This was how it happened that Herman came panting into the offices of Dr. Kukuheimer, the noted dirt digger who had got rich off the complex-boom. Herman’s tongue was hanging out like a slice of watermelon.
The dizzy medicine man took one look at this bottle of sour cream and patted the marcel in his Van Dyke.
“I will first take the history of your case,” he warned. “Tell me your name, business and favorite dreams.”
Herman stuck out his tissue paper chest and announced who and what he was, from one point of view.
“I am,” spoke our hero, “Herman Pupick, censor and reformer. I am employed by the United States government to fight sin wherever I see it. My specialty is suppressing lewd and obscene books.”
“Can you read?” inquired Dr. Kukuheimer quickly.
“Well,” said our hero proudly, “I know all the dirty words.”
“Now tell me,” the eagle-brained scientist pursued, “what your symptoms are?”
“I can’t figure it out,” Herman answered. “I get hot and cold sweats, ringing in the ear and at night I keep imagining things.”
“What sort of things?” inquired the doctor.