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Updated: May 5, 2025
"Pray, tell me, what are those gummy flabs at the sides of your head?" "Those are my ears," I said with grinning face. "They grew there for a purpose." "And what can that purpose be?" further questioned the puzzled chairman. "They are for the purpose of hearing," I quickly replied. Then followed a curious scientific dialogue in which I endeavored to explain the sense of hearing.
And he said, did Flabs, that the whole was written down, and it should be printed when he was dead and buried, but not before, for he would not risk having his arms and legs broken. Once our aunt had been in fear and trembling in her temple of happiness, the theatre. It was on a winter day, one of those days in which one has a couple of hours of daylight, with a gray sky.
Let Herr Fabs see how he would get in himself; but what he said of the performers, tragedians and comedians, singers and dancers, that was the most rascally of all. Mr. Fabs, indeed! Flabs! He did not deserve to be admitted at all, and our aunt would not soil her lips with what he said.
She was an honorable matron; but Agent Fabs, whom she used to call "Flabs," declared that our aunt was stage-struck. "The theatre is my school," said she, "the source of my knowledge. From thence I have resuscitated Biblical history. Now, 'Moses' and 'Joseph in Egypt' there are operas for you! I get my universal history from the theatre, my geography, and my knowledge of men.
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