here," says he, "I thought you said this water was healthy. Look at those bugs."
"That only proves what I said," says the waiter. "If it wasn't healthy the bugs couldn't live in it."
Just then Percy's eye caught a sign that read:
"All the pancakes you can eat for ten cents."
"I'm going to have some pancakes," says he. "What's yours?"
Percy kept eating pancakes.
When he had eaten twenty plates the boss of the joint began to get interested.
Percy was certainly getting the biggest ten cents' worth I ever saw, when he stepped over and says:
"Don't you think you have had enough?"
"Just one more plate and then--" says Percy.
"Then what?" says the boss.
"Then you can tell the cook to make them a little bit thicker," says Percy.
I tried to chew my chicken, but couldn't get it down. I managed to catch the waiter on his fifteenth lap between the kitchen and Percy's plate, and says:
"Waiter, this chicken is awfully tough."
"Have some pancakes, then," says Percy. "They're good and come cheap."
"Well," says the waiter, "that chicken always was a Jonah. When we tried to kill it, the darned thing flew to the top of the house and we had to shoot it."
Percy finally got enough pancakes and paid his ten cents like a man.
We traveled along the road that leads from the hash house, and met a farmer with a gun.
"Say," says I, "have you seen anything worth shooting around here?"
"Not until you came," says he.
I don't blame him though.
Talking of shooting, I don't think I ever told you of the time I went shooting with Teddy.
Teddy is a great shot, but he can't compare with me. I'm going to sing you a song about it, entitled:
"Snap Shot, Half Shot, All Shot; or, It Costs Money To Get Loaded."
On the farms there's consternation, And there's wide-spread agitation, For the hunting season's opened up again. In the paths and in the by-ways, In the woods and in the highways, There are packs of dogs and scores of shooting men.
Now and then a pig is squealing, Or a hen or rooster keeling Over suddenly in some sequestered spot. Upon a close examination, You may glean the information, That by some lobster of a gunner it was shot.
Now and then a cow is snorting, And around a field cavorting, All because a load of shot has come its way. Now and then a horse is rearing, And in greatest pain appearing, For it stopped another charge that went astray.
'Tis no wonder that the granger Growls each time he sees a stranger, Prowling through the woods and fooling with a gun; For the shooting is alarming, To the man who does the farming, And he won't rest easy till the season's done.
That's a very fine song, I'll admit. Percy is just dead in love with it. He makes me sing it about ten times a day.
He says he can sympathize with the horses and cows, for he has "stopped many a charge that went astray" and knows how it feels.
We left the farmer with the gun, and Percy began to get woefully dry.
"Great Scott," says he, "I'd give almost anything for a drink of whiskey."
He spied an old gent with a kind face, tottering along the road.
"Just wait a minute," says Percy, "I'll see if that old gent carries a pocket flask."
So he went over and says:
"Kind sir, can you give a poor man who has heart trouble a drop of whiskey?"
"You should not drink that stuff," says the old man, "why do you do it?"
"Because I'm thirsty," says Percy.
"Then why don't you drink milk?" says he. "Milk, you know, makes blood."
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