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Updated: May 26, 2025
No this cream is just as sour as the other my play will be the internal tragedy of the thinker. 'The internal tragedy of the thinker is indigestion, laughed the ex-Badchan; 'you'd better be more careful with the cream-tarts. The Heathen Journalist broke through the laughter. 'Strikes me, Pin-cuss, you're giving us Hamlet without the Prince of Denmark.
'Then Iselmann did not produce it? asked the Heathen Journalist, who haunted the East Side for copy, and pronounced Pinchas 'Pin-cuss. 'No, I changed his name to Eselmann, the Donkey-man. For I had hardly read him ten lines before he brayed out, "Where is the Ghost?" "The Ghost?" I said. "I have laid him. He cannot walk on the modern stage." Eselmann tore his hair.
At sight of the author he shied. 'Must skedaddle, Pin-cuss, he said apologetically, 'if we're to get anything into to-morrow's paper. Your people are so durned slow nearly eleven, and only two acts over. You'll have to brisk 'em up a bit. Good-bye. He shook the poet's hand and was off. With an inspiration Pinchas gave chase. He caught the Journalist just boarding a car.
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