The Sorrows of a Show Girl

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Ain’t it appalling,
demanded Sabrina, the Show Girl,
ain’t it appalling the way the show game has gone to the morgue this season?
I never seen nothing like it since I been in the business, and while I ain’t going to flash no family Bible that’s been some time. Why, shows that were making money if they played to thirty-two dollars on the day just naturally died. Me? You know I wasn’t hep to the outlook. I come prancing into town fresh from doing one-night stands through the uncultured West. We did bum business for fair, but shucks, there ain’t five dollars’ worth of real money in all of Southern Kansas at no time. Salaries! Huh! I had to send home for money to pay my fines with. I cavort gaily out to hunt a job and find a line from Mr. Seymour’s office that made the run on the Knickerbocker Trust Company look like the nightly window sale of ‘The Evangelist.’ I never seen so many of my friends in town at one time in my life, and if you make a noise like a dollar-bill anywhere between the two Flatirons you’re liable to be the center of a raging mob. I heard it breathed that all the theatrical storehouses in town were playing to S.R.O.