Explore "The Mischievous Typesetter" by Noel Loomis on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The judge reared back. High-Pockets waited. "In my opinion," his honor began a little ambiguously, "a linotype operator is very near the bottom of the scale of humanity. There is only one person who stands beneath him. That is the poet. " The judge's eyes turned full on High-Pockets, all seven gangling feet of him. "You," the judge said ominously, "are both."
High-Pockets waited in dread. He had a premonition that this wasn't even going to be a nice jail sentence where he could meditate and reflect on his strange power over linotypes. This was going to be the workhouse. The situation was desperate indeed.