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Updated: May 27, 2025
His striped suit was rumpled, the collar of his shirt was wrinkled, and dots of perspiration stood out on his upperlip and forehead. "Mr Weener?" he asked. "Oh, thank God, thank God." Completely at a loss, I followed him into his private office. "You recall commissioning us when we were located in Pomona to purchase some shares of Consolidated Pemmican and Allied Concentrates for your account?"
Except for the slightly embarrassing detail of being without current funds I was also free of Le ffaçasé and the Daily Intelligencer. "Mr Blank," I said, "I need some money for immediate expenses." "I knew youd see things in a sensible light, Weener. I'll have your check in a minute." "You misunderstand me. I have no intention of giving up any part of Consolidated Pemmican." "Ah?" "No."
"Ah, Weener, as you yourself would undoubtedly put it in your inimitable way, a bad penny always turns up. I could not say canis revertit suam vomitem, for it would invert a relationship the puke has returned to the dog.
"All right, Weener, spare me your poetry. Show it to me." "Well now, Miss Francis ..." I wanted, understandably enough, to discuss future arrangements before she saw Dinkman's lawn. "Immediately, Weener." When dealing with childish persons you have to cater to their whims.
Now then," I went on reasonably, "youre just going to have to dilute it or change it or do something to it, so while it will make grass nice and green, it won't let it grow wild like this." The fixed look could be annoying. It was nearly impossible to turn your eyes away without rudeness once she caught them. "Weener, the Metamorphizer is neither fertilizer nor plant food.
The broker dropped his hands against his thighs. "Mr Weener, you are an acute man. Mr Weener, I must confess the truth. You have bought more shares of Consolidated Pemmican than there are in existence; you not only own the firm, lock, stock and barrel, but you owe yourself money." He gave a weak laugh.
"You are dithery, Weener. Your epigrams have lost their jaunty air of discovery and your face is almost green." "You would not expect me to remain unaffected by the events around us, Miss Francis." "Wouldnt I?" she retorted incomprehensibly and went below to her cabin-laboratory. The Grass is reported in Essex and Hertfordshire.
Only Albert Weener that was probably why Burlet took advantage of his position to approach me with the scheme. Completely absurd.... Probably the complaints of the Australians gave final impetus to the Congress to Combat the Grass. They met in extraordinary session in Budapest and declared themselves the executive body of a world government, which did not of course include the Socialist Union.
Her massive, heavychinned face was untouched by makeup and suggested an equal innocence of other attentions. "Fertilizers! Poo! Expedients, Weener miserable, makeshift expedients!" Her unavoidable eyes bit into mine. "What is a fertilizer? A tidbit, a pap, a lollypop. Indians use fish; Chinese, nightsoil; agricultural chemists concoct tasty tonics of nitrogen and potash where's your progress?
The helpful one reluctantly pressed his thumb against the wry bottom of the can, aiming the twisted spout at odd parts of the mower. "I dunno," he commented. "I don't either," said Mrs Dinkman. "You Greener, Weener whatever your name is!" There was no possibility of evasion. "Yes, mam?" "You made this stuff grow; now you can cut it down." Uncouth guffaws from the watching idiots.
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