W. C. Fields : his follies and fortunes (1949)

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in the stable, then, if he caught the boy bruising lemons, he would prance out and give him a hiding. A crisis was reached not long after Fields' eleventh birthday. He had left a small shovel lying in the front yard, and Dukinfield stepped on it. The handle flew up and banged him on the shin. Unfortunately, the father had barked the same shin earlier that day on a hubcap of the vegetable cart. He hopped around on one leg awhile, cursing, then, seeing Fields studying him in a detached sort of way, he picked up the shovel and rattled it off the boy's head. During the next few days Fields devoted himself to getting even. He said afterward that he rejected several plans certain to arouse the interest of the coroner and settled on a simple but effective reprisal. Holding a large wooden box poised aloft, he hid in the stable. His father came in, looking for trouble. Fields crowned him. Then he walked off down the road and never returned. n