Читать книгу Hashimura Togo, Domestic Scientist - Wallace Irvin - Страница 7

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To Editor Good Housekeeper Magazine, who are still there, I hopes,

Dear Sir:—Kindly to please notice my detachment from employ of Hon. Mrs. & Mr. Anna G. Sulkz, Cornstable, N. J. I shall tell you how they carelussly came to remove their home without including me among furniture.

One morning a.m. Hon. Mrs. arrive to kitchen and observe me singing Japanese opera amid dish-pans.

“Togo,” she say it, “date of Maytime will soonly arrive up. May Day are come when nervus prostration are enjoyed by all Homes which must travel for their health.”

“I should like learn this education,” I say it.

“You shall,” she pronounce. “Kindly to begin at oncely. Firstly you may rave through house tearing all pictures down and all carpets up. We must move on Wednesday before our lease stops doing so.”

“I shall obey with faithful mania,” are promus from me.

So I do so to any extent. I seek forth with tack hammer and am so earnest from labor that entire residence look quite cyclone. Too bad important cow portrait hanging over piano were crushed by falling on that mahogany music! Also sorry to observe so much jugs, china, and ancestors bursted by striking me while I worked! But what you expect? Home are like any other ship. It would not be wrecked if it would remain motionless.

But Hon. Mrs. Sulkz would not agree to this wisdoms. When plaster cast of Mr. Dante, famous inferno, fell over and stroked me on forehead with his sharp nose, Hon. Mrs. make loudy ouch.

“Awful!” she yellup. “Why must everything break what strikes you?”

“I am grieved.” This from me. “If that poet gentleman had less soft head it would not explode when striking mine.”

“It were an artistic bust,” she narrate while weeping.

“I notice this,” I reprobate while sweeping up small plaster fraxures from that great poetry.—And so onwards.

When Hon. Sulkz, important gentleman of Senator Penrose resemblance, retire homewards that night, he look round with anxious thumbs.

“I wish women could vote,” he exaggerate, “because then they would get less time for housekeeping and home would be left comfortable once in a whiles.”

Hon. Mrs. make pepper answer to this reply, but I were too busy dragging carpet downstairs by his ears.

At lastly morning of May date arrive. I awoke and called me early, wishing to think Tennyson poem, but could not do because rain ensued as usual and Italian-speaking shovels was digging gas-hole in street amidst intense odor of smell.

I hear noise of considerable “Whoa!” befront of house. Look see! Three swollen wagons resembling circus was there while 3 drivers, assisted by enlarged Irish, spoke language to horses wearing overalls.

I rosh downwards to open door and all Moving Vanners rosh inwards intending to make jiu-jitsu with furniture.

“O please!” collapse Hon. Mrs. while them 6 Vanners looked cruelty at piano while unrolling their giant muscles. “O please be gentle with my home!”

“Mrs. Lady,” say Hon. Boss Mover, making chawtobacco, “strong men are always kindest.” With such dictation he embrace Hon. Piano with terrible Turkish elbows and knock off several legs by removing door-knob while brushing too close. Assisted by considerable Irish, Hon. Piano make crash-bang music by stumbling into Van.

“How could you treat music so carelussly?” chock Hon. Mrs. ringing her hands.

“One cannot be a Sandow and a Paderewski at same moment,” snuggest Hon. Boss Vanner while performing slides with bed furniture.

Pretty soonly all that Home was ejected outward into street. Ancestors, coal-scuttles, landscapes, dictionary, dust-pan, etc. all waltzed down stairway on top of that great muscle. When Hon. Vanner drop bureau which crack in 2 he say to Hon. Mrs. Sulkz, with chivalry expression, “I call you to witness; this goods is damaged.” And so onwards.

Pretty soonly, when that Home were completely tied down in wagons, Hon. Mrs. arise upwards from her nervus prostration and say so to me, “Togo, can your brain do some intellect?”

“I shall be entirely brilliant, if brain is not,” I promus.

