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Updated: June 20, 2025
Tickler's arm, encouragingly, and replied, "Friend Tickler, heaven has given you a good understanding, and it comforts me that you take this little affair no worse." "How much worse your excellency would have it I know not. And it occurs to my mind that this mauling and scraping is no part of my mission.
Gusterson asked, scanning the tunnel ahead for curves. "Or just shoot straight up to infinity?" "Exactly! Of course most of the last power and a half is due to Tickler itself. Gussy, the tickler's already eliminated absenteeism, alcoholism and aboulia in numerous urban areas and that's just one letter of the alphabet!
"Who'd want to loaf around in an imaginary world and take a chance of missing out on what his tickler's doing? I mean, on what his tickler has in store for him what he's told his tickler to have in store for him." Ignoring Gusterson's shiver, Fay straightened up and seemed to brisken himself. "Ha, that little slump did me good.
Tickler; and though the wits of the landlord are sharp enough, it is no rare thing for him to get shorn by those who seek meat-offerings of the government." Here Tickler's mind seemed to run back to a subject upon which it was wont to dwell-the style of his dress. And, throwing himself back in his chair, he raised his right foot upon his left knee, and inquired of Mr.
Again it flashed across his mind that if Tickler's courage was not quite up to the mark, he might have decided to try the virtue of his heels now, rather than trust them when facing a villainous enemy on the field of battle. But all these speculations proved mere hauntings of the brain; since when he arrived at the Girard House in Philadelphia, he found to his great surprise that "Mr. and Mrs.
Besides such methods of passing the time, there are baths to be had in the great brewery vats of the village, there is an inter-company hockey tournament to be played with a Tickler's jam tin in lieu of a ball, and, best of all, there is the "sing-song."
"Well for one thing," he said, "it means that a man's taking orders from something else. He's got a kind of master. He's sinking back into a slave psychology." "He's only taking orders from himself," Fay countered disgustedly. "Tickler's just a mech reminder, a notebook, in essence no more than the back of an old envelope. It's no master." "Are you absolutely sure of that?"
The general immediately fell in with this opinion, and indeed was so entertained by his narrative, that he would have ordered a dozen punches without considering his obligation to him wiped out. The punch being dispatched, the general slipped five dollars into Mr. Tickler's hand, and desired him to proceed to the host, thank him for his great kindness, and clear the little score from his ledger.
Well, here's this one little guy and every morning he wakes up there's all these things he's got to keep in mind to do or he'll lose his turn three times in a row and maybe a terrible black rook in iron armor'll loom up and bang him off the chessboard. But now, look, now he's got his tickler and he tells his sweet silver tickler all these things and the tickler's got to remember them.
And the force and density of this so nearly drowned the simple-minded critic that he several times gasped for breath, and indeed seemed on the very point of dissolution. It ought to be mentioned here that the hanging by the heels, which is a part of this excellent and very ancient custom, was, out of sheer respect to Tickler's fame as a critic, omitted in this instance.
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