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The Slice: Climb aboard the Wayback machine

Today’s column is a reprinting of The Slice column from 100 years ago.

Jebidiah Krumpke didn’t know what was wrong with his cat, an experienced mouser named Shadrach.

The gray and white Browne’s Addition feline was a-wobbling and a-swaying something fierce.

“What’s ailing you, puss?” the bearded Spokane blacksmith asked the unsteady animal.

But it was his hired man, Asa, who provided the answer.

It seems Asa had forgotten to dispose of a bucket of homemade spirits before the January start of prohibition in Washington. It was in the corner of a shed out back. And Shadrach had helped himself to several lion-sized licks of the potent elixir.

“Cat never could hold his liquor,” said Krumpke.

Kids today: Enid McGuillicutty, 17, was looking out at one of the wonders of Spokane, the annual early-spring waterfalls in center town. But as she gazed at the swollen cataract, she saw a sight that amazed her.

It was her younger brother John, bobbing and thrashing in the torrent.

“Jumpin’ Jehoshophat, John!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“Can’t rightly say, sister,” he called back. “But don’t tell Ma or she’ll give me Hail Columbia.”

Enid intended to keep his secret, but she earned an esteemed reporter’s notebook by sharing the soggy story with The Slice.

Slice answers: Augustus “Raccoon” Appletree submitted “Mauled by marmots” as the worst possible excuse for missing a barn-raising.

Gert Fotheringham said “Grandpa’s got the misery” might fill the bill, noting it’s not usually contagious.

Newly arrived, but not for long: Disembarking from the train Wednesday morning was one Professor Harold Hill, who said he had come to Spokane to start a River City boys’ band.

Told local lads preferred shooting pool, he reboarded the train and headed east.

Overheard on the streetcar: “This confounded city should have kept the name Spokane Falls.”

Let’s see if it catches on: With summer approaching, it’s time to wonder if locals will persist in that language quirk we first observed last year.

You know, saying “Going to the lake” without ever mentioning which particular lake.

My guess? That’s not going to stick.

Today’s Slice question: At what point did you realize this is April Fools Day Eve and The Slice had gotten an early start on the high jinks?

The Slice is not really 100 years old, it just seems that way sometimes.

Write The Slice at P. O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210; call (509) 459-5470; email pault@spokesman.com. At least my contact information is on the level.

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