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

pressed, asked about some details of the fortuitous capture. He expressed particular interest in the assagai. In evading this issue, Fields launched a windy account of a knife fight he'd once had with a colored midget named Major Moe. "He was using a small knife, about an inch long," the hero related. "An inch long?" asked Skinner in a baffled voice. "I don't believe I've ever seen a knife that " "It wasn't so much a knife as it was a razor," said Fields, and rambled on to other exploits. Mr. Skinner broke in to give him the reward — "Spring in Lompoc" and "my heartiest handshake." When he mentioned the bank-dick job, Fields looked concerned and asked what the hours would be, roughly. "The bank opens at ten sharp," the president told him. "Well, that's all right," said Fields. "I think I can make that." He appeared in an ill-fitting uniform the next day and took up a stand in the lobby. In almost no time he demonstrated the wisdom of Skinner's appointment: he sneaked up on a small boy playing with a cap pistol, grabbed him by the neck, and shook him roughly. Fields' opportunity with the beefsteak mine came to him by chance. In one of the abruptest scene changes on record, he rushed in to his favorite lounge, The Black Pussy Cat Cafe and Snack Bar, and, badly agitated, said to the bartender, "Did I spend a twenty-dollar bill in here last night?" "Why, yes, you did, Mr. Souse." "Thank heaven," said Fields, mopping his brow. "I thought I'd lost it." He relaxed and ordered a "depth bomb," with some water on the side. He drank the potion and washed his fingers carefully; then he called for another round, including a fresh glass of water. "Never like to bathe in the same water twice," he confided to a neighbor, an emaciated ruin that Fields often had standing 329