Indianapolis Times, Volume 48, Number 21, Indianapolis, Marion County, 4 April 1936 — Page 17

APRIL 4, 1936

— Today's Short Story TELEPHONE COMPLEX By Clarence Woodbury

WHEN Sam went home from the office that night he was in a righteous rage. Not during the five years of his married life had he been so burned up, so absolutely furious at the little woman.

“She's got to decide,” he fumed between clenched teeth as he got off the bus; “once and for all she's got to make a choice! We can’t both live in the same house with her at the same time —I and the telephone!” For a long ume, for years before what happened today, even before they were married, Sam had known that Sally had a telephone complex. What catnip is to a cat, a baby to its mother, Scotch to soda, the telephone was to Sajly. She was bewitched, possessed of a devil, and the devil was the black instrument on the hall table. All day long she was at it. From morning till night she gabbed—gabbed with girl friends, with relatives, with store clerks, with tradesmen. Usually, Sam didn’t mind much. Sally was grand in other respects and he liked to hear her voice at all times, but enough was enough. What had happened today was the last straw. It was a question of survival of the fittest in his household —himself or the telephone. One must go! tt tt tt FISTS clenched, face flushed, Sam strode from the bus stop to the house and let himself in. Sally met him at the door. She was wearing her best dinner dress, he was surprised to see, and looked mighty pretty in it, too, but Sam didn t kiss the lips which she turned up to his. He intended to blow up, to blow sky high, and he wasn’t going to let anything interfere with his purpose. “Well, you’ve done it this time,” he shouted without even taking off his overcoat, “you and your damned telephone!” Sally drew back dismayed. “What's the matter, dear?” she asked. "What’s the matter?” Sam roared, “I'll tell you what’s the matter’. You’ve got a telephone complex, that’s what’s the matter, and it’s about to ruin our lives and I won’t stand for it!” Sally looked more dismayed than ever, and baffled too. “What on earth happened?” she asked. “11l tell you what happened” Sam cried. “I’ll tell you in two chapters, my fine lady. First, my raise. You know the raise I’ve been struggling for for years—working my fingers to the bone?” “Yes.” "Well, today I finally go t the boss in a good humor. I cornered him at my desk on his way to lunch and kidded him along a little, i had him grinning all over, and Was just set to put the old question to him. It would have been a cinch to get the raise out of him. But just then, just at that second ” tt a tt WHAT happened?” asked Sallv breathlessly. "Why, my phone n#g!” Sam bellowed. “it went ding-aling-aling. and I answered it. And who do you suppose it was? It was mv dear w ife. And what did she want? She wanted to tell me that it looked like rain!” Sam paused dramatically. “And when she got through blah-’olahing. what do you suppose had happened to the boss and my raise? They were both gone.” Sally clasped her hands together. ’ Oh, darling, I’m so sorry,” she said. “But it did look like rain and ” Sam interrupted her brutally. “But that wasn’t enough,” he stormed, “not nearly enough! Listen to the second chapter. This afternoon I got a real break. A big buyer who we’ve never done business with before comes to town from out West. His name is Josh Kemmerer, and ” “Kemmerer?” said Sally. “Yes. Kemmerer, but it wouldn’t j matter now if his name was Bartholomew Whatsis. Not a whit. Well, I’m laying down the old sales I line and going swell and I’ve got this Kemmerer pretty groggy— j Just about ready to sign on the dot- I ted line for a whopping bill of goods. “It’s a big deal, so big that it would mean a sweet commission l and ma£e me sure of my raise—the -aise I missed in the morning. But just when everything's going hotsy- ! totsy what happens?" “What?” again Sally was breathless. 000 "VI7'HY, my phone rings again—- ▼ T ding-allng-aling! And I have to stop right in the middle of a clenching argument and answer it. And who is it? It’s my little wife again. And what does she want this time? Why, she w ants to know whether Mary, Queen of Scots, was a blond or a brunatarfShe was just wondering about ft, she says.” Sam made noises in his throat. "But that wasn’t all I wanted to talk about,” Bally protested, "I

