Then came the Chocolate Chins. They were all eating chocolates. And the chocolate was slippery and slickered all over their chins. Some of them spattered the ends of their noses with black chocolate. Some of them spread the brown chocolate nearly up to their ears. And then as they marched in the wedding procession of the Rag Doll and the Broom Handle, they stuck their chins in the air and looked around and stuck their chins in the air again.
Then came the Dirty Bibs. They wore plain white bibs, checker bibs, stripe bibs, blue bibs, and bibs with butterflies. But all the bibs were dirty. The plain white bibs were dirty, the checker bibs were dirty, the stripe bibs, the blue bibs, and the bibs with butterflies on them, they were all dirty. And so in the wedding procession of the Rag Doll and the Broom Handle, the Dirty Bibs marched with their dirty fingers on the bibs, and they looked around and laughed and looked around and laughed again.
Next came the Clean Ears. They were proud. How they got into the procession nobody knows. Their ears were all clean. They were clean not only on the outside, but they were clean on the inside. There was not a speck of dirt or dust or muss or mess on the inside nor the outside of their ears. And so in the wedding procession of the Rag Doll and the Broom Handle, they wiggled their ears and looked around and wiggled their ears again.
The Easy Ticklers were next in the procession. Their faces were shining. Their cheeks were like bars of new soap. Their ribs were strong, and the meat and the fat was thick on their ribs. It was plain to see they were saying, “Don’t tickle me because I tickle so easy.” And as they marched in the wedding procession of the Rag Doll and the Broom Handle, they tickled themselves and laughed and looked around and tickled themselves again.
The music was furnished mostly by the Musical Soup Eaters. They marched with big bowls of soup in front of them and big spoons for eating the soup. They whistled and chuzzled and snozzled the soup, and the noise they made could be heard far up at the head of the procession where the Spoon Lickers were marching. So they dipped their soup and looked around and dipped their soup again.
The Chubby Chubbs were next. They were roly-poly, round-faced smackers and snoozers. They were not fat babies—oh no, oh no—not fat but just chubby and easy to squeeze. They marched on their chubby legs and chubby feet and chubbed their chubbs and looked around and chubbed their chubbs again.
The last of all in the wedding procession of the Rag Doll and the Broom Handle were the Sleepyheads. They were smiling and glad to be marching, but their heads were slimpsing down and their smiles were half fading away and their eyes were half shut or a little more than half shut. They staggered just a little, as though their feet were not sure where they were going. They were the Sleepyheads, the last of all in the wedding procession of the Rag Doll and the Broom Handle, and the Sleepyheads, they never looked around at all.
It was a grand procession—don’t you think so?
HOW THE HAT ASHES SHOVEL HELPED SNOO FOO
IF YOU WANT to remember the names of all six of the Sniggers children, remember that the three biggest were named Blink, Swink, and Jink, but the three littlest ones were named Blunk, Swunk, and Junk. One day last January the three biggest had a fuss with the three littlest. The fuss was about a new hat for Snoo Foo, the snowman, about what kind of hat he should wear and how he should wear it. Blink, Swink, and Jink said, “He wants a crooked hat put on straight.” Blunk, Swunk, and Junk said, “He wants a straight hat put on crooked.” They fussed and fussed. Blink fussed with Blunk, Swink fussed with Swunk, and Jink fussed with Junk. The first ones to make up after the fuss were Jink and Junk. They decided the best way to settle the fuss. “Let’s put a crooked hat on crooked,” said Jink. “No, let’s put a straight hat on straight,” said Junk. Then they stood looking and looking into each other’s shiny, laughing eyes, and then both of them exploded to each other at the same time, “Let’s put on two hats, a crooked hat crooked and a straight hat straight.”
