Aunt Ella said the dust will ruin my complexion, but pop told her that dust would smooth her complexion off. Which was about right, because Ella was wrinkled like Geronimo who used to take permanent waves out of people's scalps.
Uncle Al wouldn't climb into the car because he said he had a dream the other night. He was invited to a temporary banquet to get some permanent indigestion and he dreamed he was trying to get his shoes on. They were tight and he dreamed he was using a double-edged razor for a shoe horn. This dream frightened him so much he refused to pay his back taxes on some property he owned which was confiscated by the Government.
It was a fine piece of malaria estate right between two large lakes. One of the lakes was a swamp and the other was its little brother, and Uncle Al had been trying to sell it by mail. He had some pictures taken with a weak camera and printed them on souvenir postcards for distribution through the swamp buying districts.
Pop had bought one of Uncle Al's irrigated bogs on credit and told Uncle Al that he intended running for Congress on the frog ticket and should be elected sure.