“Well, if so,” she snagger, “I wish you would ride on front wagon with Chief Housebreaker and tell his brainless mind the number of new house where it should go.”

“Where shall it be?” I inquest.

“Remember this number exactly—125 North Orange Street. Can your memory assimilate it?”

“Doggishly!” I insure.

“Remember—125!!” she holla while Hon. Vanload chuckle off.

This job of bossing boss make me entirely enlarged in my sensations which feel like German army. To think of! Small-down Japanese like me setting there in frontwheel seat dictating orders to gigantic Irish! This show how brains is more muscular than muscle.

Pretty soonly we arrive up to home entitled Number 125. O such landscape of expensive house! Front lawn extending on all sides, considerable pompus windows, goddesses in iron nightgowns standing near fountains, and front door of considerable brass resembling Senators. Joy inflamed my ears. How pleasure I feel to know that Hon. Mr. Sulkz had increased his salary so much he could afford to move into house like a library.

While thinking this intelligence I stood forth and command all those enlarged Vanners like Napoleon moving into France. Firstly we go to front door of new home for open him so furniture get in. How strange! Hon. Key seem disabled to unlock it. Howeverly much we twist and fubble, it make no impression on that brassy opening.

“You have got wrong key,” say Chief Mover. “But not be dishcouraged. I was once a burglar. Therefore I can deceive that lock into opening himself.”

With talented thumbs and several pocket-knife he stroggled & ranched until—O suddenly!—Hon. Door click apart and there we stood in grandy hall resembling theaters.

But what I see there? Surprise! That home we entered were entirely filled with furniture of boastful appearance. Sofas, statues & gilty upholstery stood everywhere looking natural.

“Last family have been too sluggish to move out in time,” glub Hon. Vanner. “Shall we throw out this proud furniture and wedge ours in?”

“Not sure,” I renig dubfully. “So many sideboards & pianos might be too heavy to throw very far. Perhapsly they are new instalment furniture bought by Hon. Sulkz to fill up.”

“Gentlemen with so much duplicate tables should lead double lives,” grubble Hon. Boss Teamer. “Shall we move inwards?”

“With immediate quickness!” I signify, making Admiral Dewey eyebrows.

So all Moving Vanners do so with immediate strength. Sooner than before all that Sulkz home was walking into midst of grandeur which look quite snobbish to see so many plain chair & table piled up in midst of that Czar of Russia parlor. No room was for another piano, yet we pile him next. Dining-room were too much crowd for second table, yet we set 2 on top of each other. Same thing must be did with beds, stoves, and wash-tubs.

When all this jobs were completely finished, that house look like a judge after Republican banquets—entirely grand, yet too filled to feel comfortable.

However! When all those Vanners say “Gid-dap!” and drove away in Gen. Direction of more beer, I sat alonesome in house. 4 hours I await idly doing nothing. What had occurred to kill all Sulkz family that they do not come to reside in this new palace? I was confused. Night time approach up. I could hear ghosts creaking under piano, so I lit $10000 chandelier in dining-room and ate crackers while pretending I were King of Portugeese expecting revolution.

Silence was interrupted by noise. What was? I heard many footprints walking into house—and while it was too soon to hide, 2 realestaters, 6 police, Mrs. Sulkz, Mr. Sulkz, child & dog walk inwards.

“How you get in here?” howell Hon. Mrs. with voice.

“I move in,” I narrate calmly. “This are number you told.”

“It are right number but wrong house,” she snuggest. “I told you North Orange Street. This are South Orange Street.”

“Would that make some importance?” I ask out.

“Mentality of a mice!” she aggravate. “Do you not know difference between North and South?”

“There are no difference,” I explan with Abe Lincoln expression. “That were settled by civil war.”

But before I could complete finishing my talk, more civil war elapsed while Hon. Sulkz, police, real-estate, child & dog poke me through mixed furniture while I eloped away like an old-fashioned egg escaping from Dr. Ostler.

Hoping you are the same,

Yours truly,

Hashimura Togo.