“Why you don’t quit without application to me?” she ask it while 2-stepping.
“I wish tell you my feelings before departure,” I reject while gliding my feet onwards and twining my chest in stroggle to follow her closely. “I shall not be a servant in such a fidgetty home. I shock! What is becaming of America? Instead of sipping tea, as formerly, they dance it. Instead of enjoying sociability with brain they do it with feet. They act midnight at five o’clock. Preachers come to preach and stay to prance. Therefore, I remove myself to some other jobs.”
“Jeems!” Hon. Mrs. holla to Hon. Buttler, yet still continue fantango whirling, “here are Japanese schoolboy who should be discharged to music. Tango him down back steps.”
Nextly I knew I were embraced by that tense Englishman without any H in his voice. While music burst up into runaway tune, Hon. Buttler show me tango so rapidly I did not know my ears from my knuckles. O such musical scuttle-step, back-walk, elbow-jounce, and twist-vine movement towards outside side of house! And there I suddenly arrived followed by orchestra-sound including kick.
So I 1-step away with bursted gracefulness peculiar to lame duck.
Hoping you are the same,
Yours truly,
Hashimura Togo.
XV
Are Turkey-Waltzing a Dance or a Convulsion?
To Editor N. Y. Newsprint, who must have many subscribers because he know that where there is Life there is Blood and where there is Blood there is Circulation (free joke)
Dear Mr.:—The Japanese Patriotic and Educational Suicide Club, of which I are correspondent Secretary last night give a waltzing cotillion and lemonade (25c for extra ladies who drunk it) at Rising Sun Banzai Association Hall. Considerable fashion of yellow complexion was there with Sadikichi’s Brass Orchestra to play it whenever we danced it. Excitements.