Skiddoo! Part 8

Yours as per usual, BUNCH.

CHAPTER VII

JOHN HENRY ON CHAFING DISHES

I pulled a wheeze on Bunch Jefferson a few weeks ago that made him sit up and scream for help.

Bunch is the Original Ace all right, all right, but it does put dust on his dignity to have anybody josh his literary attainments.

Bunch can really sling a nasty little pen, but he isn't anybody's John W. Milton.

Not at all.

He can take a bunch of the English language and flatten it out around the edges till it looks quite poetic, but that doesn't make him a George O. Khayaam.

Not at all.

The trouble with Bunch is that his home folks have swelled his chest to such an extent by petting his adjectives that he thinks he has Shakespeare on a hot skiddoo for the sand dunes, and when it comes to that poetry thing he thinks he can make Hank Longfellow beat it up a tree.

Bunch lives out in Westchester County in one of those hand-painted suburbs where everybody knows everybody else's business and forgets his own.

Bunch and Alice joined the local club, of course, and when Bunch read some of his poetical outbursts at a free-and-easy one evening, Society got up on its hind legs and with one voice declared my old pal Jefferson to be the logical successor to Robert H. Browning, Sir Walter K. Scott, Bert Tennyson, or any other poet that ever shook a quill.

Bunch began to fancy himself some--well, rather!

When Peaches and I went out Westchester way a few weeks ago to spend a week-end with Bunch and Alice, all we heard was home-made poetry.

When Bunch wasn't ladling out impromptu sonnets, Alice was reading one of his epics or throwing a fit over a "perfectly lovely"

rondeau--whatever that may be.

Even at meal times Bunch couldn't break away.

With a voice full of emotion and vegetable soup he would exclaim:

And now the twilight shadows on The distant mountain flutter, And thou, my fair and good friend John, Wilt kindly pa.s.s the b.u.t.ter!

What are you going to do with a man who has a bug like that?

What would you do, if while sitting at breakfast with an old chum, he suddenly yelped in accents wild:

The palpitating Elsewhere shrinks Before that glamorous host, Eftsoon, aye, now, good friend, methinks That thou would'st have more toast!

It was clearly up to me to hand Bunch a good hard b.u.mp and wake him up before that poetry germ began to bite his arm off.

Bunch told me that in response to the urgent demands of his Westchester friends, he contemplated getting out a little book of his poems, and this was my cue.

I figured it out that the ant.i.thesis of a book of poetry would be a cook book, so I hustled.

In a few days I had the book framed up; a few days later it was printed, and before very long Bunch's Westchester society friends were grabbing for what they supposed was his feverish output of poesy.

This is what they got:

A GUIDE TO THE CHAFING DISH.

BY BUNCH JEFFERSON

(From Recipes Furnished by Famous Friends.)

In presenting these Cuckoo Recipes for the Chafing Dish to his friends Mr. Jefferson wishes it distinctly understood that all doctors' bills arising from a free indulgence in any of the dishes suggested herein must be paid by the indulgee, and he wishes to state, further, that while this book may contain many aches and pains no ptomaine is intended.

MOCK BAKED BEANS.

(From a Recipe furnished by Morton Smith.)

Take as many b.u.t.tons as the family can afford and remove the thread.

Add pure spring water and stew gently till you burst your b.u.t.tons. Add a little flour to calm them and let them sizzle. Serve with tomato ketchup or mola.s.ses, according to the location you find yourself living on the map. A quart bottle of Pommery on the side will help some.

MOCK HAM AND EGGS.

(From a Recipe furnished by De Wolf Hopper.)

Place the white of a newspaper in the frying pan, and then cover the centre with an Italian sunset picked fresh from a magazine picture.

This forms the basis of the egg and it tastes very realistic. Be sure to get a fresh newspaper and a fresh magazine, edited by a fresh editor, otherwise the imitation egg will be dull and insipid. Now add a few slices of pickled linoleum and fry carelessly for twenty minutes.

Serve hot with imitation salt and pepper on the side. This is a daylight dish, because the sunset effect is lost if cooked after dark.

MOCK LAMB CHOPS.

(From a Recipe furnished by William T. Hodge.)

Saw away three chops from the face of the kitchen table and put them in the broiler. Be economical with the sawdust, which can be forced into a cottage pudding. When the chops begin to sizzle, add a red necktie and a small bunch of imitation b.u.t.ter and stir gently. Now let them sizzle. If the chops crack across the surface while cooking, it is a sign you were cheated when you bought the kitchen table. Let them sizzle. Serve hot with imitation water cresses on the side. Nice water cresses can be made from green window blinds cut on the bias.

HAMBURGER STEAK.

(From a Recipe furnished by Silvio Hein.)

Always be sure to get a fresh Hamburger. There is nothing that will reconcile a man to a vegetarian diet so quick as an over-ripe Hamburger. They should always be picked at the full of the moon. To tell the age of a Hamburger look at its teeth. One row of teeth for every year, and the limit is seven rows. Now remove the wishbone and slice carefully. Add Worcester sauce and let it sizzle. Add a pinch of potato salad and stir gently. Serve hot and talk fast while eating.

IMITATION SAUSAGES.