Judge — June 14, 1930 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

Why I’m Washed Up with the Bench By S. J. Perelman Wiis 1 announced last Tuesday evening at the annual meeting of the New York State Bar Association that I was through forever with prac- tising law, I never dreamed it would he the signal for a general panic. It was as if I had thrown a bombshell into the serried ranks of the judici Cries of “But this is impossible, Pe clman,” mingled with startled com- ment like “Is lust kindling in his heart?” and “He is as whimsical as a JUDGE butterfly, a creature of moods and mo- ments!” The Simile Committee went into conference at once and drew up the following complimentary remarks regarding me: As sensitive as a barometer. As light as a snowflake. ere as a ti black as ebony as an oyster. As dull a Like wax to receive impressions. Like steel to retain impressions. As distant as a star. It clings like a burr. YEH,LET’S BURY THE HATCHET —-— IN YOUR NECK!SNEERED THE SHOMMUS You needn’t come near me with your peek-a-boo waists and your hobble-skirts, Ruby. Finst Voice—There, h that’s great! First Vor onp Voice: too. to be spleen. I guess I know a fast woman when I see one. » do you like that? Er—it’s nice on the other side, too. S All right, wrap it up and put in some half-tone needles, You can follow the isthmus as far as Colon, but the rest remains ‘onp Voice—Um-m-m, and by—it’ was a scene of the wild- est consternation, shot through and through with a horrified dismay re calling the snowstorm of ’88 or the wheat pit on Black Friday. So great was the pandemonial that I had no chance to explain my reasons; and lest 1 should be followed to my beehives in Surrey by hundreds of letters de- manding the facts, I want to set down the truth once and for all. I was quietly sitting in my office Friday last week reading the ther- mometer with Punctilio, my junior partner, when Miss Pardee announced a client. I dismissed Punctilio, hid the bottle in a drawer, and slipped into my consulting robes. A mysteri ous veiled lady entered and sat down on my lap. T pulled up a chair, lit cigar and laid it on the chair and turned to my client. “Mr. Perelman,” she said directly. “I want to sue them.” “Certainly, madam,” I with an old-world bow, you wish to sue?” “Them,” she repeated, “I want to sue them “Yes, yes, but who are ‘them’?” “Just” them,” said vaguely. “Can't I sue them? “Pardon me, who——?" “They can't get away with beasts!" she shouted suddenly. matter what I do, no matter how I lock the door and stuff up the chinks —even when I pull down the shades and crawl under the carpet—they steal in every afternoon at four o'clock and sit on my neck!" I hastily sent for Miss Pardee and between us we managed to persuade the lady into an elevator and out into the street. My trembling had hardly subsided when in came Miss Pardee again. responded “Whom do she adam,” I faltered it, the “No “A gent to see you, dear.” The gent had watery blue eyes and a cot- ton umbrella which he held open over his head. He didn’t bother to sit down. “Mr. “I want against D me slee} “Who's Dr. Marzipa finger-tips. a doctor up in Matteawar Perelman,” he said timidly, to get out an injunction Marzipan. He won't let ?" I frowned it—er—a long visit?” “No, only two years,” replied the gentleman. “But every night this Dr. Marzipan takes six fellas and buries them up to their necks in sand down (Continued on page 31) comicbooks.com