Turnabout

Thorne Smith

Description

Though Thorne Smith's most popular works involve elements of fantasy and science fiction, the clever novel Turnabout takes his penchant for incorporating supernatural and magical themes in his work and puts one such plot twist to use as a comedic tool. An ancient Egyptian idol grows weary of the seemingly never-ending spats between the Willows, a young married couple, and forces them to switch bodies. As you might expect, hilarious hijinks ensue.

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 février 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781776529650
• Langue: English

Extrait

TURNABOUT
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THORNE SMITH
 
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Turnabout First published in 1931 Epub ISBN 978-1-77652-965-0 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77652-966-7 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - Mr. Willows Removes His Socks Chapter II - Interlude with a Furnace Chapter III - Good Clean Fun Chapter IV - Mr. Gibber Leaves the Room Chapter V - The Malicious Magic of Mr. Ram Chapter VI - Tim Tries to Be a Lady Chapter VII - A Man in Body Only Chapter VIII - How Not to Behave at a Church Supper Chapter IX - A Shocking Discovery Chapter X - Tim Seeks Enlightenment Chapter XI - No Job for a Lady Chapter XII - Sticking to Mr. Burdock Chapter XIII - The Baiting of Mr. Bentley Chapter XIV - Much Ado About Honour Chapter XV - Judge Clark Almost Loses His Temper Chapter XVI - An Inspired Advertisement Chapter XVII - Two Letters and a Crisis Chapter XVIII - False Alarm Chapter XIX - The Mystery of the Maternity Ward Chapter XX - Dopey All at Sea
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For my Brother, Skyring, His Wife Irene, My Nieces, Virginia and Carol Also for Pal, a Dog That Served as a Pillow
Chapter I - Mr. Willows Removes His Socks
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Clad in a fragile but frolicsome nightgown which disclosed some ratherinteresting feminine topography, Sally Willows sat on the edge of herbed and bent a pair of large brown eyes on her husband. This had beengoing on for some minutes—this cold dispassionate appraisal. At thepresent moment a growing sense of exasperation was robbing it a littleof its chill. Warmth had crept into her eyes, making them even morebeautiful and effective, but still they were not pleasant. Far from it.
As yet, however, Mrs. Sally Willows had denied herself the indulgence ofspeech. For this she is to be commended. It was a piece ofself-discipline she seldom if ever inflicted on her tongue. She waswaiting, waiting for that sock to come off, hoping against hope that thecrisis would pass and the evening remain calm if dull.
Meanwhile she was content to sit there on the edge of her bed andsilently consider her husband. At the moment she was considering him asshe would have considered a mere thing, or some clumsily animated objectthat forever kept knocking about her private life and getting in theway. Terribly in the way.
Five years ago everything had been so different. Then she never wouldhave looked at Tim Willows as she was looking at him now. In those earlymarital days this man creature had never been in her way, could neverget in her way too much. Naturally. That had been before he had become amere thing in her eyes. Also, that had been before her own personalexperience, enhanced by the vicarious liaison dished up by the highpriests of Hollywood, had given her a true appreciation of men, hadshown her how really attractive and devastating men could be and yetretain a quality so charmingly boyish and unspoiled...great, silent,passionate men with whimsical eyes and just a shade of helplessness ...men who could find a taxicab when no taxicabs were to be found and whocould purchase first-night tickets or reserve an illimitable vista ofrooms on the Île de France — never forgetting the flowers and a tricktoy or two—with admirable precision and dispatch and without theslightest display of nerves. Whenever her own husband attempted similaroperations, on a much smaller scale, of course, he invariably returnedunsuccessful, a nervous wreck bitterly complaining about the chicaneryof mankind and the complexity of modern existence. Why, the poor beastcould hardly make change without becoming so helplessly entangled thathe was forced to turn to her with trembling hands. Frequently she fearedthe man would begin to chatter instead of talk.
As she sat there on the edge of the bed, a trim, sleek, wholly desirablefigure with a smartly tailored head of glossy black hair, Sally Willowscould think of at least a couple of dozen men more appealing to her thanher husband, more worthy of her favours. When she had married TimWillows she had not sufficiently appreciated her own possibilities orthe possibilities of others. Idly she wondered how it would feel to bekept by a gloriously wealthy man who would give her everything shewanted, including unlimited freedom to exercise her charms on other menperhaps a trifle younger. Like most women who permit themselves to thinkat all she felt at times that she had it in her to become somethingpretty good in the line of a demi-monde , one in a position to pick andchoose her votaries, even to command them. Nothing sordid, of course.
