Volume 2 — Questions and Answers

Dear Captain Billy—I am writing a scenario on army life. Could you suggest an appropriate title?—Amy Tour.

How about: “Rumors From the Seventh Pew.” All soldiers will appreciate it, I am sure, and especially the Pugetites from Seattle who live on the Sound.

* * *

Dear Captain Bill—A friend and myself have an argument and we wish you to settle it. Where hangs the sign: “Don’t leave your seat until the machinery stops running”?—Sultan of Kokomo.

Well, your sultanic majesty, the only place I recall having seen such a sign was on a merry-go-round, but it might also have appeared on our Robbinsdale trolley.

* * *

Dear Captain Billy—How can I become adept in the shimmy dance?—Flora Daw.

Walk fast; stop quick. Continue this motion.

* * *

Dear Captain Billy—Why do girls roll their stockings?—Noah Count.

Because they are afraid the teddy bears will chew the tops off of them.

* * *

Dear Uncle Billy—While sitting in front of a bath house at Hot Springs I fell asleep and soon found myself swinging in a hammock in a shaded nook of the dells of Wisconsin. Nearby sat a young lady magnificently gowned in a low neck and short skirt creation, with her feet on a sugar barrel reading to me from the Whiz Bang. In the distance came a short, fat man carrying two bottles of Hamm’s Export just off the ice. I was about to reach for a bottle when the heavy hand of Friend Mac touched me on the shoulder and awakened me. What I want to know is, what should I do to Mac for shaking me out of my dream before the climax.—Ham Spear.

Your story reminds me of some of my dreams in the Islands, when someone would always awaken me before the Colonel had time to hand me the discharge papers I was dreaming about. I would suggest you pour hot water on Mac next time he slumbers. He will then dream of entering the gates of hell.

* * *

Dear Skipper—I’m in love with a fat girl and she insists on sitting on my lap. Advice, please.—Kennett B. Goode.

Suggest that you place an ironing board over the arms of a chair. You could then hold her on your lap indefinitely and not get tired.

* * *

Dear Skipper Bill—Can you give me the name of a rare and almost extinct bird?—School Johnnie.

Old Crow.

* * *

Dear Skipper Billy—Give me a definition of falling in love which “in the spring turns a young man’s fancy,” etc.—Bob Wire.

Love is a feeling that you feel when you feel you’re going to feel a feeling that you’ve never felt before.

* * *

Dear Captain Billy—What is a Whiffem Poof?—Geo. Logical.

A Whiffem Poof, Geo., is a small fish that swims backward to keep the water from running into its eyes.

* * *

Dear Captain Billy—Can you give us a new phrase or word to describe the bedroom movies in which ladies are shown in the filmy robes du nuit, etc.—Screen Hound.

How would it be to call such pictures “Filmies”?

* * *

Dear Captain Billy—Would you recommend walking on an empty stomach as an aid to digestion?—Horace D’Oevers.

Walking on an empty stomach is excellent for indigestion, but be careful who you walk on.

* * *

Dear Skipper Billy—What is your idea of the height of imagination?—Ross Field.

To sit on a cake of ice and have someone throw limburger cheese in your face and imagine you are having a sleigh ride.

* * *

Dear Bill—Who was the best known enlisted man in the United States army?—Count Lehman.

Joe Latrine.

* * *

Dear W. B. Bill—I’m a bashful young man. How can I have a girl?—Busch Wah.

Wiser men than I have puzzled over this question and never found a solution. However, I don’t see why you want one.

* * *

Dear Captain Bill—Who is it that attracts all the town girls to the depot, and who always suspects the playing card manufacturers, and who causes the farmer to load his shotgun?—Watt Hoe.

Traveling Men, of course, God bless ’em.

* * *

Dear Skipper—What is considered the safest place on a battleship?—Otto Know.

I believe if I were a sailor during an engagement that I might find it necessary to seek the seclusiveness of “the head.”

* * *

Dear Captain Bill—Will you please tell me what is a Nymph?—Farmer Boy.

A Nymph, my boy, is a hasher with a good form who gets a job in a bathing girls’ show exhibiting her Prowess.

* * *

Democratic as he is, even the bootlegger treats his friend, the cop, from the bottle reserved “For Officers Only.”