[Editor: This anecdote is from the “So They Say” column in the The Queenslander.]
Not what he thought
An old Western identity, whom I will call Tom Blank, was having a spree at an hotel and went to sleep in the bar. We picked him up and laid him on the sofa in the entrance hall, and thinking he was safe till morning, left him. Later on he fell off the sofa and rolled underneath it. About 3 o’clock in the morning he awoke, and in trying to sit up bumped his head on the bottom of the sofa. He began to wonder where he was and felt about in the darkness. He put his hand out on his right and touched the wall, then over his head and felt the wooden bottom of the sofa, then along the sofa bottom to the wall, and down the wall to the floor. Then he knew — or thought he did — and started to kick and to yell at the top of his voice: “I’m buried aloive! I’m buried aloive!” He nearly had the bottom kicked out of the sofa by the time we got downstairs and pulled him out. — “Westauga.”
Source:
The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld.), Thursday 31 January 1935, page 2
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