Swing (Jan-Dec 1945)

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46 '9 November, 1943 "Pop, since when has ain't got a substitute or two? I never heard anyone mention that before." It's a lucky thing Pop's on his lunch hour. He's eating a sandwich with one hand, holding a bottle of Rheingold, vise-like, in the other, and trying to read proof with his glimmers. Between chews and a guzzle. Pop says, "Look, son, it's always been that way. What I mean to say is that you could substitute aren't or isn't for 'ain't'." "Oh, boy!" I says to myself. "Here's where I got Pop where I want him." "Pop," I says, smiling as my eyes come back to life and glitter again without a blemish. "Pop, do you mean to say that if I can't get Betty Grable that Lana Turner or Ann Sothern would do as substitutes?" For a minute I thought the fire in Pop's eyes would burn me up alive, but I just sat there nonchalantly, as though nothing had happened. "Who said anything about Betty Grable, Lana Turner or ... or ... ?" I'm quick on the trigger and I volunteers, "Ann Sothern." "Well, who," he says, "said anything about them?" "I," I answers truthfully confess' ing a latent desire to have one of them sit on my lap and soothe my outdoor face with their most endearing charms. Seventh Heaven? Boy, I'll go you one better. It'd be Eleventh Heaven. Disgusted with his offspring. Pop says, "Let's forget actresses and get back to what you came Iiere for! After all, I'm a busy man and this is a newspaper office and . . ." "Look, Pop," I says in rebuttal. "Let's get down to simplicities: Ain't I got the makin's of a producer?" The diamonds are romantic again. Smiles of happiness are a dime a dozen and if you hold out long enough you can get a do2en free. Well, this romance lasts about one full minute while Pop is gulping and guzzling, and then he lets out a trickle and spouts: "Haven't I told you there's no such word as 'ain't'? How many times do I have to tell you before the ship of knowledge sinks in?" "Say, Pop," I says, "that's fine quoting. Who'd you steal that from?" Romance above the nose is on the rocks again. I can smell it, so help me! "Now," Pop growls during recess of his molar activity. "What gives you the idea I have to steal every quotation I utter? Don't you think I'm capable of telegraphing new phrases, idioms, axioms and antinoms?" This almost threw me for a somersault with a fancy jacknife for good measure. i "Pops," I says, getting familiar j in no uncertain terms. "I ain't never 1 heard you use such fancy language