Telegrams of the Soul

Human Relations

The two well-established artists sat together in a little after-hours café engaged in a heated discussion on the innate brutality evident in the “I-ism” of one’s fellow man! They stressed the term “I-ism” as if thereby precisely to emphasize the fact that: The rest of the world says “Egotism!”

Whereupon the young lady seated nearby said: “What the hell are you two talking about, huh?! What’s all this crap supposed to mean? Listen up, just this morning my madame herself served me with a signed writ of seizure. That don’t exist, does it, a personally signed and delivered writ of seizure?! It don’t exist! Right?”

“Pardon, Miss, but we’re no lawyers—.”

“Who needs lawyers?! Listen up! Anybody with a little book learning has got to know that there ain’t never been no such thing as a personally signed and delivered writ of seizure! Can you imagine such a thing!? The whole world would be doing nothing else but serving each other writs! Just use your brains a little, fellahs, will ya?!”

The artists discussed the fact that the puffed-up Mr. B. is so full of himself that he hears and sees nothing, like a woodcock in a fir tree. Can’t always keep claiming to be blinded by sexual frenzy like the wild fowl!

The girl started whimpering about how she’d been personally served with a signed writ of seizure by her madame. She once again explained to the gentlemen that there ain’t never been no such thing as a personally signed and delivered writ of seizure.

So the gentlemen agreed that they’d never heard of such a thing and started kissing up to the girl, presuming her to be somewhat consoled now that they’d concurred.

But the young lady wasn’t quite yet up to it. So the gentlemen told her that she’d missed her calling in life; that she was a weepy whore. If she went on like that she’d never lure a lousy dog.

The girl just stared at the end of her nose: “There ain’t no such thing as a personally signed and delivered writ of seizure!”

Now the artists took a somewhat more participatory stance and said: “How much do you actually owe her? How much can it possibly be?!”

The girl replied hopefully: “35 Guldens!”

The artists: “What?! For such a pittance?! And that’s all she’s blubbering about! Well for crying out loud, you can easily pay it off in installments!”

The girl felt: “Deadbeats, go hang yourselves!”

The artists went ahead and figured out that in weekly installments of only five Guldens she could pay it all off in less than seven weeks. Every penny of it. Or else she could pay it off in monthly installments of 20 Guldens. Or, better yet, daily, a Gulden a day. They agreed that a Gulden a day would be best.

The girl sat there and kept on crying.

The artists got fed up and left.

Outside they said: “What’s the use of trying to help a body? You go figure your head off for a stranger! And what do you get for your troubles?! Ingratitude!”

Now the down at the heels waiter walked up to the girl: “Listen, honey, what do you say the two of us head to the courthouse together at 8 A.M.!? There ain’t never been no such thing as a personally signed and delivered writ of seizure! This country’s got laws!”

So they went home together to hammer out the details. There were another three hours left till 8 A.M., which time they put to good use.

At 8 A.M., her prince in shining armor said to her: “Know what, Mitzi, it’s better not to start any trouble with a court of law. I’m sure your madame ain’t that mean-hearted. Know what, Mitzi, better pay it back in installments!”

By this time, the girl was all wiped out, and muttered softly as she dozed off: “There ain’t never been no such thing as a personally signed and delivered writ of seizure. Ain’t that right, Bud?!”