LizzieMaine
Bartender
- Messages
- 33,715
- Location
- Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
("Yeh," yehs Sally, as the train pulls out of the 18th Avenue station. "Joe cawlt las' night -- he tried Schriebstein's an' we wasn' home, so he cawlt Ma's place an' caught us jus' as we was gettn' ready t'leave. Technician Fit' Grade Joe Petrauskas. Two stripes an' a T." "Whassat mean?" queries Alice. "I t'ought two stripes was a cawrpr'l, y'know, like Solly Pincus." "Eh," ehs Sally. "He says he's gonna get paid t'same as a cawrpr'l, an' people gonna CAWL'im cawrpr'l, but he can't ordeh nobody aroun' like a cawrpr'l." "Oh," frowns Alice. "So if Joe an' some real cawrpr'l bot' get onna train' annez on'y one seat, Joe don' get t'sit innit?" Sally gives Alice a sideways squint. "I dunno," she shrugs. "He didn' say nut'nabout t'at." "T' Awrmy," sighs Alice, "sueh is funny." "He's sposta get in at Raritan, New Joisey 'bout nine a'clock t'marra night," Sally continues. "Uncle Frank an' Ma an' me an' Leonoreh gonna go out t'eh inna truck. Uncle Frank says he was able t'get a priority f't' gas." "Wondeh how many cases 'at cost 'im?" Sally frowns at Alice's sotto-voce remark. "Y'know," she admonishes, "You oughta make an appernt'm'nt t'see Docteh Levine. She says mumblin' t'y'self is a sign'a whatcha cawl neurosis.")
Allied armies have bypassed and invested Poggibonsi and Arezzo, last big transport hubs on the way to Florence, as American forces today threatened Terriociola, 17 miles east of Livorno, after capturing a number of German strongholds in a flanking drive against the great Italian port.
American infantry troops and artillerymen were taking a heavy toll on troops today as they battled a force of 45,000 Japanese trying to break thru a trap below Aitape on the northern coast of New Guinea. Enemy forces, units of the Japanese 18th Army, were believed to be using mortars, field guns, and automatic weapons in a drive described as "a suicide attack."
("I am TOO a good engraver," protests a small man wearing a green celluloid eyeshade, as Uncle Frank scowls at another unsatisfactory proof sheet. "Oi could draw a better camel meself," growls Uncle Frank. "Do it ovarr, an' this toime put ye glasses on!" "Cigarette packs is hawrd!" protests the engraver. "Now, you wanna see sump'n, you oughta see t'ese C stamps I done!")
(Myrus is still playing at the Pierre because he can't remember where he parked his car.)
The Eagle Editorialist gives his strong endorsement to regional OPA administrator Daniel Woolley's campaign to enforce ceiling prices on Coney Island merchants. Noting that any soldier or sailor who is clipped for a dime for a five-cent drink is likely to tell about how he was gypped, the EE warns that "no community, least of all a playground like Coney, can afford the reputation of being a place where visitors are shaken down for all the loose change in their pockets."
(The divorce rate in 1944 is at an all time high -- but wait'll next year!)
(The worst thing about Reiser hitting that wall, aside from the simple fact of him hitting it, is that he hit it *face first.* It's a wonder he wasn't killed on the spot. If only the Army had taken Slaughter a year earlier...)
("A Bolivian tin magnate? Well, that's different!")
(At least you can hold the onions.)
(This isn't covered in the Guild contract.)
(Oh yes, of the Sutton Place Magnanimouses.)
(At least stop and eat first.)