And at that moment, sitting on various beds in various parts of theworld, innumerable wives were thus considering their wretched husbandsand thinking the self-same thoughts. Who can blame them?
Yes, things were a good deal different now from what they had been fiveyears back. For some time past—ever since she had danced with CarlBentley, in fact—she had come to regard her husband as being just ananimal about the house, an animal of the lower order that had beenthoughtlessly endowed with the gift of speech and an annoying ability toreason rather trenchantly. It had to be fed at certain times, kept cleanand profitably employed. In a way she was responsible, and it was all sovery tiresome. Occasionally she still found this animal useful,extracted from it a certain amount of physical satisfaction. It broughthome money and did things to the furnace. Sometimes it even made herlaugh and feel unexpectedly tender. But romance—where was romance?Deep, vigorous, headlong passion—what had become of that? Had thecinema screens absorbed that precious commodity as blotting paperabsorbs ink? And why did this animal fail to arouse in her thatdeliciously meretricious feeling that lent such zest to her flirtationswith other men...with Carl Bentley, especially?
All of which goes to show that Sally Willows was in rather a bad way.The girl stood sadly in need of a friendly but invigorating kick in herspiritual step-ins. But who was going to confer this favour upon her?She was worth it. She really was, for fundamentally Sally Willows was agood sort. One of the best. And at twenty-eight even a modern womanstill has a lot to live and learn as well as to forget.
Cheerfully unconscious of his wife's protracted scrutiny, entirelyignorant of her state of mind, Mr. Willows, his slender body plunged ina deep armchair, was dreamily engaged in removing his socks. That is notquite accurate. The man was not actually removing his socks, but ratherworking himself up gradually to such a pitch that he would be forced totake some decisive action about his socks, one way or the other. It wasalmost as if he entertained the mad hope that the socks, once havingascertained his purpose, would obligingly remove themselves. From theexpression in his rather dim, dissipated-looking eyes one would havebeen led to believe that he was enmeshed in the web of some mysticritual of transcendent loveliness.
After thirty-five years of hostilities the man was still at war withhimself and the world in general. So many men are, and like Tim, notaltogether without reason. He had not succeeded in getting himselfanywhere in particular, and he rather more than half suspected he neverwould. Somehow he could not bring himself to care greatly about it. Thatis bad, the very antithesis of the red-blooded, two-fisted, he-manattitude that invariably leads to success. He was too erratic ever toestablish himself securely in the advertising agency that tolerated hispresence. Also, he was far too brilliant. Brilliance in business asdistinguished from cleverness is a disturbing factor. It is slightlyimmoral and always subject to change.
Underpaid although frequently patted on the back, he was neverthelessheld suspect by the powers that were. An accusing aura of cynicaldetachment seemed to surround him. He was unable to shake it off, unableto conceal it. From somewhere within his being emanated a spirit ofunorthodoxy. At times in his presence his superiors experienced a vaguefeeling of insecurity and for the moment even suspected the efficacy oftheir most dependable platitudes. Even while they were showering praiseupon him for some brain wave they seemed to realise that in Tim Willowsthey did not have a willing worker for whom the honour and the glory ofthe Nationwide Advertising Agency, Inc., trod hot upon the heels of Godand country, so hot, in fact, that at times both God and country wereleft a trifle winded.
From his point of vantage on a nearby bookcase Mr. Ram, in his turn,considered both husband and wife.
Mr. Ram was a small Egyptian statue. Old, ages old. The wisdom of thepowdered centuries lay behind his eyes. He was a colourful little figureand quite authentic. Mr. Ram through the sheer charm of his persuasivepersonality had established himself as a household deity from the firstdays of the Willowses' joint experiment. He had moved with them fromhouse to house, travelled with them over land and sea and shared in theebb and flow of their never opulent fortunes. During those five years hehad observed much and thought more. Whatever detractors might say aboutMr. Ram they could not accuse him of having failed to take seriously hisresponsibilities to Tim and Sally.
Tim was more fortunate than he realised in possessing the casualaffection of a globe-drinking uncle beside whom the blackest of sheepwould have appeared pallid. Dick Willows, so far as the family had everbeen able to ascertain, had only two aims