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The Adventures of Fatty Lewis by Arthur Killick


By Arthur Killick

Copyright, 1915, by A. F. Killick and W. P. Harvey


     "How did your wife enjoy that story telling how busy she was?" asked Hurrah Smith.

     "Oh, it made an awful hit with her," Fatty Lewis declared.  "She liked it so well that she's taken my name out of the pot, broken my plate and treats me like I was a boarder three weeks behind in my dues."

     " 'You got a lot of license going around telling stories about how busy I am,' she says.  'Nobody needs to waste any sympathy on me.  You're the one they should feel sorry for.  You're the little old queen bee, you are.  You're a fine provider.  I honestly believe you're smart enough almost to get a free iron watch fob at an implement dealers' convention.

     " 'You should squawk about the hard times a woman has around the house.  Why didn't you tell it all while you was at it? she declared.  'Tell 'em how hard it is for you to lie in bed while I get up and make the fires and get the breakfast.  Let 'em know that you won't get up until the morning paper arrives and then come down to breakfast and bury yourself in it, and if anybody asks you a question the best they get for an answer is a grunt or a sour look.

     " 'You who the night before were the life of the party.  Told a lot of funny stories and led the singing.  I wish your friends could see you at breakfast in your first class impersonation of the Sphinx.  You look as inviting as a no trespassing sign  It would actually be dangerous for anyone who didn't carry accident insurance to even speak to you.

     " 'Business worries,' she sniffed.  'You may have them, but if they've added pinochle and draw poker to business courses in the colleges it's news to me.  You needn't blame me if you don't draw the third ace.  I don't deal the cards.  Take your grouches out on the people you play with.

     " 'And speaking of the laundry,' she added, 'Why is it you always want to wear a shirt some place when it's in the wash?  None of the shirts that are ready ever suit you.  I don't wear  your shirts and get 'em soiled.  Yet you always act like it's my fault that the one shirt you want to wear ain't ready for use.


The Worm Turns
"A woman's a fine simp trying to save some money around the house while Mr. Goodfellow is bumming around thirst parlors buying drinks for bartenders."

     " 'Some of your friends ought to get a peep at you some night when you come home and supper isn't on the table and waiting for you,' she continued.  'Of course, if you're late or meet some friend and don't come home at all -- that's all right.  Supper can get cold and the rest of us eat it.  You're a business man, and of course business is liable to detain anybody.

     " 'A woman's a fine simp trying to be economical and save you some money around the house,' she declared, 'while old Mr. Goodfellow is hard at work sitting out watching a ball game and betting fifty cents that a runner don't see first -- or bumming around thirst parlors buying drinks for the bartender.  That's a smart trick, buying drinks for bartenders.   You might as well buy apples and throw 'em in an orchard.

     " 'And while we're on that subject,' she continued, 'don't take the trouble of slipping off your shoes and run the risk of catching cold walking around in your stocking feet thinking I can't hear you walking upstairs.  I can hear you three houses away from here.  You breathe like a wind-broken horse, with that asthmatic-wheeze.

     " 'And another thing I might add is that you didn't get away with that stunt last summer of coming home at daylight and getting out the lawn mower and start cutting the grass, trying to make me believe you got up early.  I knew you hadn't been in the house.  The air was too pure.  There wasn't a trace of alcohol in the room.

     " 'You should kid somebody about being busy,' she declared.  'You with your "Dearly where's my socks?" "Where's the clean handkerchiefs?" "Where did you put my shoes?" "I can't find my hat."  "And where's that?"  "And where's this?" And "I'm late; will you put the buttons in my shirt?"

     " 'Why, you could be in the middle of an acre of clean clothes and couldn't find one sock if somebody didn't lay it on a chair right under your hand.  I'd have at least two more hours a day if I just didn't have to pick up the things you leave scattered around from the kitchen to the bathroom, to say nothing of the time it takes to get you ready for work.

     " 'Of course,' she admitted, 'I've got to make allowances for the amount of time you devote to the baby.  I think you bought a box of cigars and a few drinks about six years ago celebrating his arrival, and since that time you've told him hello in the mornings and good-night in the evenings -- when you were home -- almost every day, not overlooking the three hours you entertained him one afternoon while I went to visit a friend in a hospital.

     " 'Yet, if he don't mind the minute you tell him to do something you rave at me about spoiling him.  The truth of the matter is the poor child isn't well enough acquainted with you to be certain whether or not he ought to take orders from you'."

     "Did she have any other grievances?" Hurrah Smith inquired.

     "I don't know whether you'd call 'em grievances or not," Lewis replied.  "She said something about her idea of marriage was that it was a partnership, with each partner owning an equal share of the business, but according to the average man's idea a woman after marriage was about as important as the vice-president of the United States.

     "She said there wasn't much difference between a married woman and a regular servant, except that a regular servant did get a day off now and then and could change her position if she didn't like the one she had.  She also added when she used to work she knew what her salary was, but she believed that it was more exciting guessing how much she was to get each week from me.

     " 'Sometime,' she added, 'you might have a lapse of memory and bring me home a box of chocolates just to see if I could eat them.  Nine years of yankee peanut have almost caused me to tire of it.  But be careful and don't bring out any roses or carnations.  My heart's weak and I'm afraid I couldn't stand the shock.' "

The Adventures of Fatty Lewis ~ A Serial ~ by Arthur F. Killick



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