Well, they looked around for hats. But there were not any hats anywhere, that is, no hats big enough for a snowman with a big head like Snoo Foo. So they went in the house and asked their mother for the hat ashes shovel. Of course, in most any other house, the mother would be all worried if six children came tramping and clomping in, banging the door, and all six ejaculating to their mother at once, “Where is the hat ashes shovel?” But Missus Sniggers wasn’t worried at all. She rubbed her chin with her finger and said softly, “Oh lah de dah, oh lah de dah, where is that hat ashes shovel. Last week I had it when I was making a hat for Mister Sniggers; I remember I had that hat ashes shovel right up here over the clock, oh lah de dah, oh lah de dah. Go out and ring the front doorbell,” she said to Jink Sniggers. Jink ran away to the front door. And Missus Sniggers and the five children waited. Bling-bling the bell began ringing and—listen—the door of the clock opened, and the hat ashes shovel fell out. “Oh lah de dah, get out of here in a hurry,” said Missus Sniggers.
Well, the children ran out and dug a big pail of hat ashes with the hat ashes shovel. And they made two hats for Snoo Foo. One was a crooked hat. The other was a straight hat. And they put the crooked hat on crooked and the straight hat on straight. And there stood Snoo Foo in the front yard, and everybody who came by on the street, he would take off his hat to them, the crooked hat with his arm crooked and the straight hat with his arm straight. That was the end of the fuss between the Sniggers children, and it was Jink, the littlest one of the biggest, and Junk, the littlest one of the littlest, who settled the fuss by looking clean into each other’s eyes and laughing. If you ever get into a fuss, try this way of settling it.
THREE BOYS WITH JUGS OF MOLASSES AND SECRET AMBITIONS
IN THE VILLAGE of Liver-and-Onions, if one boy goes to the grocery for a jug of molasses, it is just like always. And if two boys go to the grocery for a jug of molasses together, it is just like always. But if three boys go to the grocery for a jug of molasses each and all together, then it is not like always at all, at all.
Eeta Peeca Pie grew up with wishes and wishes working inside him. And for every wish inside him, he had a freckle outside on his face. Whenever he smiled, the smile ran way back into the far side of his face and got lost in the wishing freckles.
Meeny Miney grew up with suspicions and suspicions working inside him. And after a while some of the suspicions got fastened on his eyes, and some of the suspicions got fastened on his mouth. So when he looked at other people straight in the face, they used to say, “Meeny Miney looks so sad-like, I wonder if he’ll get by.”
Miney Mo was different. He wasn’t sad-like and suspicious like Meeny Miney. Nor was he full of wishes inside and freckles outside like Eeta Peeca Pie. He was all mixed up inside with wishes and suspicions. So he had a few freckles and a few suspicions on his face. When he looked other people straight in the face, they used to say, “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
So here we have ’em, three boys growing up with wishes, suspicions, and mixed-up wishes and suspicions. They all looked different from each other. Each one, however, had a secret ambition. And all three had the same secret ambition.
An ambition is a little creeper that creeps and creeps in your heart night and day, singing a little song, “Come and find me, come and find me.”
The secret ambition in the heart of Eeta Peeca Pie, Meeny Miney, and Miney Mo was an ambition to go railroading, to ride on railroad cars night and day, year after year. The whistles and the wheels of railroad trains were music to them.
Whenever the secret ambition crept in their hearts and made them too sad, so sad it was hard to live and stand for it, they would all three put their hands on each other’s shoulders and sing the song of Joe. The chorus was like this:
Joe, Joe, broke his toe,
On the way to Mexico.
Came back, broke his back,
Sliding on the railroad track.
One fine summer morning all three mothers of all three boys gave each one a jug and said, “Go to the grocery and get a jug of mola
sses.” All three got to the grocery at the same time. And all three went out of the door of the grocery together, each with a jug of molasses together and each with his secret ambition creeping around in his heart, all three together.
Two blocks from the grocery they stopped under a slippery elm tree. Eeta Peeca Pie was stretching his neck, looking straight up into the slippery elm tree. He said it was always good for his freckles, and it helped his wishes to stand under a slippery elm and look up.
While he was looking up, his left hand let go the jug handle of the jug of molasses. And the jug went ka-flump, ka-flumpety-flump down on the stone sidewalk, cracked to pieces, and let the molasses go running out over the sidewalk.
