Page 29 of the Spartan Spanker, a magazine created and published by San Jose State Normal School students. The page shows an advertisment for the "Oyster Loaf Grill" and part of a script written by a student. Microtek Scanmaker 1000XL, 600 dpi TIFF image in 8-bit Grayscale. Auto Level image processing applied and compressed into JPEG format using Photoshop CS3. SPANKER 29 Oyster Loaf grill home like cooking ~tastily served~ DANCING WED., FRI., SAT., SUN. EVENINGS FRANK ARNERICH 31 EAST SANTA CLARA STREET SCENE ONE Scene: The White House Kitchenette. Mrs. Cool, is seen (or should be) cracking a large egg in a chic morning cap and gown. Mr., still in evening dress, looks languidly out open door where Laddie is running mad. Mrs.—Cal, think, these big eggs— Mr.—Lord, what a party! Mrs.—For only thirty— Mr.—Was three ahead of 'em all. It was midnight on the ocean, not a street car was in sight, and the veranda was empty, not a suitor hove in view, as she held her breath and listened it was ali that she ever had, except a dozen children. She still believed in sailors and in the red, white and blue, but what the devil's to do with this story except to give another point to an unfortunate love story. For Elinor Glyn had eloped with her second husband and hadn't a thing to do with the masterpiece. She is the jane that really doesn't know a thing about romance, but wrote a book about "Three Weeks" and the "Philosophy of Love." No connection at all to "Ten Nights in a Barroom." Hut at that the oceair was empty except a pure Venetian moon with the sun shining down audaciously upon the silvery waters as Elinor and her second husband still whispered sweet nothingness in one another's ears. It was midnight on the ocean, not a street car was in sight. SPANKER close your eyes, count 60 and just continue. Cal is re-seated, subdued and calm and ever drinking water. Mrs. is starting on a second dozen of raw eggs, just as large and loquacious. At regular intervals, Laddie, in measured strides, crosses before the open door on his front feet. Mrs.—These eggs are so big, they must be duck eggs. Have one, Cal ? Mr.—Water! Water! Anywhere! Anyhow! Mrs.—Stop, Cal. You drink too much water for a hang-over. Mr.—Hang-over ? Mrs.—Hang-over! Mr.—Did YOU ever see me hang over? Imagine another curtain till the row's over. SCENE THREE Same again, little later. Not such a row after all. Butter'n egg Man brought more eggs. White of an egg streams down past Cal's left eye, dripping from chin onto coat lapel. Silence. Laddie barks and shuffles past the door on his tail. Silence, and mixed mutters. Mrs. opens a bottle of milk with finger—cream spatters with dull plop on Cal's bowed (not bowed) head. More silence, with more mutters. From far off Laddie barks and stands on his ears in doorway, erect and intent with much listening. Cal rises with precision and looks everywhere for a word. Finds a nasty one loitering near the Mrs. and hurls it through the air, breaking the silence with a loud shudder. He turns round and stares straight at us, stage-struck. He chatters: Mr.—This meal's a flop. I'm going to set in at Congress and see if I can raise any! (Grabs a pack of Congress card? and stands still.) Keep your seats—Curtain delayed till Cal gets out of the way. Picture of a young college boy (first time away from home) about to forget one of (he things his mother told him not to do. Mrs.—Two- Mr. (rising with fire in one eye and an unsteady cup in the other hand)— No! I oughta know! Three! Mrs.—Cents a dozen. Mr. (staggers eagerly to door for fresh air, moaning, as he passes out, "D. Dan McGrrrru-ulp!") Imagine a curtain falling ri.irir now. SCENE TWO Scene: Same, one minute later—
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