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So says Attorney Toole. Things to eat is no more grafts as lung-tester is fire-extingables. So says Toole. So nobody won't prosecute me. I stick me to the mayor business yet a while. Klops on the head is nothings much; all big men gets them. So says Attorney Toole." Skinner was locking his shop when Eliph' passed, and the stopped Eliph' too. "Works fine," he said.
"Yes, sir, we got some nice Koenigsberger Klops to-day mit Kartoffel Kloes." "What d'ye take this gentleman for, anyway, Louis?" Abe asked. "A garbage can? Give him a nice slice of roast beef well done and a baked potato. Also bring two cups of coffee and give it the checks to me."
It was precisely one o'clock the following day when Morris Perlmutter seated himself at a table in the rear of Wasserbauer's Café and Restaurant. "Yes, sir, right away!" Louis, the waiter, cried, as he deposited a plate of dill pickles on the adjoining table, at which sat a stout middle-aged person with a napkin tucked in his neck. "Koenigsberger Klops is good to-day, Mr. Potash," Louis announced.
"Such a town is Kilo, to give mayors a klop on the head! Donnerblitzenvetter! Not so is it in Germany." He turned to the crowd. "A klop on the head! It is not for klops on the head that I am mayor. No. I resign out of this mayor business. Go get another mayor, such as likes klops on the head. I am no mayor. I am resigned."
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