I wanted to tell yqu something, but lyou got mad and slammed up the j receiver.” “Os course I got mad,” Sam : shouted, “and I was sc mad that I ! couldn’t pick up my sales talk where I left off and this man Kemmerer got away from me—slid right off my line after I had him as good as hooked!” “Kemmerer?” said Sally again. “Don't try to distract me,” roared Sam. “Now I’m going to tell you something. Tomorrow I’m going to have that phone ripped out of here lock, stock and barrel!” “But it’s my only indulgence,” pleaded Sally, “What would I do without it?” “You’ll do as your grandmother did” Sam told her. “The oldtimers didn’t have telephones and they got along quite well. If they wanted to send a message to somebody, they wrote a note and sent it by a courier on horseback. Well, I’ll buy you a flock of notepaper and a horse, too, if you want it, but no more telephones! Understand? tt u tt TWO little roses bloomed in Sally’s cheeks. She was getting angry, too. “You make me sick,” she said. “I was going to tell you something, but now I won’t.” Sam was about to reply, but just then a taxi stopped in front of the house. A man and a woman got out and came to the door. Sally greeted them, while Sam, annoyed at being interrupted in his tirade, got around to taking off his overcoat. Then Sally presented him and he almost dropped dead. The man who had just entered his home was Josh Kemmerer, the buyer from out West who had slipped through his fingers that afternoon. The woman was his wife. Sam was stricken speechles for the moment. He thought he was dreaming. Then Sally explained. “Dora,” she said, putting her arm around Mrs. Kemmerer, “is an old school friend of mine, dear, from back home. She and Mr. Kemmerer are in town for a few days. Isn’t it lovely that they could come and have dinner with us?” Sam was still dazed, but he managed to say something to Mr. Kemmerer, also surprised, about it’s being a small world. The girls exclaimed, too, about the coincidence of the men having met before. Then they went in to dinner. 0 0 0 THE wine was what Sam needed. It restored his self-assurance. He was still somewhat bewildered, but when an apple dropped in his lap he knew what to do with it. After dinner, while the gilds were gossiping about old friends, he drew Mr. Kemmerer into one corner of the living room and jn a few minutes sold him the bill of goods which he had attempted to purvey earlier in the day. Not only that, Mr. Kemmerer gave him to understand he might have more orders to place in the future. It was a merry evening and the guests stayed late. When they had gone Sam grabbed Sally and danced her thrice around the living room. “Baby, what a break!” he exulted. “You're some little hostess!” “Then you might help me dry the dishes,” said Sally, drawing away a bit coolly. “But how did you know your friend Dora Kemmerer was in town?” aked Sam, flourishing a tea towel. “You say you seldom write to each other.” “The home town paper,” Sally told him. “I saw in the social notes that Dora and her husband were coming to New' York.” 000 “F>UT how did you know where 13 they would stop?” “The telephone,” replied Sally a bit maliciously. “I just called all the hotels until I found the one where they were stopping.” Sam said nothing. He knew when he was licked. “That was a great dinner.” he commented after awhile; “how did you get it together in such a hurry?” “The telephone.” said Sally again. "I Just called the stores for what I needed.” “And the wine. That was just the stuff to soften old Kemmerer up for my knockout punch.” “The telephone,” said Sally once more, “i called the liquor shop.” “Hmm.” Sam cleared his throat. “Well, I'm going to call the phone company.” “What!” Sally flared, “you mean to say you still want it ripped out.” “Not at all, my dear,” Sam answered her, “not at all. I'm just going to tell them to put in extension phones for you in the bedroom and kitchen. You can have ’em in the cellar and attic, too, if you want.” j . THE END.

OURBOAKDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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ALLEY OOP

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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THE TARZAN TWINS

After a few moments Dick stirred slightly, then suddenly sat bolt upright. “The lion!” he whispered tensely: “wheres the lion?” “I heard him running away,” Doc replied; “for a minute, when you didn’t answer me, I thought sure he’d got you. Oh, boy!”

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

“He almost got me,” Dick replied; "I put out my spear. The lion leaped. He hit me and knocked me down, but I don’t understand why he kept going. Let’s get away quick before he comes back.” “We can get up into the tree now,” said Doc; “I’ve found a way to do it.”

With Major H'oople

OUT OUR WAY

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. ®IW6 BY MCA StfcViCE. IWCT U. S. PAT. OFF.— ¥

Dick’s sound, athletic body enabled him to recover quickly from the lion’s knockout blow, and Doc led him to a small tree growing near the big one. This they climbed until they were able to grasp the branches of the jungle giant and perch themselves comfortably.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

By shouting they soon located Ukundo and Bulala in a nearby tree, and a short discussion produced the decision that they remain where they were until morning. “Anyway, no lions can ret ua here," said Doc; ‘they can’t climb trees." “Panthers can!” Dick replied grimly.

COMIC PAG*

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Hamlin

—By Martin: