On the Avenue Page #2

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door on account of he's changing costumes.

- Changing...

- Come in.

Lady must know Mr Blake.

I'll leave them alone.

Oh, how do you do?

That's what I think of you.

Now, wait a minute. Wait a minute.

As much as I'd like to spar,

I'm a little short of time.

- Well, I'm not short of words!

- Sorry, I've got to change my trousers.

You're ignorant and stupid!

Nevertheless, I still

have to change my trousers.

You not only made my father look ridiculous,

but you made a fantastic fool out of me!

I'm sorry if the sketch offended you.

No harm was intended.

- How dare you make fun of my private life!

- You have none. You're like a goldfish.

- What?!

- Everybody knows about Mimi Caraway.

Does that give you permission

to make fun of me? My life's my own!

You're a public character,

like Mae West or Max Schmeling.

- When you powder your nose it's news.

- I'm not interested in your opinions.

I order you to take the sketch out of

the show. Immediately! Do you hear me?

- Listen, I'm only an actor.

- A what?

- I make faces for a living.

- And very bad ones, if you ask me.

Something tells me you didn't like

the performance. I'll get your money back.

You impudent upstart!

I'll tell you what you are. You're the poorest

sport I ever had the misfortune to bump into.

I haven't begun to say what I think of you.

For two cents, I'd slap your face.

You've already done that.

- Goodbye, Miss Caraway. Such a lovely girl.

- Hey! Put me down! Put me down!

Joe! I got something for you.

Put this back in its penthouse.

You've got to be quiet.

There's a show going on out there.

- I'm going to stop your show.

- Please be quiet. The audience will hear you.

I will not! If you don't take that

sketch off, I'll yell my head off.

- Quiet!

- Don't you dare tell me to be quiet!

- Out in the alley, Joe.

- Will you? Agh! Put me down!

Put me down! I'll have you all

arrested for this, you beasts!

Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!

If I ever see that gal again,

show me the nearest exit.

- She had a nerve slapping your face.

- She let me have it.

I don't like the idea

of any woman hitting you.

Except me.

Excuse me.

Get down! Get down, I tell you! Get down!

Go on out of here.

Get down! Down!

Get down! Down, I tell you! Get down!

All right! Down! Down!

- Morning, Father.

- Good morning, Miss Caraway.

I love to see you

having a good romp with the dogs.

How often must I ask you

to get rid of those elephants?

- How's your indigestion?

- All right.

Well, here's something in Winchell's column

that ought to cheer you up.

"Mimi Caraway was so burned up

over Blake's burlesque of horror

on her father and Frederick Sims,

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