Pa thought he was smart when he got
me to put tar on my lip, to bring my moustache out, and to-day he
lays on a bed of pain, and to-morrow your turn will come. You will regret
that you did not get down on your knees and beg my pardon. You will be
sorry that you did not prescribe cold cream for my bruised lip, instead of
cayenne pepper. Beware, you base twelve ounces to the pound huckster, you
gimlet-eyed seller of dog sausage, you sanded sugar idiot, you small
potato three card monte sleight of hand rotten egg fiend, you villain that
sells smoked sturgeon and dogfish for smoked halibut. The avenger is on
your track."
"Look here, young man, don't you threaten me, or I will take you by the
ear and walk you through green fields, and beside still waters to the
front door and kick your pistol pocket clear around so you can wear it for
a watch pocket in your vest. No boy can frighten me by crimus. But tell
me, how did you get even with your Pa?"
"Well, give me a glass of cider and we will be friends and I will tell
you. Thanks! Gosh, but that cider is made out of mouldy dried apples and
sewer water," and he took a handful of layer raisins off the top of a box
to take the taste out of his mouth, and while the grocer charged a peck of
rutabagas, a gallon of cider and two pounds of raisins to the boy's Pa,
the boy proceeded:
"You see, Pa likes a joke the best of anybody you ever saw, if it is on
somebody else, but he kicks like a steer when it is on him.
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