Judge — November 27, 1926 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

The Three Bears I rirst heard this one on a smoker when I was on the road for Glatz & Glimmer, Modish Modes for Modish Misses, so I gave it a good bath and had its hair combed and here it is all ready for my little rascals. Well, children, it seems there was once a quarter of a dozen of bears living in their love nest in a woods. First there was the Big Over-Sized Fountain Pen—I mean, Bear; then there was the Middle- Sized Bear; and last there was the Small Wee Bear, which was about as small and wee as a freight train. These three beauties had their pic- tures in every postoffice in the country; it seems they had held up a Federal mail train, so they was resting in the country for a while. Now the important. thing about these bears was that they was por- ridge fiends. They was daffy about porridge: every other night they would go off on a porridge jag and come home simply plastered with the oatmeal fumes. Once in a while they would have a nice juicy fried boy or girl for breakfast, but for the most part they was vegetarians. Now one day the three went out for a walk, or to shoot pool, or to gather empty kerosene cans, or something useless. And while they was out, along came a nervy little gadget named Ruthie, only they called her Silver-Hair because the two names sounded so much alike. This Silver-Hair was a hellion pure and simple. She had more brass than a half a dozen gold watches put together. She was the kind who comes down on a Wednesday for a week-end and leaves the following Tuesday with all the silver nut- picks. Well, Ruthie. tried the win- dows and found them locked. Then she tried to slide down the coal- chute but all she got was an eyeful of cinders for her pains. Finally she picked the lock of the kitchen door with a hairpin and walked in. Now the bears had made some porridge for a big party they was going to throw that night and there it was cooling in three plates. Ruthie was feeling slightly peaked Ruthie punishes the porridge. by this time, so she tried the Big Bear's plate and nearly burned the roof of her mouth off. Then she tried the Middle Bear's plate and this was too cold. But the Small Wee Bear's porridge was perfect and she ate the plate too so she wouldn't miss anything. Then she tried sitting in the armchairs in the living-room, but none of them felt right except the Small Wee Bear's. and when she sat down in this, the seat fell through. This drew a big laugh from Ruthie. , A OWS MEET This week's rib cracker comes in by special radiogram from Susie Smith, of Yonkers, and we nearly busted our sides, what with laughing. It seems O’Brien said to Mulcahy, “What are you taking for your rheumatism?” and Smichoff flashed back, “I’m taking pains!” Casey's never been the same since, I vow. WHEW JOLLY FELL Then she went upstairs. figuring she would take a little snooze before she went her way. She had a date to rob a bank at three o'clock, but she thought she might have time for a few snores before then. So here again she had trouble, be- cause all the beds except the Small Wee Bear's was too hard or too soft She curled up in the latter’s crib and fell asleep with her mouth wide open She was a mouth breather. Well, by this time the bright chil dren among you can see that the Small Wee Bear is the sucker in this fable. While little Pneumonia was laying asleep up there on the second story, the three bears walked in As soon as they saw the door open they put two and two together. “Some dirty thief has been fooling around here,” they said, and they began to sharpen their nails on the woodwork. Then they saw the por ridge and you should have heard the Small Wee Bear. “Oh, boy, just wait till I lay my hands on the low-life that did this,” he said, and he started in doing setting-up exercises. The Middle Bear, which had worked in Scot- land Yard for a time, followed Ruthie’s tracks up the stairs and there the three of them saw their little guest snoring like a horse in the Small Wee Bear's bed. Just as they were deciding whether she would make a better stew or goulash, she snapped out of the coma and saw them standing there. “Is there a window open, boys?” she asks them. “Yeah,” says the Middle Bear “over there. Why?" “Because [ hate to sleep without a window open!” she retorts, and with that she had pulled a Fair banks and flung herself out the win dow on to her horse’s back and was off around the corner. The three bears looked at each other, and finally the Small Wee Bear begins to roll up his sleeves. “What's the idea, Harry the biggest bear. says “Did I hear somebody crack something about a fall guy?” says the Small Wee Bear. Perelman comicbooks.com