Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1883-08-18
spoopEaDYKE's SORE POOR.

MY DEAR" whimpered Mr.. Spoopen-
dyke, hobbling into his wife's room and
throwing himself into chair with deso-
late expression Of despair on his visage.
My dear, there is something the matter
with my foot, and I can't make out what
the trouble is.
81 know" exclaimed Mira. Spoopen-
dyke, lowering over him with affectionate
interest and solicitude; 81 think it's
rheumatism.
"No, it amt rheumatism, either"
growled Mr.. Spoopendyke. at is some-
thing worse than rheumatism, and if It goes
to my heart it will kill me-"
May be it's a stone bruise," suggested
Mrs. Spoopen6yke, not realizing that a
great deal of the sentiment and most of the
danger are taken out of malady when It
is definitely ascertsined what the malady
is. "All you want is some liniment and
you will be all right by tomorrow.
That's all you know about it, grunted
Mr.. Spoopendyke, who wss not to be put
off with so small disaster as a stone
bruise. 81 tell you that have got some
trouble with my foot that threatens my
life, and you stand around there like a
cork in bottle, and talk about it as though
| hadn't got one leg into my coffin as far
as the hip. Here am kicking at Deaths
door with game foot, and all the interest
you have in the matter is to shoot off a
vast amount of intelligence about stone
bruises. ! tell We, it's something that amt
to be triflsd with. Now, what're you go.
ing to do about it ?"
Are you sure it isn't corn ?" hazarded
Mrs. Spoopendyke, timidy. Sometimes
corns hurt worse than anything else but
1 never heard of people dying of them"
"No, it isn't a corn?" h0wled Mr.. Spoop.
endyke, nursing his foot and glaring at mis-
wife with mingled expression of rage and
pain. "What dye think this foot is, any.
way; an agricultural district? When did
you ever hear Of corn that reached from
the heel to the knee? Which of your
friends ever had corn that hurt clear to
the ear?" and Mr.. Spoopendyke touched
his foot carefully to the floor and eyed his
wife narrowly to see if she noticed the ex-
preston of agony on his face.
"If it acts that way IL must be bum
ion !" exclaimed Mrs. Spoopendyke tri-
umphantly. "All you have got to do is to
takeyour boot off and put your slippers on"
"That's it," yelled Mr.. Spoopendyke,
hauling off his shoe and firing it across the
room. "When man is dying of inham-
matory rheumatism, it's only bunion !
You've got it ! A pain that starts at the
toe, runs to the back of the neck and ties
in hard knot over the spine is bunion
Snow me the bunion /" he continued, stick
ing his leg ont straight and pointing his
finger at the offending foot. Take this
digit in your liIy-white hand and place it
tenderly on the dod gasted bunion before
| die and forget what killed me Pick it
out of the surrounding anatomy !" he
yelled, wriggling his foot and bouncing up
and down in the chair in a delirium of
rage. "Pluck the bunion from its mountain
fastness on the hoof Of Spoopendyke and
hold il up TO the gaze of the same p
"Does it hut" commenced Mrs.
Spoopendyke, soothingly.
"Hurt - roared Mr.. Spoopendyke,
springing from his chair and dancing
around the room like flea. "Of course,
it don't. 1t tickles Hurt It's pic
mic Say, my DEAR" and his voice was
low and tender. "Say, my dear, instead
of going in the country this summer well
lay in stock of bunions and wear 'em
around for our health and recreation !
Hurt - he shrieked, breaking out in
new spot, "Hurt It feels like band
of music That's what it is, a bunion /!
1t took you to hit it When get time
to fit you up with full beard and bot
tie of whisky I'm going to start dispen-
sary with you II gould only improve
your miad until you reached the standard
of intelligence of moderate donkey you'd
only need a stolen corpse and a bad smell
to be a first.class medical college !"
"Ssy, DEAR" observed Mrs. Spoopen-
dyke, who had been carefully exploring
her husbands boot; "Say, dear, think
l have found out what the trouble is. It
isn't bunion after all. Here's peg stick
ing out here a quarter of an inch. If you
viii have that taken ont don't believe
You will suffer any more.
Mr.. Spoopendyke jammed his hat over
his eyes, showed his feet into his slippers,
grabbed the obnoxious boot and started
for the door, with whitening look at his
wife as he went out.
81 don't care, murmured Mrs. Spoopen.
dyke, as the front door slammed vindic-
lively 81 don't care. If he has it taken
out he has to admit that l was right and
if he doesn't it will hurt him till he dies.
don't know which will be the worse for him,
but he will have to do one or the other"
And with this crowning triumph still in
her mind, Mrs. Spoopendyke began to
scare the flies out of the room with sheet,
wondering why fly who has been half
smaHhed against one window frame will in
sss on coming in at the other window to
be smashed over again. n.-[Brooklyn Eagle.
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