SARDINES UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2338, 30 September 1881, Page 4

SARDINES UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

“Look hero, my dear,” said Mr Spoopendyke, tossing over the laces and ribbons in his wife’s bureau drawer, “ what’s become of the can-opener ? I don’t see it anywhere.” “What do you want of it?” asked Mrs Spoopondyke, fluttering up to protect her trinkets, and trying to gain a little time. “ I want to open some sardines with it,” retorted Mr Spoopendyko, abandoning the drawer and hunting through the work basket. “ Think I wonted to comb my hair with it ? Imagine I wanted to write a letter with it ? Well, I don’t. I want some sardines. What have you done with it ? ” “ You might take your big knife,” recommended Mrs Spoopendyko, “ The largo blade is just the thing for that.” Mr Spoopendyke seized the knife and bored away at one corner of the box, while his wife looked on with considerable distress. “ Hadn’t you better put a paper under the box ? You’ll get the oil all over the tablecloth,” suggested Mrs Spoopendyke. “ No, I wont either,” said Mr Spoopendyke, as the knife plunged throuih and the oil spattered. “ Serve you right if I did,” he continued, ploughing away at the tin, while the grooso flew in all directions. “ It would teach you to put the can-opener where you can find it. What kind of housekeeping do you call this, anyhow ?”ho yelled, as the blade slipped out and closed up on his fingers. “Did you hurt yourself, dear?” asked Mrs Spoopendyko anxiously. “No, I didn’t hurt myself,’’grinned Mr Spoopendyke. “ The knife struck the bone, or I would have been dead with agony an hour ago. Give me some other?” he howled. “ Fetch me some chloroform. S’pose I’m going to saw at this box any more without an anrmthetic ? Got an idea I’m going to chip off a couple dozen fingers without something to deaden the pain? Where’s the laughing gas ? Give me some laughing gas while I extract these measly old fish,” and Mr Spoopendyko pranced around the room, and then jabbed the knife into the box again, and ripped away as though he was run by steam. “No use to hide away from me,” he yelled, hacking at the box with all his might. “ I know you’re in there, and there can’t be any sardine that ever was built get away from me. Come out, I tell ye !” and he seized a fioh by the tail and slung him across the room. “ You’re transacting business with Spoopendyko now !” and ho clawed out a handful of mashed sardines and slapped them down on a plate. “ Wont you spoil ’em, dear ?” asked Mrs Spoopondyke, dodging the flying heads and tails. “ They wont be very good if you open ’em that way.” “Oh, wont they?” howled Mr Spoopendyke, “If you don’t like ’em that way, what’d you ask ’em for ? Maybe you want me to take ’em out in a baby carriage. P’raps you have got an idea I ought to climb under ’em and lift them out. Maybe yon want me to get into that box «ith a boat and take ’em out with a sieve. Well, I wont, I tell ye. Give me the tongs, I want that fish at the bottom. Whore’s the tongs ? Gone to get married to the can-opener, haven’t they ?” and Mr Spoopendyke grabbed at another fish and fired him into the grate. “Be patient, my dear,” said Mrs Spoopendyko, soothingly. “ Make the opening a little wider, and they’ll come out.” “ Ain’t I patient ?” shouted Mr Spoopendyke “ P’raps you want mo to sing to ’em, • I wish I was an angel and with the— ’ Hang the fish ! Come out of that,” and with a wrench Mr Spoopendyko hauled off the top aud disclosed the mangled remains of his enemies. “ Now give me a lemon ; quick now.” “ Upon my word, my dear, I don’t believe there’e a lemon in the house." stammered Mrs Spoopendyke. “ I had one ” “ Oh, you had one!” proclaimed Mr Spoopondyke, “ only you’re just out. If you had been brought up right, you’d only need an awning and a family on the top floor to be a grocery shop ! S’poae I’m going to eat those sardines raw ? Think I’m going to swallow these fish alive? Gimme something to put on ’em, will ye?" “What would you like, my dear ?” queried Mrs Spoopeadyte. “ Ink, curse it! Fetch me some measly ink! Got any nails? Can’t ye find some laudanum somewhere ? ” and Mr Spoopendyke projected himself into the closet and pranced out with a bottle of arnica. “There,” ho howled, as he dashed the contents over the sardines. “ there’s your fish all ready for you, and the next time you want me to open the things you have a lemon, will ye ? Find a can-opener, won’t yo?” and Mr Spoopendyke flopped into hie easy chair and picked up the paper. “Don’t yeu want some of the fish ?” asked Mrs Spoopendyke, after a long paueo. “No, I don’t,” growled MrSpoopendye. “But this is a fresh box,” said Mrs Spoopondyke, displaying the sardines in neat layers. “How’d you get it open?” demanded Mr Spoopendyke. “ With the can-opener,” replied his wife. “ I found it in your toolbox, where you put it to sharpen it.” “ Maybe I put the lomon in there to sharpen that, too,” grunted Mr Spoopendyke, pegging away at the box and looking up with his mouth full, but recognising the taste of vinegar, he made some remarks about some people only needing a handle and a cork to be a Fortunatus jug, and having finished the lot, he demanded why his wife hadn’t asked for ’em if she wanted some, and went to bed with some incoherent observation* on the absurdity of folks sitting around like martyrs with flab within reach,—“Brooklyn Eagle.”