DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Scienti Tales, v. 1, issue 1, January 1939

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Scienti Tales, v. 1, issue 1, January 1939

Page 20

THE HORRIBLE PANTOMINE
SCIENTI-TALES
PAGE 20...

"Good. For two hours I have waded through vice in Philadelphia Public Library. Now I want to was in a clean bathtub, walk barefoot on a clean floor, sweetly slumber between sheets. It is ten O'clock. I must sleep."

The bell boy came and I moved.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"No."

"A pint of whiskey?"

"Do I look like an alcoholic?"

"How about a little woman?"

"No. I have two daughters who have drained my purses dry. All I want is a clean bath in a clean bathroom and a night's rest. I am tired from my debauchery -- in the Philadelphia Public Library."

Sunday morning was very quiet. The Hotel lobby was occupied by two seniles, perhaps I made the third. I started conversation with the oldest of the two. He wore a derby hat. 

"You talk like a college man," he replied. "I cannot see very well but you talk as though you had some education."

"I am a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania," I assured him.

"Bah! I graduated from Princeton in 1873. Why in hell didn't you go to a real college?"

"He does not like me," I complained to the younger man. "You with your ten gallon hat, stock-driver's cane and cowboy boots, look as though you came from the West. Perhaps we talk the same language?"

"Darn you, No! I was born in New Jersey, graduated from Princeton, degenerated in Arizona. I may wear those clothes, but I cannot forget my youthful hatred of Pennsylvania. Leave us alone but before you go let me have your newspaper."

I handed him the New York Times and walked sadly to the door.

There I paused to observe the desk clerk playing ring-a-round a-rosey with a drunken sailor in the revolving door. The clerk was obese and elderly; the sailor muscular in spite of his inebrity. The door stopped with the sailor inside. Once again the door revolved madly and once again the sailor was inside. Finally, aided by a nigger porter the clerk paused breathless inside. The sailor, outside, started to indulge in pantomine. That was interesting to me and distressing.

I did not understand his gestures. I, who had studies pantomine from the Chaldean monuments, though Egyptian writing, to Petronious, Rabalais and up to the Broadway Burlesque, did not know what his actively moving fingers meant. But there was no doubt that he was converting his obscene meanings to the desk clerk who grew red in the face and breathed rapidly.

"Send for a cop!" he yelled.

The sailor laughed. They could not do it by themselves; they had to send for some kind of a land leather neck. He was content to leave and search for new foes to conquer. The desk clerk sank exhausted into a chair.

I walked hastily through the revolving doors and met the sailor on the sidewalk. Here was my chance to find what those messages were which had threatened the clerk with cerebral hemorrage.

"Can I do anything for you my friend?" I asked.

He lowered his head and looked at me intently.

"I see two of you and you are twins," he answered, "and you can each give me ten cent."

"Willingly, but first have breakfast. Come with me."

He started to cry. "I was going to lick both of you and the other one ran away. He was afraid. Well, I'll eat something."

We went into Linto's. I steered him to a seat, and helped him take off his coat. Waiting for the coffee and toast he fell asleep. But he suddenly roused and leaning over the table shook a gnarled fist in my face.

"I have a mother," he whispered sadly.

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THE HORRIBLE PANTOMINE SCIENTI-TALES PAGE 20... "Good. For two hours I have waded through vice in Philadelphia Public Library. Now I want to was in a clean bathtub, walk barefoot on a clean floor, sweetly slumber between sheets. It is ten O'clock. I must sleep." The bell boy came and I moved. "Anything else?" he asked. "No." "A pint of whiskey?" "Do I look like an alcoholic?" "How about a little woman?" "No. I have two daughters who have drained my purses dry. All I want is a clean bath in a clean bathroom and a night's rest. I am tired from my debauchery -- in the Philadelphia Public Library." Sunday morning was very quiet. The Hotel lobby was occupied by two seniles, perhaps I made the third. I started conversation with the oldest of the two. He wore a derby hat. "You talk like a college man," he replied. "I cannot see very well but you talk as though you had some education." "I am a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania," I assured him. "Bah! I graduated from Princeton in 1873. Why in hell didn't you go to a real college?" "He does not like me," I complained to the younger man. "You with your ten gallon hat, stock-driver's cane and cowboy boots, look as though you came from the West. Perhaps we talk the same language?" "Darn you, No! I was born in New Jersey, graduated from Princeton, degenerated in Arizona. I may wear those clothes, but I cannot forget my youthful hatred of Pennsylvania. Leave us alone but before you go let me have your newspaper." I handed him the New York Times and walked sadly to the door. There I paused to observe the desk clerk playing ring-a-round a-rosey with a drunken sailor in the revolving door. The clerk was obese and elderly; the sailor muscular in spite of his inebrity. The door stopped with the sailor inside. Once again the door revolved madly and once again the sailor was inside. Finally, aided by a nigger porter the clerk paused breathless inside. The sailor, outside, started to indulge in pantomine. That was interesting to me and distressing. I did not understand his gestures. I, who had studies pantomine from the Chaldean monuments, though Egyptian writing, to Petronious, Rabalais and up to the Broadway Burlesque, did not know what his actively moving fingers meant. But there was no doubt that he was converting his obscene meanings to the desk clerk who grew red in the face and breathed rapidly. "Send for a cop!" he yelled. The sailor laughed. They could not do it by themselves; they had to send for some kind of a land leather neck. He was content to leave and search for new foes to conquer. The desk clerk sank exhausted into a chair. I walked hastily through the revolving doors and met the sailor on the sidewalk. Here was my chance to find what those messages were which had threatened the clerk with cerebral hemorrage. "Can I do anything for you my friend?" I asked. He lowered his head and looked at me intently. "I see two of you and you are twins," he answered, "and you can each give me ten cent." "Willingly, but first have breakfast. Come with me." He started to cry. "I was going to lick both of you and the other one ran away. He was afraid. Well, I'll eat something." We went into Linto's. I steered him to a seat, and helped him take off his coat. Waiting for the coffee and toast he fell asleep. But he suddenly roused and leaning over the table shook a gnarled fist in my face. "I have a mother," he whispered sadly.