Westwood High School - Chipmunk Yearbook (Westwood, CA)

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THE CHIPMUNK for 1922 Page 29 BILLY'S MISFORTUNES “How in the world did this great tear come in your trousers? demanded Billy’s mother. Mrs. Smith was a small, quiet, middle-aged woman whose main care was little Billy. Her usually kind face assumed a very severe look as she examined the tear. “I do wish you would try to be a better boy. Billy. she said. I do so want to be proud of you.” Billy, a small lad of nine years, was the very imp of mischievousness. His little curly head was set off by a pair of innocent looking blue eyes. “Yes mom. I don’t know how—I mean. I meant to. You see Jimmy is always getting us boys in trouble and can’t get us out. I guess he is the troublest boy that is. Billy stopped to think from lack of ideas. “I—er—we tried to get in the chicken house an—an—er—Jimmy came along and wanted us to go fishing and I fell on a rock an—an—I “Billy Smith.’’ said his mother, “tell me how' you tore your trousers, and don’t fib. “Yessum, said Billy. You see it was this way. Wc went down to Mammy Jones’ and borrowed a watermelon—an—an—she didn t like it. so we decided to come home—an’—an’ on the wray I got caught on a nail in a fence—an’ I was in a hurry to come home, ’cause I knew you wanted me. I had Jimmy cut me loose, an’—an’—“ “That will do. Billy. As punishment you may go to bed for the rest of the day. “Ah. mom. have a heart, I didn’t mean it. Aw shucks. I w’on’t do it again. Please. On his way to bed Billy said: “Aw. grown folks are funny. They don’t understand nothing. I wish I hadn’t had the pants cut. though. L. M. B.. '22. THE ACTIVE SCHOOLMASTER Jimmy Noun and Jimmy Pro-Noun were the twin sons of Mr. Proper Noun and Mrs. Abstract Noun. Mr. Verb taught the little red school house where Jimmie and Jimmie Pro went to school. Jack Adjective was Jimmy’s first cousin and was always telling things about the Noun family. Ah. yes! and there was little Willie Adverb, who was always talking about Jack Adjective, and the other little Adverbs. It was in the dead of winter and snow covered the ground. Mr. V erb was walking home in his brisk manner when Jack and Jimmy, who had been skating, saw him. Now Jack was a very good little boy and Jimmy, I am sorry to say, was very bad. He was just as bad as Jack was good. Jimmy made a nice big water-soaker (snowball) and threw it and hit Mr. Verb on the nose. Mr. Verb was active, but when Jimmy hit him he became more active than ever. He ran toward Jimmy, who dodged behind a tree just as Jimmy Pro went skating by. Mr. Verb, thinking it was Jimmy, ran after him on the slippery ice. After more falls than Jimmy would even have wished him. Mr. Verb took a short cut and caught up with Jimmy Pro. But when he looked at the boy’s face, he saw he had the wrong twin. Just then the village preacher, Mr. Preposition, came up with Jimmy saying. “What shall I do with the little rascal? Give him here!” cxclaimes Mr. Verb. I want to give him an active part in this. But just as Mr. Verb was ready to snatch Jimmy by the collar. Mr. Conjunction came along and took Jimmy home to his mother, who gave him a good warming up. But Jimmy never did that trick again. P. P. ’26. CROOKED CROOKS At eleven o’clock on a certain night—if you had been there you could have seen it. too—a small, wiry man carrying a handbag, quietly opened a window at one of the fashionable residences in San Francisco, and went in. No small circle of light gave him away to the policeman on the corner. I he house was as dark and lonely as before. At eleven thirty, a tough looking character forced his way through the servants’ entrance at this same residence. He. too. carried a small handbag.

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Page 28 THE CHIPMUNK for 1922 MOANS, groans. “Oh. Gee! Do we have to? and so forth, filled the room. What was happening? You've all been through the same experience so you should know. Mrs. Eby was announcing that the Annual was to be put out and that a story was wanted from everyone. But. despite all the protests, the stories were handed in. in flocks. The editor was so busy looking over themes for a few days that all one could see was a head sticking above a pile of papers. You know pupils like to be persuaded a lot. and to put in a lot of protests, but when it comes to a final show down, they arc usually there with the goods. So it proved with W. H. S. Poor judges! After weeding out enough best stories for five annuals they had to weed out again and again until they themselves looked weedy.” If you don’t believe it. go ahead and read them. And. believe me. you won't have to tell a fib when you say. “Some stories! E. C. 74.

