Let YOU repair my furniture? Like I’m going to let an adhesive-obsessed friend of Snow White’s into my house, armed with a bottle of super-glue. No thank you, Doc “Glueky.” I guess that is an in-joke, your name. I don’t get it though.
What sort of doctor are you, anyway? If you cannot remember your pants in the morning, I hardly think that you are up to making diagnoses. Still, I suppose that it is nice of you to offer to repair my furniture (though the implication that it is all falling down around us is a trifle rude, you must admit).
Perhaps the Wicked Queen could hire you to glue her magic mirror back together. And you might want to suggest a course of self-esteem-based therapy as well. Or maybe you could repair a few gingerbread cottages. The Necco Wafer roof tiles do tend to fall off when it rains (they melt, too, but that’s another problem). And Grace the Card Table Lady from yesterday’s post could have availed herself of your services before rushing out to buy new card tables. She might want to work on the whole issue of peer pressure, too, while you’re at it.
From Popular Science, April 1941.