Moe & Gertie: Senior Citizen Terminology

As written by Moe to his sister, Gertie

Dear Gertie,

Old Charlie went on a toot last week; he got hisself thrown in the hoosegow. And me along with him. His wife warned him about those speak-easys on easy street. But Charlie, being Charlie, paid no attention to her. She told him,“If you end up in the slammer, I'm not going to bail you out. You can stay there until the cows come home as far as I'm concerned."

Waking up in there along with Charlie,I had a humdinger of a headache. That rotgut they served there sure had a kick to it. What a numbskull I was. Being a sidekick to Charlie is akin to ambush on a prairie's trail. His shenanigans tend to invite adverse recollections.

I shoulda' known better than to side with him when he suggested we perambulate ourselves down there Saturday night. I had no wife to give account to and was I glad; I didn't have to explain my black eye; it's a lalapalooza. And my own headache was humongous.

I'm not much of a cook but the hash in there was worse than the greasy spoons, where my pocketbook determines my daily cuisine. And the lukewarm java must have saved the county a bundle, it being so weak and all.

Well, I guess the cows came home - we got turned loose after the predetermined amount of time. Charlie had to face the music at his house; I just got to nurse my sorry grievance all by my lonesome.

I guess I'm a glutten for punishment. Gazing at my shiner, my neighbor shook his head, “Moe," he said, "You're a walking tagalong catastrophe. You'd better leave off that John Barleycorn; try drinking sarsaparilla; at least it won't lead to fisticuffs and other disarrangements.

Well, I guess I'd best be signing off for now,

And hoping to hear from you soon,

Your loving brother, Moe