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"Break 'is bleedin' neck," said Chook as he stepped up. "When I want yer advice, I'll ask fer it," cried Stinky. "Yer'll git it now without askin'," said Chook. "Don't open yer mouth so wide, or yer'll ketch cold." "I don't want ter talk ter anybody as 'awks rotten cabbages through the streets," cried Stinky. "The cabbages don't stink worse than some people I've met," Chook replied.
"Cum on, blokes, an' see a bit o' fun," he cried with a mirthless grin that showed he was dangerously excited. The three larrikins caught up with Stinky and the girl as they were crossing into Belmore Park. Stinky was explaining to some sympathizers the events that had led up to the quarrel. "Wot would yous do if a bloke tried to sneak yer moll?" he inquired in an injured tone.
"A dollar even money yer can't ring the bell in six shots," cried Chook. "Done!" shouted Stinky. The stakes, in half-crowns, were handed to the proprietor of the gallery, and they took turns with the pea-rifle, resting their elbows on the ledge as they stared down the black tube at a white disc that seemed miles away.
The contest went on, each striving to beat the other's mark, with blows that threatened to shatter the machine, till both were tired. But Stinky's second blow held the record. Chook was beaten. "Is there any other game yer know?" sneered Stinky. Near them were the shooting-galleries, looking like enormous chimneys that had blown down. A sharp, spitting crack came from each rifle as it was fired.
Pinkey's young man had called to take her home, and Chook had recognized him for an old enemy, a wool-washer, called "Stinky" Collins on account of the vile smell of decaying skins that hung about his clothes. Chook began to make love to Pinkey under his very eyes. And Stinky sat in sullen silence, refusing to open his mouth.
Suddenly, as the dial marked three-quarters, he dropped the handles with a grin of triumph at Pinkey. Stinky, smarting with defeat, instantly took up the challenge. "That's no test of strength," he cried angrily. "Women can stand a lot more than men." "Orl right; choose yer own game, an' I'm after yer," said Chook.
Each held the gun awkwardly like a broom-handle, holding their breath to prevent the barrel from wobbling. At the fifth shot, by a lucky fluke, Chook rang the bell. When he put down the rifle, Stinky was already dragging Pinkey away, his face black with anger. But Chook cried out, "'Ere, 'arf a mo' this is my shout!"
And they gripped the brass handles, holding on till the tension became too great, with the conscientious air of people taking medicine. Stinky, full of jealous fear, had dragged Pinkey to the new market, where he meant to treat her to green peas and ice-cream.
"Maybe we need those Saber-Toothed Light Bulbs right here," suggested Nibbles. "Then the Stinkfoots would be too scared to start a fight." "I doubt it," reasoned President Schnozzle. "I'm not even sure that any Saber-Toothed Light Bulbs could handle the stinky smell of those buzzards." "Maybe not," said Hootsey. "But it is an idea.
I guess it's the decomposition of matter, molecules dancing around in the air or beginning to come apart like the chocolate in one's mouth. Chocolate, however, isn't stinky. Maybe the decomposition of things falling apart and going back to elements like hydrogen, oxygen, and carbon can either stink or be rather fragrant" "Why isn't the chocolate stinky?" "Good question.
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