And when the Cincinnati Anti-Fluoride Society met to toast their victory in pure spring water, all their teeth dropped out on the spot.
“And I say unto you, brothers and sisters of the AntiFluoride movement, we have this day struck such a blow for purity as will never call a retreat. . . . Out, I say, with the filthy foreign fluorides! We will sweep this fair land sweet and clean as a young boy’s tensed flank.. . . I will now lead you in our theme song The Old Oaken Bucket ”
A well head is lighted by fluorescent lights that play over it in hideous juke-box colors. The Anti-Fluorides file past the well singing as each dips up a drink from the oaken bucket. . . .
“The old oaken bucket, the gold oaken bucket The glublthulunnubbeth . .. ”
A. J. had tampered with the water, inserting a South
American vine that turns the gums to mush. ( I hear about this vine from an old German prospector who is dying of uremia in Pasto, Columbia. Supposed to grow in the Putumayo area. Never located any.
Didn’t try very hard. . . . The same citizen tells me about a bug like a big grasshopper known as the Xiucutil: “Such a powerful aphrodisiac if one flies on you and you can’t get a woman right away you will die. I have seen the Indians running around pulling themselves off from the contact with this animal.” Unfortunately I never score for a Xiucutil. .. .)
On opening night of the New York Metropolitan, A. J., protected by bug repellent, released a swarm of Xiucutils.
Mrs. Vanderbligh swatting at a Xiucutil: “Oh! . . .