XVI AN ADVENTURE IN BANTING

To Editor Ladies’ Page which are never too fat to seem agreeable.

Hon Mr: Last job I were divorced from were home of Hon. Mrs Violet J. Bobb who resides in the suburbs of Illinois. This Hon. Bobb lady seem very wholsale about her beauty which contain 207 lbs complete poise.

One day she approach to me & report,

“Togo,” she say so, “I am going to have a reduction of myself.”

“Will you be a great bargain?” I ask to know.

“Ah surely yes!” she deploy. “I intend to be marked down from 207 lbs to 180 in one month.”

I show my amazement by surprise.

“What will Hon. Mr Bobb say,” I rebuke, “when he return to dinner each p. m. and find his Love growing less and less? Would you shrink thusly from the hand that feeds you?”

“If that hand did not feed me so much, perhapsly I would be less mountainous,” she gollup.

Yet she were determined. With immediate quickness she send to Hon. Dr Physician and get Aunty Fat cure. Following was recipe for it:

1st—Make things disagreeable for self and others.

2st—Dress in rubber shirt-waist & exercise until entirely unhappy. Keep on doing so.

3st—Avoid sleep by keeping awake.

4st—Avoid foods in any form. Beef tea & hard tack may be used as a substitute. Add Gen. Discomfort.

5st—Keep away from pleasant thoughts, as these are very fatty.

6st—Shun all proteids, caryatids and asteroids.

Mr Editor, did you ever try to cook for a lady what requires nothing to eat but hard tack & beef tea? Such work might be easy, but it ain’t. Supplying her with meals were like feeding canned vacuum to camels—light work, but deliciously scientific.

Hon. Mr Bobb, who was thin and red headed like a match, could eat a banquet multiplied by three each day and appear just as wirey as before. Foods make him thinner, so he require it continuously. Therefore, I must cook very lopsided meals for them Bobbs to eat it. For dinner-eat Hon. Bobbs absorb veal stew containing potatus, fricaseed gravy, hot buns & beans of great wealth. But Hon. Mrs Bobbs give me strick orders to serve her only bowl of soupless broth with plate of very hard tack.

“I appreciate bravery of soldiers,” she say, eating with gnaws.

“Why should it?” reply her husband.

“Because,” she wep, “after eating hard tack for 1 week I should be willing to die for Country or anything else.”

For dessert Hon. Mr had a minced pie while Hon. Mrs had a hysteric. When Hon. Mr seen this noise he run to telephone and report.

“Oh Dr, Dr!” he holla, “Hon. Mrs have got one hysteric!”

“So glad to hear!” rejoint Hon. Medicine with smiling voice. “Grief are a great reducer.”

Hon. Mrs took walking exercise every morning from 9 o’clock until she got back. In this promenade she resemble elephants marching in Siamese funeral—each footstep seemed to go in front of the other with sorry expression of great weight. When she return back she set down in parlour attempting to deceive herself into staying awake.

“Your lunching are prepared on table,” I pronounce with servant voice.

“Please do not call beef tea lunching!” she snib like a cross stork.

She set down and et hard tack with extreme desolation.

After lunching she go groanfully to upstairs side. Pretty soonly I hear plaster and other brick-a-brack falling amidst considerable earthquake, so I know Hon. Mrs was rolling her figure over the carpet.

After 2 complete weeks of this hygiene had went by, Hon. Bobbs come home one night with scales for weighing coal.

“Now we shall observe how much you have subtracted by efforts,” he negotiate cheerly.

“I am so wasted away I can scarcely jump,” she mone. She step to scales which throw up their arms with loudy clatter when she got on.

Hon. Bobbs hang considerable 100 lbs of iron to Hon. Scales before he could strike a balance. At lastly Mrs Madam was weighed.

“Dearie,” report Hon. Husband with voice, “You have not suffered all for vain. You have lost exactly ½ lb!”

She fainted all over him.

Mr. Editor, there are nothing more injurious to life than doing what is good for us. Folks seeking health are considerable insurance risk. Dutiful persons is nearly always cross, and dypsepia are the favourits pastime of folks what never do no harm to their interior stomachs.

Me & Hon. Bobbs got entirely worried about how Hon. Mrs was making behaviour. In losing 2 lbs she dropped her spirits 1 ton. So I make lecture to her on this subjeck one day.

“Why you live in midst of groceries & take nothing?” I ask out. “Sailors enjoys more bill of fare when shipwrecked on logs. When driven desperado by hunger thay can at leastly cook each other.”

“Not having to drink beef tea are sifficient to make them happy,” she croke with Ibsen voice.

All day she behave with air of rejected alimony. When her Husband encroach home by night time he notice this.

“Kitten,” he require, “how much pounds you lost to-day?”

Peeved silence by her.

“O dearie,” he deplore. “If you continue this bant some longer, home will never seem snug again. Since you started to reduce, you have become fatter and me thinner. In attempting to reduce your waist you merely make your mind narrow. The less you eat the more biting your replies becomes. O fill my home like once you used to do, or I shall blow off and become suddenly zero!”

Thus he say it with voice like a sad actor. But she merely set exercising her elbows cruely like a Svoboda.

Next morning while Hon. Mrs were off making lonesome walk for thinness, I was in kitchen thinking thoughtfully about Fat. Why should ladies abhor this delicious padding? I ask to know. Are not round circles more beautiful than straight strings? Are not pillows more lovely as snakes? Answer is, Yes!!!

Therefore, I must lead this Boss Lady away from her emaciated mania before her husband removed himself from her peeved disposition and happy home was shipwrecked around my kitchen.

So I lit gas stove, took out recipe book, flour, sugar, apples & other nourishments and with immediate quickness I began stewing things what smelled like a banquet.

At noon time Hon. Mrs Madam come to table and set down, as usual, with forceable-feeding expression.

I put Hon. Soup befront of her. She startle.

“What food is this which smell so disobediently fragrant?” she ask out.

“Tometoes soup six inches thick & full of fatty nourishment,” I rake off.

“I refuse to eat such!” she yellup—and before I could took it away she had assimilated it entirely with spoon.

Next dish were turkey hash escorted by fried potatus, cinnamoney rolls, jelly & baked bean.

“I shall scold you!” she commence, but could not do so because she was too busy forking that food with considerable smacks.

And so onward through complete programme of vegetables until she reach apple dumpling & 2 cups chocolate.

She sigh.

Pretty soonly I observe her in parlour-room laying on sofa, eating candy-box and reading Mrs Humpley Ward book for sentimental joys. Sleep arrived nextly, and I felt quite patriotic to think how peaceful she was for 2 complete hours.

At hour of 4:27 p. m. she came to kitchen with new expression of brightly smiling.

“Togo,” she report, “you have saved my life by your disobedience. How dare you?”

“A Samurai ain’t afraid of nothing, not even Fat,” I snuggest.

“You have went strickly against my orders,” she guggle. “It were a delicious meal. Yet I must punish you for your impertinence. How much wages I owe you?”

“$5,” I acknowledge.

“Here are $15,” she explode. “$5 for your disobedience & $10 for your talents. Henceforward you are fired.”

“I was never more affectionately discharged in all my experience,” I absolve while putting on hat & coat. “While I am vacant from this job would you please hire my Cousin Nogi, who is also intelligent?”

“If he are a good cook, send him around,” she greet while I depart feeling like my brain was on backwards.

Hoping you are the same
Yours truly
Hashimura Togo.