If you have never seen it, let me tell you molasses running out of a broken jug, over a stone sidewalk under a slippery elm tree, looks peculiar and mysterious.
Eeta Peeca Pie stepped into the molasses with his bare feet. “It’s a lotta fun,” he said. “It tickles all over.” So Meeny Miney and Miney Mo both stepped into the molasses with their bare feet.
Then what happened just happened. One got littler. Another got littler. All three got littler.
“You look to me only big as a potato bug,” said Eeta Peeca Pie to Meeny Miney and Miney Mo. “It’s the same like you look to us,” said Meeny Miney and Miney Mo to Eeta Peeca Pie. And then because their secret ambition began to hurt them, they all stood with hands on each other’s shoulders and sang the Mexico Joe song.
Off the sidewalk they strolled, across a field of grass. They passed many houses of spiders and ants. In front of one house they saw Mrs. Spider over a tub washing clothes for Mr. Spider.
“Why do you wear that frying pan on your head?” they asked her.
“In this country all ladies wear the frying pan on their head when they want a hat.”
“But what if you want a hat when you are frying with the frying pan?” asked Eeta Peeca Pie.
“That never happens to any respectable lady in this country.”
“Don’t you never have no new style hats?” asked Meeny Miney.
“No, but we always have new style frying pans every spring and fall.”
Hidden in the roots of a pink grass clump, they came to a city of twisted-nose spiders. On the main street was a store with a show window full of pink parasols. They walked in and said to the clerk, “We want to buy parasols.”
“We don’t sell parasols here,” said the spider clerk.
“Well, lend us a parasol apiece,” said all three.
“Gladly, most gladly,” said the clerk.
“How do you do it?” asked Eeta.
“I don’t have to,” answered the spider clerk.
“How did it begin?”
“It never was otherwise.”
“Don’t you never get tired?”
“Every parasol is a joy.”
“What do you do when the parasols are gone?”
“They always come back. These are the famous twisted-nose parasols made from the famous pink grass. You will lose them all, all three. Then they will all walk back to me here in this store on main street. I cannot sell you something I know you will surely lose. Neither can I ask you to pay for something you will forget, somewhere, sometime, and when you forget it, it will walk back here to me again. Look—look!”
As he said “Look,” the door opened, and five pink parasols came waltzing in and waltzed up into the show window.
“They always come back. Everybody forgets. Take your parasols and go. You will forget them, and they will come back to me.”
“He looks like he had wishes inside him,” said Eeta Peeca Pie.
“He looks like he had suspicions,” said Meeny Miney.
“He looks like he was all mixed up, wishes and suspicions,” said Miney Mo.
And once more because they all felt lonesome and their secret ambitions were creeping and eating, they put their hands on their shoulders and sang the Mexico Joe song.
Then came happiness. They entered the Potato Bug Country. And they had luck first of all the first hour they were in the Potato Bug Country. They met a Potato Bug millionaire.
“How are you a millionaire?” they asked him.
“Because I got a million,” he answered.
“A million what?”
“A million fleems.”
“Who wants fleems?”
“You want fleems if you’re going to live here.”
“Why so?”
“Because fleems is our money. In the Potato Bug Country, if you got no fleems, you can’t buy nothing nor anything. But if you got a million fleems, you’re a Potato Bug millionaire.”
Then he surprised them.
“I like you because you got wishes and freckles,” he said to Eeta Peeca Pie, filling the pockets of Eeta with fleems.
“And I like you because you got suspicions and you’re sad-like,” he said to Meeny Miney, filling Meeny Miney’s pockets full of fleems.
“And I like you because you got some wishes and some suspicions and you look mixed up,” he said to Miney Mo, sticking handfuls and handfuls of fleems into the pockets of Miney Mo.
Wishes do come true. And suspicions do come true. Here they had been wishing all their lives, and had suspicions of what was going to happen, and now it all came true.
