Now all is quiet at Helios; no more do they dance in the pale moonlight; no more is the scorpion hurled forth to the bungalows, no more do the goats bleat and disturb he who would sleep; now the sweeties have returned to their previous love, and all is well.
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The other day the little town of Manhattan on the ocean near Los Angeles passed an ordinance setting a penalty for swimming without the sometimes necessary bathing suit, but they claim it was not without cause, for it got so bad that certain persons after swimming were going uptown for lunch without taking the necessary time to cover their earthly charms.
One night a party was held on the sands and every one disrobed and all were enjoying the cooling air of the evening when a stranger was seen in the offing. Everyone grabbed clothes and ran, intending to use another part of the beach to refresh themselves. One dearie was stranded in the dark, and as the rest of the party had her clothes, was forced to wander about until morning, which was only a few hours away. After daylight she set out to find some clothes.
Later the town heads talked it over and decided that a person ought to wear some clothing, if only to protect them from the chill night air, so now if you go to Manhattan to swim, take something along to wear, even if it is only an old shirt, for, quote they, if Mack Sennet can get away with it, “we” can.
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“The Four Cow Boys of the Poker Chips”
From “The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse”
By James Starr.