Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 146: what you’re looking at

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

284 “Does that make me a Odd Fel- low?” parries Mr. Simpkins. “ In the meantime, Doc, I’ll put you jerry to the real McCoy between Bandy, Salty, and why the two gentlemen prefer a blonde.” Before unwrapping the plot, Side- Trap spears a stogy out of my vest pocket, strikes a match down my spinal column, then squats comfortable on the_bally-stand. “What,” he begins, “dyer know about love?” “What,” I counters, “ does anybody know about love?” “Love,” goes on Side-Trap, “is the stuff that dreams are made of.” “You blurbing about nightmares?” “As to the case of Messrs. Bandy and Salty, both have collapsed over the charms of Bess, which means the fun is about to begin.” ‘“D’yer suppose that Bess is wise to the rivalry?’ I wish to know. “D’yer suppose that Tunney knew Dempsey was in the ring during the seventh round?” hoots Simpkins. “Love, big boy, is a ladies’ dish, and don’t kid yourselves about that! If Bess ain’t aware that Bandy and Salty are heels over head in love with her, then she is waiting for some one to tell her she’s a blonde. A guy thinks he has selected the gal he wishes to marry, but, believe me, Cupid, the gal has selected him first.”’ “Which means Bess is prob’ly play- ing one clown against the other, hey?” “That’s quite the exactly,’ agrees Side-Trap. “‘ Bandy and Salty are heading into some frosty weather. I bet it busts up their friendship lke bricks through a paper hoop. Love and war are twins.” To lower a tall story, Side-Trap’s analysis proved to be as correct as frost ~ on a Eskimo’s whiskers! IIT, Tue first smash-up between Bandy and Salty took place at our next stand ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, —in round numbers, Snifterville. J found Salty sitting alone in the lobby of the Hotel Escope, with Beans perched upon his shoulder, and he looked a shade madder than a sparrow biting into a lead worm. Presently Bandy swoops down the stairs, spots Salty, and walks up briskly. ‘ Hey, pardner!” he snaps. “ What’s yore idea in wearing muh best socks?” “Whither away!” snorts Salty. “ Half of them socks is mine, and you can lay to that! Didn’t I pay for my share?” “Yeah,” admits Bandy, “but yore wearing both of ’em!”’ “Ain't I got two legs? Take a dive in Davy Jones for yourself!” “T'll take a dive at yore beak!’ blus- ters Bandy. “Shut up,” steams Salty, “or I'll stand you on your beam ends!” “One at a time, boys; one at a time!’ squarks Beans. “From now on you and me are quits!’ goes on Bandy. “ We hire dif- ferent rooms to park in, and I shore mean it!” “Quit, by thunder, quit!’ snorts Salty, pounding the arms of his chair. “And you can lay—’ “ Nev-ah out and nev-ah ovah!” re- marks Beans. Possible rioting was prevented by the sudden appearance of Queen Bess. Dressed a bit better than a whole bevy of movie queens, she trips into the lobby escorted by a gil who could easily pass as the King of Sheiks. Besides having It, he also possessed pearl-gray spats, cane, movie-hero kelly, and the latest in House-of-Hokumheimer suits. Passing up both Salty and: Bandy like they had triple diphtheria, she sails up to me, with a goaling smile. “Doc,” she says, “I want you to meet Joe Striker. Joe, this is Mr. Mc- Keezick, who attempts to manage our show.” ‘ Greetings,” I says. “‘ How’s things breaking ?” | (E(0) > comicboo!