"It ain't the same show, you goof!" I says. "They change the bill every day."
"They ain't goin' to change this eight-dollar bill o' mine," he says.
"You're a fine stiff!" I says.
"Call me anything you want to," says Hatch, "as long as you don't go over eight bucks' worth."
"Jim don't enjoy op'ra," says Mrs. Hatch.
"He don't enjoy nothin' that's more than a nickel," I says. "But as long as he's goin' to welsh on us I hope he lavishes the eight-spot where it'll do him some good."
"I'll do what I want to with it," says Hatch.
"Sure you will!" I says. "You'll bury it. But what you should ought to do is buy two suits o' clo'es."
So I went out in the kitchen and split a pint one way.
But don't think for a minute that I and the Missus ain't goin' to hear no more op'ra just because of a cheap stiff like him welshin'. I don't have to win in no rummy game before I spend.