With their pockets filled with fleems they rode on all the railroad trains of the Potato Bug Country. They went to the railroad stations and bought tickets for the fast trains and the slow trains and even the trains that back up and run backward instead of where they start to go.
On the dining cars of the railroads of the Potato Bug Country they ate wonder ham from the famous Potato Bug pigs, eggs from the Potato Bug hens, et cetera.
It seemed to them they stayed a long while in the Potato Bug Country, years and years. Yes, the time came when all their fleems were gone. Then whenever they wanted a railroad ride or something to eat or a place to sleep, they put their hands on each other’s shoulders and sang the Mexico Joe song. In the Potato Bug Country they all said the Mexico Joe song was wonderful.
One morning while they were waiting to take an express train on the Early Ohio & Southwestern, they sat near the roots of a big potato plant under the big green leaves. And far above them they saw a dim black cloud, and they heard a shaking and a rustling and a spattering. They did not know it was a man of the Village of Liver-and-Onions. They did not know it was Mr. Sniggers putting paris green on the potato plants.
A big drop of paris green spattered down and fell onto the heads and shoulders of all three, Eeta Peeca Pie, Meeny Miney, and Miney Mo.
Then what happened just happened. They got bigger and bigger—one, two, three. And when they jumped up and ran out of the potato rows, Mr. Sniggers thought they were boys playing tricks.
When they got home to their mothers and told all about the jug of molasses breaking on the stone sidewalk under the slippery elm tree, their mothers said it was careless. The boys said it was lucky because it helped them get their secret ambitions.
And a secret ambition is a little creeper that creeps and creeps in your heart night and day, singing a little song, “Come and find me, come and find me.”
HOW BIMBO THE SNIP’S THUMB STUCK TO HIS NOSE WHEN THE WIND CHANGED
ONCE THERE WAS a boy in the Village of Liver-and-Onions whose name was Bimbo the Snip. He forgot nearly everything his father and mother told him to do and told him not to do.
One day his father, Bevo the Hike, came home and found Bimbo the Snip sitting on the front steps with his thumb fastened to his nose and the fingers wiggling.
“I can’t take my thumb away,” said Bimbo the Snip, “because when I put my thumb to my nose and wiggled my fingers at the iceman, the wind changed. And just like Mother always said, if the wind changed, the thumb would stay fastened to my nose and not come off.”
Bevo the Hike took hold of the thumb and pulled. He tied a clothesline rope around it and pulled. He pushed with his foot and heel against it. And all the time
the thumb stuck fast, and the fingers wiggled from the end of the nose of Bimbo the Snip.
Bevo the Hike sent for the ward alderman. The ward alderman sent for the barn boss of the street-cleaning department. The barn boss of the street-cleaning department sent for the head vaccinator of the vaccination bureau of the health department. The head vaccinator of the vaccination bureau of the health department sent for the big main fixer of the weather bureau, where they understand the tricks of the wind and the wind changing.
And the big main fixer of the weather bureau said, “If you hit the thumb six times with the end of a traffic policeman’s club, the thumb will come loose.”
So Bevo the Hike went to a traffic policeman standing on a street corner with a whistle telling the wagons and cars which way to go.
He told the traffic policeman, “The wind changed, and Bimbo the Snip’s thumb is fastened to his nose and will not come loose till it is hit six times with the end of a traffic policeman’s club.”
“I can’t help you unless you find a monkey to take my place standing on the corner telling the wagons and cars which way to go,” answered the traffic policeman.
So Bevo the Hike went to the zoo and said to a monkey, “The wind changed, and Bimbo the Snip’s thumb is fastened to his nose and will not come loose till it is hit with the end of a traffic policeman’s club six times, and the traffic policeman cannot leave his place on the street corner telling the traffic which way to go unless a monkey comes and takes his place.”
The monkey answered, “Get me a ladder with a whistle so I can climb up and whistle and tell the traffic which way to go.”
So Bevo the Hike hunted and hunted over the city and looked and looked and asked and asked till his feet and his eyes and his head and his heart were tired from top to bottom.
The Sandburg Treasury Page 5