MASH 14 MASH goes to Moscow by Richard Hooker+William Butterworth
Authors: Richard Hooker+William Butterworth
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Sanitary Technician Rumplemayer to you, Cat Lady,” Siegfried replied.
“Do you know what your little monster has been up to, Rumplemayer ?” Cat Lady screamed.
“Which little monster do you mean, Cat Lady?”
“Dirty Little Gerty is who I mean,” she shouted. “How many little monsters do you have, anyway?”
“I’m a busy man, Cat Lady,” Siegfried had replied. “Get to the point.”
“You know that pack of wild dogs that runs around the swamp?”
“What about them?”
“Your Dirty Little Gerty has been feeding my precious pussy cats to them, that’s what about them!”
“I don’t quite follow you, Cat Lady,” Siegfried said.
“I’ll explain it in simple terms,” she said. “That little monster of yours has been catching my precious pussy cats in a potato sack and then carrying them down to the swamp and letting them loose so those terrible dogs can chase them.”
“Thank you for bringing the situation to my attention, Cat Lady,” Siegfried replied with dignity. “I’ll have a word with the little … with Gertrude-Darling.”
“You should take a horse-whip to her, that’s what you should do!”
“Unfortunately, there are laws against that,” Siegfried said. “And Little Gerty knows all of them.”
“She’s a vicious little monster, that’s what she is,” Cat Lady said.
“She does favor her mother,” Siegfried said. “I’ll look into the matter.”
By the time he had climbed the stairs to the third-floor rear apartment he thought of as his little place in the country, Siegfried had realized that one of his major dog-napping problems (how to get the mutts away from the pansies) had been solved.
“ Gerty -Baby,” he said, “how would Daddy’s little darling like to go to work with Daddy tomorrow?”
“Not on your life,” Little Gerty replied, with the lisp that would one day become as world famous as Jimmy Carter’s choppers.
“Daddy’s heard about the fun you’ve been having with Cat Lady’s kitty cats,” Siegfried said.
“The old witch squealed on me, did she?” Little Gerty said, with a snarl. “I’ll push her wheelchair down the stairs for that!”
‘I’ve got a better idea than that,” Siegfried said, and he explained what he had in mind in some detail.
“Daddy-Dear, that’s an absolutely rotten idea,” Little Gerty squealed gleefully. “I’ll do it!”
The very next day, it being a Saturday, Little Gerty went with her daddy to work. The ticket taker on the Staten Island Ferry informed the pair of them that taking three cats in a burlap sack aboard an official ferryboat of the City of New York was a no-no. For a moment, Siegfried was stumped, but Little Gerty rose to the challenge.
“One more word out of you, tomato nose,” she snarled, “and I’ll tell that fat cop over there that you offered me a Hershey Bar and a dime to play show-and-tell with you.”
Little Gerty waited at the Fifth Avenue and Sixty-third Street entrance to Central Park until Siegfried, by then in uniform and pushing his garbage-can-on-wheels, showed up. Two of the three cats in the burlap sack were stashed in a closet of a Gentleman’s Rest Facility to which Siegfried had a key. Cradling the third tabby in her arms, Little Gerty skipped down the curving path ahead of her daddy until they came across what they were looking for: A ten-dog strong pack of furry friends, ranging in size from a Chihuahua to a St. Bernard, being taken on their morning constitutional by an exquisitely graceful young man in purple pedal-pushers and a yellow beret. They were on a collision course.
“Get out of my way, you nasty sanitation person, you,” the young gentleman said. “Or I’ll sic my doggies on you!”
“Oh,” Little Gerty yelped, throwing the cat at him. “I dropped my pussy cat!”
The last seen of either the pussy cat, the exquisitely graceful young man, or the St. Bernard was as the latter chased the former through the rowboat concession on the shores of
“Do you know what your little monster has been up to, Rumplemayer ?” Cat Lady screamed.
“Which little monster do you mean, Cat Lady?”
“Dirty Little Gerty is who I mean,” she shouted. “How many little monsters do you have, anyway?”
“I’m a busy man, Cat Lady,” Siegfried had replied. “Get to the point.”
“You know that pack of wild dogs that runs around the swamp?”
“What about them?”
“Your Dirty Little Gerty has been feeding my precious pussy cats to them, that’s what about them!”
“I don’t quite follow you, Cat Lady,” Siegfried said.
“I’ll explain it in simple terms,” she said. “That little monster of yours has been catching my precious pussy cats in a potato sack and then carrying them down to the swamp and letting them loose so those terrible dogs can chase them.”
“Thank you for bringing the situation to my attention, Cat Lady,” Siegfried replied with dignity. “I’ll have a word with the little … with Gertrude-Darling.”
“You should take a horse-whip to her, that’s what you should do!”
“Unfortunately, there are laws against that,” Siegfried said. “And Little Gerty knows all of them.”
“She’s a vicious little monster, that’s what she is,” Cat Lady said.
“She does favor her mother,” Siegfried said. “I’ll look into the matter.”
By the time he had climbed the stairs to the third-floor rear apartment he thought of as his little place in the country, Siegfried had realized that one of his major dog-napping problems (how to get the mutts away from the pansies) had been solved.
“ Gerty -Baby,” he said, “how would Daddy’s little darling like to go to work with Daddy tomorrow?”
“Not on your life,” Little Gerty replied, with the lisp that would one day become as world famous as Jimmy Carter’s choppers.
“Daddy’s heard about the fun you’ve been having with Cat Lady’s kitty cats,” Siegfried said.
“The old witch squealed on me, did she?” Little Gerty said, with a snarl. “I’ll push her wheelchair down the stairs for that!”
‘I’ve got a better idea than that,” Siegfried said, and he explained what he had in mind in some detail.
“Daddy-Dear, that’s an absolutely rotten idea,” Little Gerty squealed gleefully. “I’ll do it!”
The very next day, it being a Saturday, Little Gerty went with her daddy to work. The ticket taker on the Staten Island Ferry informed the pair of them that taking three cats in a burlap sack aboard an official ferryboat of the City of New York was a no-no. For a moment, Siegfried was stumped, but Little Gerty rose to the challenge.
“One more word out of you, tomato nose,” she snarled, “and I’ll tell that fat cop over there that you offered me a Hershey Bar and a dime to play show-and-tell with you.”
Little Gerty waited at the Fifth Avenue and Sixty-third Street entrance to Central Park until Siegfried, by then in uniform and pushing his garbage-can-on-wheels, showed up. Two of the three cats in the burlap sack were stashed in a closet of a Gentleman’s Rest Facility to which Siegfried had a key. Cradling the third tabby in her arms, Little Gerty skipped down the curving path ahead of her daddy until they came across what they were looking for: A ten-dog strong pack of furry friends, ranging in size from a Chihuahua to a St. Bernard, being taken on their morning constitutional by an exquisitely graceful young man in purple pedal-pushers and a yellow beret. They were on a collision course.
“Get out of my way, you nasty sanitation person, you,” the young gentleman said. “Or I’ll sic my doggies on you!”
“Oh,” Little Gerty yelped, throwing the cat at him. “I dropped my pussy cat!”
The last seen of either the pussy cat, the exquisitely graceful young man, or the St. Bernard was as the latter chased the former through the rowboat concession on the shores of
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