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Updated: June 12, 2025


"He's got a lot to do with it, you blithering boob." "Besides," drawled Peter Snipe, the novelist, picking doggedly at the calloused ridges on one of his palms, "some of the women object to moving in the dark of the moon. They say it's sure to bring bad luck." "There's quite a mixup about it," observed Flattner. "Part of 'em claim it's good luck.

He was not satisfied to leave the honors with this "snip of an American girl," and evolved a plan of verbal assault which was to bring the provincial upstart to her senses, only to discover that she had a dozen defenses for each attack, and to find himself, for two consecutive, disconcerting minutes, wondering if perchance he might be a "boob."

I'd like to be decent to her, but I can't stand the cocktail life. Lord, that time she danced, though. Oh hell, to get back to the reception. It was pretty big. Parade of the Aero Club and Squadron A, me in an open-face hack, feeling like a boob while sixty leven billion people cheered.

He stands on that street corner looking for an imaginary angel parachuting down, and enjoys himself more than the Mephistopheles who is laughing up his sleeve. Nature must love the Boob, because she is a good deal of a Boob herself.

Again the leather disc spun through the air. "Two strikes," called the warning voice. "Great Scott, Stubbie, look out. Don't waste strokes like that, you boob. Let the things go by if they don't suit you. You don't have to hit them." Once more the ball spun through the air. A smart crack followed and up into the blue leaped the ball, defying the pursuit of catcher or baseman.

Alkali Ike started in and aimed at the right of the line of bottles instead of the left, and the poor boob behind the scenes started breaking the bottles on the left, and then the box-holders turned loose; but outside of this little fiasco the performance was a huge success, and we decided to run it for a week.

'Peter! she cried, then with a woman's intuition she exclaimed, 'You have come to murder your uncle. Don't do it. My whole mood changed. I broke down and cried like a like a " Kelly paused a moment. "Like a boob," said Kent softly. "Go on." "When I had done crying, we heard voices. 'Quick, she exclaimed, 'flee, hide, he must not see you. She rushed into the adjoining room, closing the door.

Whereupon Claudine would jack him up and tell him to pull out his Cuffs and push back the Forelock and try to be Human. No use. He was strictly Ritz-Carlton from the Pumps to the Topper, but the word "Boob" was plainly stenciled on the glossy Front. When they had conquered all the Eating-Places in the Tenderloin they moved on to Europe, where they were just as welcome as Influenza.

The Boob is hopeful, cheery, more concerned over other people's troubles than his own. He goes serenely unsuspicious of the brick under the silk hat, even when the silk hat is on the head of a Mayor or City Councilman. He will pull every trigger he meets, regardless that the whole world is loaded and aimed at him.

They wanted to send me up for life me, an innocent man. Your kind done it the cops. You ain't no cop; but you're just as rotten. Now say yer prayers." He leveled the revolver at his victim's head. The deputy sheriff slumped to his knees and tried to embrace Billy Byrne's legs as he pleaded for his life. "Cut it out, you poor boob," admonished Billy.

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