_We cannot see any head or tail to this story, but as my
good friend Neely sent it in, I’ll publish it for his
benefit.—CAPTAIN BILLY._
A young man had an appointment for a lesson in phrenology and also an
appointment to meet his sweetheart. He was undecided which to keep, when
the girl telephoned. Learning of his difficulties, she asked him if he
had a coin in his pocket. He replied affirmatively.
“Well, flip it,” she said.
* * * * *
Not a Scotch Soldier!
Scene: Hotel verandah in Rhodesia. Time, 8:30 a. m., early 1919.
Personae: A South African Scottish N. C. O. in the garb of old Gael, and
civilian, to whom the former is telling the war tale.
Enter Indian waiter, who breathlessly addresses the soldier:
“You are wanted, sir, at once, at Room 23, and the lady says she feels
bad this morning.”
“Great Scot! What lady? Excuse me, you fellows.” Precedes his hasty
flight upstairs, where he had already noted that morning the presence of
a very dainty pair of lady’s shoes outside the door of No. 23.
Knocking at the door, it was partially opened, and the fair unknown,
peeping through the crack, no sooner caught sight of the kiltie than she
exclaimed:
“My God! What do you want here?”
Soldier: “The coolie waiter said you wanted me badly.”
Lady: “The ⸺ fool! Why, I sent him for a Scotch and soda!”
* * * * *
I was born in Kentucky,
Raised in Tennessee.
If you don’t like my peaches,
Don’t shake my tree.
Oh, tell me how long
Must I have to wait,
Will you jazz with me now
Or must I hesitate.
_Classified Ads_