human
You're a peach of a dog man, you are, he announced belligerently.
gpt
Here's where you get yours.
human
You keep away from me, or I'll lay you out, Wilton Davis responded desperately, brandishing a short iron bar in his right hand.
gpt
Besides, you just wait if you want to, and I'll lay you out afterward. But first of all I'm going to lay out that dog. Come on along and see--damn him! How was I to know? He was a new one. He never peeped in rehearsal. How was I to know he was going to yap when we arranged the set behind you?
human
You've raised hell,
gpt
Nothing to what I'm going to raise, Davis retorted, shortening his grip on the iron bar and raising it.
human
I'm going to kill 'm. I'm going to beat the life out of him. You just watch.
gpt
I just guess you ain't goin' to do anything of the sort,
human
It's my property,
gpt
And against it I'm goin' to stack up my common sense, was the stage- hand's reply.
human
You tap him once, and see what you'll get. Dogs is dogs, and men is men, but I'm damned if I know what you are. You can't pull off rough stuff on that dog. First time he was on a stage in his life, after being starved and thirsted for two days. Oh, I know, Mr. Manager.
gpt
If you kill the dog it'll cost you a dollar to the garbage man to get rid of the carcass,
human
I'll pay it gladly, Davis said, again lifting the iron bar.
gpt
I've got some come-back, ain't I?
human
You animal guys make me sick, the stage-hand uttered.
gpt
You just make me draw the line somewheres. And here it is: you tap him once with that baby crowbar, and I'll tap you hard enough to lose me my job and to send you to hospital.
human
Now look here, Jackson . . .
gpt
You can't say nothin' to me, was the retort.
human
My mind's made up. If that cheap guy lays a finger on that dog I'm just sure goin' to lose my job. I'm gettin tired anyway of seein' these skates beatin' up their animals. They've made me sick clean through.
gpt
There's no use pulling off a rough-house, he counselled.
human
I don't want to lose Jackson and he'll put you into hospital if he ever gets started. Send the dog back where you got him. Your wife's told me about him. Stick him into a box and send him back collect. Collins won't mind. He'll take the singing out of him and work him into something.
gpt
I'll tell you what, the manager went on persuasively.
human
Jackson will attend to the whole thing, box him up, ship him, everything--won't you, Jackson?
gpt
Well, Davis gave in, turning on his heel,
human
He sings too much to suit my fancy,