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Page 30 THE CHIPMUNK for 1922 Tlirough the kitchen, up the stairs and into the parlor he went, using his flashlight when he was not certain. Now. this particular man was one of San Francisco’s most noted burglars, but only his friends knew that. He had been making plans for this little act for some time. He knew the family had gone to a fancy dress ball, and the servants had taken the evening off. so he made this his night to call. With his flashlight and his dog-like scent, he found the safe in the wall. With steady fingers and lightning speed he discovered the combination. Then, with a final twist, he had the fortune before him. After carefully putting everything in his handbag he shut the safe. With his handkerchief he polished the nickel on the door, so that no telltale finger prints would leave a clue to his identity. Then with a chuckle of triumph he made for the kitchen. When he reached the door leading into the kitchen he heard, or thought he heard, a woman’s scream issue from somewhere in the building. He stopped turned off his flashlight and pulled out his gun. ready for any emergency. After waiting for two or three minutes, he made up his mind that his nerves had gone back on him. so. cursing to himself, he stepped into the kitchen and made for the outer door. Half way across the room he stood rooted to the floor: he heard another scream, louder and closer than before: then everything seemed to go wrong. He thought he saw something white in the pantry: there was a loud giggle and shuffle of feet, and then a baby shrieked and mingled its crying with a dog’s howling. His knees shook, the room swam before his eyes, some one laughed, and a voice said. “Drop that bag and run. So he did, as fast as his shaking legs would go. out the back door and down the street, not once looking back. “Ha! Ha!” said some one in the kitchen. I fooled Red that time. Good thing he does not know I learned to throw my voice when I made my famous trip to New York. I am no safe cracker, but the loot is mine, as sure as my name is Shorty.” At ten minutes to twelve—if you had been there—you would have seen the same window slowly go up and the little man. carrying the handbag quietly emerge and then disappear in the shrubbery—headed for Chinatow-n and home. AN ALGEBRAIC TRACEDY “Goodness, gracious sakes alive! What’s this? You don't mean to say that infernal boy has deliberately put me in the waste basket? It was an algebra book that was speaking, one that apparently was treated very roughly. “Of course, silly, said a very sarcastic scrap of paper. “Are you too good for us?” The idea! Why I should say so! I am a very well educated species! Well, here comes Miss Cornell, the Algebra teacher. I hope she sees me. Ah! this is better: I am among some books of my type. I like this library very much. Now I wonder who my neighbors are? 1 hope they are not too aristocratic. Aristocratic books are so snobbish.” But this poor little algebra was doomed to hard luck for on one side was Vol. X. of the Encyclopaedia Britannica and on the other side was “Little Bo Peep. The former did not see her. and she evidently did not see the latter. It was a very miserable night, but in the morning when she was not yet fully awake she was snatched from her place and banged down on someone s desk just as if she had done something. Oh, how I pity me. she sighed after she was pounded thoroughly by someone. “I really wish that boy was dead. l here is no other way out of my troubles. I wish some senior would take me. Pooh!” grunted some text book next to her, “a Senior wouldn't have such a childish thing as an Algebra I. “Oh! she sighed. “I never thought of that. Well then. I wish a girl would take me, a Freshman girl—here come two now. “Oh. Nancy! cried one of the girls, “look at this perfectly horrible book! I never saw such a dirty one in my life. Yes. I know. she answered. It belongs to Bob Wells. He treats it terribly, as if it knew the difference. I wouldn’t have it.” Why. where is it?” the other exclaimed. It’s gone; why I won- der-----?” But they passed on and were indifferent to one of the greatest tragedies of a lifetime, for in sore distress the algebra had flung itself from a two story window and perished. B. E.. 24. E. B.. ’25.