Judge — December 26, 1925 — page 27: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

rheumatically out in their placarded exhibition of “youth, pulchritude and winsome charm;” but Henry Flubb had eyes for nothing but a Flubb Kris Kringle pot in the lap of a “tough-looking citizen next to him. With a cry of rage, Flubb seized it and smashed it to the concrete floor. Fifteen minutes later, in Kennedy’s Cut Rate Drug and Radio Store, next to the theater, an ambulance surgeon was treating Henry Flubb for contusions, lacerations, suspected concussions, abrasions and two black eyes. * * kK OK “Good morning, Mr. Flubb,” cheerfully piped Tobias, entering his employer's office the following morn- ing. “Hope we'll have a white Christmas this year, don’t you?” Flubb turned around with the furious gaze of a traffic cop approach- ing a citizen who had parked eight seconds toolong. “White Christmas be hanged, Tobias!” he roared. “I’ve got two black eyes now and it looks like a pretty black Christmas for me, you and the company. The fact is, my youthful genius and designer of our fast-selling, world-beating, un- precedented Christmas special, that we're stuck with 3,000 dozen ador- able, cunning, Kris Kringle pots, which, at'a cost of ninety cents a dozen to us, is a loss of $2,700. Also my flower pot impresario, my latter- day Michael Angelo, you’ve lost for us the best account on our books— Greenstem’s Greater Department Stores, the biggest chain of depart- ment stores in the country and the only one with a flower and flower pot Litile Smiths, whose wife expects a fur coat for Christmas, deems it wise to have police protection when he gives her a box of hankies. Die emer The kid who never believed in Santa Claus. department in each store. These pots were peddled to every other flower pot buyer in the country and they just laughed at me. Greenstem was our last chance, and just because we disposed of 1,000 dozen through the Burlesque Show Candy Sales Company at a loss, my boy, of fifty cents a dozen to us, Greenstem can- celed his order last night at a per- formance of—er—er.”” He pounded his desk and scowled. “Never mind. What do you want?” Tobias started meekly. “Mr. Flubb, we'd like to paint our little cottage at Hysteria-on-the-Lake next spring and Mrs. Tubb and I were thinking of trading in our car for a larger model, so her mother, brother, aunt and cousin can go out picnicking with us Sundays. So, with the first of the year approaching, Mr. Flubb, and—er—er—Christmas here soon, I thought maybe you might give me a little raise or a bonus or something—so that I could tell Mrs. Tubb to buy that almost-real racoon coat she’s been wanting for Christ- mas. You know, Mrs. Abernathy, next door, got one and Mrs. Tubb—” There was a dangerous glint in Henry Flubb’s eyes. He affected that icy calm which always presaged a verbal tornado. “Anything else, Tobias?” he asked, very quietly and ominously. “And as president of The Flubb (Continued on page 28) comicbooks.com