Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 4, 1925 — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

WORLD-BEATERS. busy just now?” He looks at me out of a set of shepherd dog eyes, coughs, chokes, then reaches for another cracker. ‘ Yeah,’’ he says, and stops talking. “What are you doing?” I goes on. “ My eyesight is kinda bad.” “¢ Sittin? down,” he mumbles. you must be blind.” ‘Fine! You’re just the man I want.” “ For what—work ?”’ ‘““ Far from it!” I replies, sitting beside him. ‘ You are about to be well paid for doing less than you’re doing. Now you've got to sit down. Work for us and you can lay down. How about it?” ‘“‘ Mister,’ he drawls,” I been looking for a job like that all my life. Ah—how much do you pay?” ‘“T’ll introduce you to Professor Dr. Sweeney, the world’s greatest hypnotist. He'll talk about what you get—and what you don’t get.” “All right. What did yer say I hadda do, hey?” he mumbles as we walk toward the show. “Nothing!” I says, “simply nothing. Only you got to know how to do it.” ‘““ Haw!” he cackles. ‘‘ They ain't no- buddy in this town that can do nothin’ more ways than / can. If they is, he must be out in the cemetery. Ah—what kinda nothin’ didja say I hadda do?” “All you got to do is stand still, and let Professor Sweeney hypnotize you. Then you are supposed to be fast asleep, and are buried in the ground for a week. The folks will pay real money to see vou, and that’s where we all get some nice coin. Pretty soft, huh?” ‘““T may be dead, but they ain’t nobuddy gonna bury me whilst I’m still kickin?!” After which, he starts to leave me flat. I grab him by the arm, and yank him back. “You don’t get the idea,’’ I soothes. “You ain’t really hypnotized, and you don’t have to stay in the box, down in the ground for a week. You just stay there for a few hours every day, while the people are looking at you. When they blow out, vou can come up and hang around the dressing tent until the next show. Of course you can’t walk around the village, because that would give the stunt away.” ** Guess $43 * So I don’t have to stay in the ground all the time, hey?” “No; just for a little while each day, while the suckers are looking down at you.” ‘Do I eat?” he wants to know. “You do.” “What do I eat?” demands the dizzy boob. “Anything!” I savs, getting impatient. “Kin I have plenty of pork chops and onions?”’ ‘* Sure; vou can also have Grant’s Tomb, and the Woolworth Building for dessert. Now come on; we got to get the show opened.”’ “Think I'll take a chance,” he says. “You ain’t taking any chance, kid. We’re doing all that sort of thing. All you take is some nice maney—if business is good.” ‘Do I get paid now?” is a horrible pest, what? ‘“That’s up to Professor Dr. Sweeney. We'll see him right away.” When we reached the show Joe was con- cluding his performance with the brush and some stuff that passes for paint. ‘* Professor,’ I opens up, “I want vou to meet one of Duckout’s most intellectual citizens, Mr. Clem Clinker. Mr. Clinker, Shake hands with Professor Dr. Joseph Sweeney.” “Glad to know you, kid,” pipes Joe, of- fering a stained hand. ‘‘ Er—I’m doing a little painting. My European artist is now ill, so I hadda do some dirty work myself. A little out of my line, but a relief from the —er—mental strain of working in the in- terests of science and—ah—humanity. Now, the space vou see in this here sign is reserved for your name, being the one honored to act as my subject. Clem Clink- er, is it? Well, well, well—that’s a verv charming mess for a name. Watch me smear it on the canvas.” Joe proceeds to insert the name of MIr. Clinker, and when the sign was completed, it read as follows: ATTENTION! Kindly take notice that Mr. Clem Clinker, an honored citizen of Duckout, has given his consent to Professor Dr. Joseph Sweeney. M. D., and Hypnotist, to be placed in a rigid Gosh, a boob Conn GIOok