Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1936-09-04
"Chirps''5
from the
Democrats Pen

Well, Sir, one day last week,
went to the shack where l live to get
a bite to eat at noon, and also to IN
duce Morpheus to pass me out forty
winks or so-which same winks are
very helpful to sojourner after ne
counts a certain milestone in his trav-
els through this vale Of woe.
managed to find something IN
the ice-box, and then I stretched my
weary bones on a couch to see If l
couldn't drift away into that very
realistic semblance of death-tlred
Natures sweet restorer, "Sleep."
And pretty soon I drifted. In the
vagaries of dream, was carried
back to the days when the Christian
Era was young. When the adherents
of the Christian faith suffered mar
tyrdom for their abiding trust in their
Master. When all sorts of tortures
were devised to make them recant
their religion, abjure their faith, and
worship the gods Of wood and stone.
The rack, the post, the lions, the
pointed spears, the axe, and many
other devilish death dealers, sent
thousands to horrible end.
And amongst many fortunes, there
was one that was slow but sure, and
before the spark Of life was extln-
guished in the victim, his mind wav-
cred and he often died raving man
lac. Bound, so the slightest motion
was impossible, there was placed
above his head a reservoir OF cold
water which was allowed to fall upon
the tortured's head in single drop
at a time. Drop; drop; drop; drop;
drop; drop; until the very bones Of
the skull would be punctured and
death come as a happy release.
AS 1 lay snoozing, this, I thought
was my fate. I could feel the drop (;
drop; drop; drop; drop Of that tiny
globule, and as it kept up its continual
hammering, it felt like a mammoth
sledge in the hands of Brobdig-
naggian. And as I struggled to free
myself, I thought I heard a weird
dirge coming from some unexplain-
able source; a mournful accompani-
ment to the silent passing out of my
body the immaterial essence of life
itself.
stood it as long as I could. With
a hollow, meaningless, groan, I gave
one last dispairing wrench and-woke
up.
Now, what do you suppose caused
all this nightmare? Some little imp
of Satan was outside nay window with
a paddle, ball, and rubber string.
Bip, bip, bip-that ball struck that
paddle; and bip, bip, bip, it struck
again. AS 1 lay dreaming, those
chips" were transformed into cold
water drips, pounding their way into
my brain. And, as listened, I heard
nearby the strains of some canned
music, coming from a machine which
swallowed five cent piece, and vom-
tied forth raucous, ragtime selection
from Satan himself or some composer
who should be we'll acquainted with
his Satanic Majesty. That was the
weird accompaniment I heard as my
life seemed ebbing away, pounded out
by that horrible bip, bip, bip, and Their
some more chips"
Well, Pm glad Pm alive, but
don't know what will happen if thai
"Bo-lo" madness doesn't wear itsel.
out pretty soon. It's taken hold o:
men, women, and children. went tt
Ocean City last week and actual!
people had substituted the "bo-lo'
for bath. That bip, bip, bip, sound
ed better than the roar of the surf
and the exercise was better than Leaf
frog on the beach, the medicine ball
or a real swim. You know, for som,
reason I can't explain, I got hold O.
one of those contraptions mysel
since my quiet little dream, and TIT
first time I dipped the thing, I KEEP
it going for 81 times. I am steadil!
increasing my average and-hov
many times can you hit the pill int