This Sunday are devoted to stay-home amusement by Hon. Cluck, who are a bald-haired gentleman of medium oldness. He spend this vacation by setting in slippers and enjoying quarrels he is too busy to attend to other days. When these is finished, he reads comical supplements until fatigued by humor, when he spreads Hon. Happy Hooligan page over his bald hair and commences to snore. This program are enjoyed to any extent while Hon. Mrs. telephone her Mother to explain how sad her marriage was.
“Jas!” holla Hon. Mrs. to Hon. Mr., last Sunday while he was leaping from one nap to another, “Why should you save your snores for your Wife?”
“You comfort me so I cannot keep wakeful,” he smooth back.
“Do you snore while being comforted by a—stenographer?” she gollup so quickly.
He said nothing very well.
“Oh!!” This from her. “If I could dishcover some way for to keep you from going to sleep every time you sat in that chair, I should be submerged by much gratitude.”
I was standing in next room near keyhole trying not to listen when I axidentally hear her make this dialogue.
Zizz!! Intellectual flash arrive to brain: I should make one Dishcovery what would give Hon. Cluck happy-home wakefulness when setting in that chair. Banzai! I stogger backwards with Edison feeling of thumbs.
Next a.m. while Hon. Mrs. were absentee at Dept Store squandering money on hair-pins, I approach Hon. Chair where husband love to dream. With artistic hammer & nails, I attach Hon. Chair to rope in next room which were pulled by neat derangement of pulleys. He were a Mawruss Chair, full of pads and very fat, and I was proud to see the expression of calm comfort what he wear while setting there awaiting happy home-come of Hon. Mr. Cluck.
When Hon. Mrs. Cluck arrive back for dinner that evening, food were absent, for reason because I had been too busy with importance to think up such triful.