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12
THE UNIVERSAL WEEKLY
Nothin' To Do 'till Tomorrow
By Billie Ritchie
1
— HI hum — it's a gay life this makin' comik pictures.
— All I have to do is get up every morning at daybreak, smear me face over with grease paint an' pile on scarecrow scen'ry.
— Then the director calls me to get busy with the brick throwin' stuff. — Hi hum — it's a great life.
Little Busy Bee, Me, an' they call this the holiday season, to do the novelties stunts for ev'ry one, two and threereel comik feature in the shop.
Say, did you ever report fer work in the mornin' an' after you punched the time detective ten minutes late you meet the boss an' he says, appealin' like, "Out de window yer mus' go", an' he ain't yoshin'? He's pullin' scenario stuff on you an' it goes. So I'm falling out the window with a cuple of back turns, hitting the poor rock stuffed with feathers, and I'm up and smilin', for it's a dull mornin' when I won't take my life in me bleeding hands for art. An', say, I'm just brushin' up from one fall and they're at me again.
"To the citadel", some guy is shouting; "on to de rescue; save the bee-autiful maiden and the city is yours, and before I know it I'm climbing up to the top of a frowning clifl and the villain, thinking I'm the fall guy of the studio outfit, gives me a shove and I take a holy roller for fair. I wouldn't mind it, but some scenario speeler says "Billie" can do it, and I'm hardly up from being shoved off the cliff when I'm loaded in a cannon and shot into the atmosphere, and say, there's some breeze blowing while I'm travelling, but I light safe. And the scenario guy is laughing and says, "Great comedy", and me adding to my carcass me 89th consecutive bruise. Oh, I'm busy alright.
Say, says I, it's time fer cheese an' fer biscuits, because I hear bells ringing, but the asnwer is diff'rent, and Billie is being pursued by a mob. I ain't on to the plot of the piece at all, at all. only they keep shoving and I've got to run to keep from being walked on. I just takes a double twister, but lands on my back and, howling pretzels, it feels like granite when I hit. My back is a reg'lar black and blue trust, but they all say, "Great comedy, Bill", and the speech coming from the boss just eases the jolt a trifle. Say, ain't it the feed hour, I murmurs soft like, feeling my back. Not yet, growls the boss.
Monday, leaping the precy'pis; Tuesday, climbing the crags; Wens'day, throw'd off de train; Toisday, ducking air ships; Friday, hop-scotchin' the mine sewed rivers; Sat'day, diving for my pay, an' bein' chased by collectors, and then — oh, joy — nothing to do till tomorrow.
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P . S . — I am so good that the Universal has issued special slides, photos, posters, etc., on me, and you can get a lot swell advertising dope from your Exchange. Get it.
Advertise me big. I will draw crowds whenever advertised. Write your Exchange and if they can't supply you, write or wire The Universal Film Manufacturing Company, 1600 Broadway, New York, for this dope.