Calculations
A gentleman with long hair and an expression indicating heavenly stepped off the twelve-thirty train at the Grand Central Depot yesterday. He had a little bunch of temperance tracts in his hand, and he struck a strong scent and followed it up to a red-nosed individual who was leaning on a trunk near the baggage room.
“My friend,” said the long-haired man, “do you know that if you had placed the price of three drinks out at compound interest at the time of the building of Solomon’s temple, you would now have $47,998,645.22?”
“I do,” said the red-nosed man. “I am something of a calculator myself. I also figured out when the doctor insisted on painting my nose with to cure that boil, that the first lanternjawed, bone-, son-of-a-gun from the corner of County that made any remarks about it would have to jump seventeen feet in nine seconds or get kicked thirteen times below the belt. You have just four seconds left.”
The long-haired man made a brilliant retreat within his time, and bore down with his temperance tracts upon a suspicious-looking Houston man who was carrying home a bottle of water wrapped in a to his mother-in-law.