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Crook, Fine, And Stinker

Tom Thursday
(author of "The Tapeworm Turns!")

When we hear that Felony Jones is around, it's just
natural to expect a whammy artist in the background

I CAN TELL by the way the Boss's puss is puffing in and out that he does care for the rude manner in which Galloping McBumm is hammering his own personal fisticuffer, Socker Sosin. It is the third round and Sosin has been delighted to rest on the canvas at least six times or each time McBumm has tapped him on the beakus. This is indeed very disappointing because the Boss has come all the way to Miami to see his boy perform in the Orange Bowl, and he is positive Sosin should be the welter champ, regardless what happens.

Suddenly the Boss turns to me and states, like this, "I see from here that Felony Jones, the crook, has hired Magic Eye Fine to put the whammy on the Socker. All of which is undoubtlessly why my champ cannot make any headway with his natural ability."

The Boss is so irked and perturbed that he swallows his fresh-lit cigar and we have to sock him on the back before he will consider coughing it up. So me and the other boys get the Boss outside the Orange Bowl and inform him that we are very sorry that he is not feeling so well and likewise Socker Sosin.

"Look," says the Boss, "this here funny business has went far enough and I do not desire anymore shenagans from either Felony Jones or Magic Eye Fine. Therefore steps will be taken at once to see that matters are changed so that both them rats will keep out of my hair."

I am about to remind the Boss that he has forgot to put on his wig but he has always been very quick with a gun and I do not care to injure his feelings. "Well," I say, "what you have remarked is very quite true and them bums should be dealt with in a manner that is of interest to any smart embalmer. However," I add, "what is your desire in the matter?"

"You will find out where this Magic Eye Fine lives, which is no doubt in some alley ashcan, and you will bring him before me as soon as possible, if not ahead of time. I will then make a deal with Magic Eye and show him that his present connections is full of errors and also holes. Anyone," says the Boss, "who associates with such small-tripe tramps as Felony Jones is very weak in the head where the brains are supposed to be horsing around."

The Boss takes out a buck cigar and lights it with a dollar bill which same he claims is practically of no value due to the inflation that is now touring the country. The Boss is a very rich man because he made his money honestly in the Bolita racket which is nothing but selling numbers to folks who would like to strike it rich with no work whatsoever. The fact that they have only one chance in 999 of copping the right number when it falls is something that don't annoy them in the least because they have perhaps never went to school and studied arithmetic.

"Whatever you say, Boss," I remark, "is okay by me and the boys. If you desire to hold a little chitchat with Magic Eye Fine, I will see that he has the honor of your company. "But," I observe to the Boss, "if he does not care to visit you while still breathing what is your orders in such a unfortunate case in respect to sudden rigors of mortis?"

"You will please not rough him up beyond repairs," says the Boss, "because I want the full use of his Magic Eye, which same I have heard so much about, and perhaps I can even use him in my business. So you will kindly tell the boys to go nice and gentle, as Magic Eye Fine may be a very valuable man if he has the sense to listen to sound reason."

WHILST THE Boss is stopping in his own mansion on Hibiscus Island which same is sunk somewhere in Biscayne Bay, me and the boys is likewise taking advantage of the winter climate and also a suite in ...

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