“It must require great strength to kill so many people in an afternoon,” she say-it with sweet sips.
“With a ax I could do much better,” are reply I make.
This week my chumb, Sydney Katsu, Jr., who went to Harvard for study mollycuddling, come back here enjoying great damages. I could see by the expression of his legs how much they was broke; also bandaged elbows indicate smashy condition & his brain was held together with a towel. Most of his teeth he was carrying in his pocket.
“O Sydney!” I report, “who done you all them delicious injuries you got?”
“Them Mollycuddles done it, thank you!” he dib, pointing to draped eye which was minus.
“‘All of them persons is related to each other in some way and another—some by proxy, some by regret’”
“What must a person do to become a Mollycuddle?” are next review I make.
“He must first go to Harvard & play on scrubbed Freshman team,” explan Sydney. “Some mollycuddlish person will say ‘6—11—44’ and toss him a entire feetball. Soonly all Harvard are on top of him to include the Library Building & Germanic Museum. Groans from this youth who are trying to play that game. Finally brickage are removed from him and he are permitted to be carried away. If he lives he are a Mollycuddle.”