LizzieMaine
Bartender
- Messages
- 34,016
- Location
- Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
("Sinatreh's still a 4-F," sneers Sally. "Whatta punk." "Aww," injects Bink Scanlan, pausing in her labors to insert a fresh stick of Black Jack. "I t'ink 'e's whatchacawl dreamy." "Nightmaeh, moeh like," scoffs Sally. "He ain' nut'n like my Joe, at's f'sueh." "I neveh metcha husban'," shrugs Bink. "Whas'see like?" "He's like," frowns Sally, pointing to the small banner hanging behind the counter displaying two blue stars, "t'at." "Oh," acknowledges Bink. "Yeh," nods Sally, her voice hard. "An' doncha f'get it. Anyways," she continues, making an active effort to shift her mood, "I been meanin' t'ask ya sump'n. You like woikin'eeh? You like woikin' f'my Ma?" "Eh," ehs Bink. "It's a jawb." "Well look," wheedles Sally. "You eveh c'nsideh t'ez BETTEH jawbs out'teh?" "Y'mean like you gawt?" puzzles Bink. "I do'wanna woik in no fac'try, it ain' a whatcha cawl a good env'riament f'ra young gal like me. Y'know?" "I don' mean woik inna factry," declares Sally. "I mean, didjeh eveh consideh -- well, wait'n tables? In one'a t'em swell rest'runts downtown? T'ezzis place awn Fulton Street t'eh, w'eh awla big shawts go t'eat, an' I hoid t'ey was lookin' f'waitresses." "Y'don' say," replies Bink, rotating her gum. "I neveh done no woik like t'at." "Piece a'cake," declares Sally. "I done it myself oncet." "Oh, I hoidja Ma an' ol' Fatty tawkin'about t'at," snickers Bink. "A whole plate'a beans onnat guy!" "NEVEH MINE'AT!!" exhales Sally. "Now, heeh's whatcha need t'do....")
(There is no job too challenging for a skilled T-5.)
(Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...)
("I DON'T however, understand what you mean when you keep talking about 'point spreads.'")
("Um, if it's about the moonlighting, sir," stammers Mr. Parrott, "it's like I told you before..." "I have not summoned to discuss that trifling breach of discipline," declares Mr. Rickey with a sweep of his cigar. "We will address that at the proper time. No, my boy, I have summoned you today to discuss a matter of utmost importance, my boy, a matter which may concern your personal safety and well-being." "Oh," ohs Mr. Parrott. "If it's about those friends of Leo's who were in here yesterday..." "No, no," dismisses Mr. Rickey. "Mr. Durocher's associates figure not into this matter at all. I speak to you to a threat even more grave. It has come to my attention that a letter was sent to you at this office by a certain woman, a very dangerous woman, a Mrs. Sally Petrauskas of 1762 63rd Street. Do you know of whom I am speaking?" "I think MacPhail mentioned her to me once," shrugs Mr. Parrott. "She was very upset when he traded away Coscarart. And, speaking of which, I still say we could..." "We shall not discuss petty personnel matters," insists Mr. Rickey, "when your very -- sanity -- may be at stake. You must beware, my boy, you must beware. Jane Ann fortunately intercepted this communication before it could reach your desk, but there may be other attempts to contact you, for what purpose I cannot say. Beware, my boy. If you sight at any time a dark-haired woman with spectacles whose mouth is -- ah -- perpetually open, you must advise me at once, and I shall summon the authorites." "Oh," ohs Mr. Parrott. "It's that serious?" "It is," nods Mr. Rickey. "She has campaigned steadily against me for nearly two years. She found me at church. She found me at home. I knew no peace. You note, my boy, that at no time do I seat myself with my back facing a door." "Oh," swallows Mr. Parrott. "She usually travels," continues Mr. Rickey, "in the company of a large red-headed woman. Together they create a terrifying force for chaos and disorder." "Worse than Hilda?" injects Mr. Parrott. "Mrs. Chester," sighs Mr. Rickey, "is a gentle kindergarten teacher by comparison," "Oh," ohs Mr. Parrott. "Oh, indeed," sighs Mr. Rickey.
(Don't you DARE blow up that poor goose!)
(Actually what he said was "gggaarrrhppphhh hack wheeeeze.")
(Sometimes they don't even need a casting couch.)
(Gee, it's good to have supportive friends.)
(Cue the "wacky hillbilly fiddle music.")
