text_original: Papalogos, radiant with relief, had departed twenty four hours later, leaving a fruit store on Dick's hands  a fruit store with a primitive set of accounts in the drawer and written instructions to close it out and give the proceeds to the Boys' Club in case of his known death. "The war certainly is getting its hands on you, all right," said Ralph when Dick told him of his new care. "You needn't worry about your bit."
text_transcription: CAPELLOGOS RADIANT WITH RELIEF HAD DEPARTED TWENTY FOUR HOURS LATER LEAVING A FRUIT STORE IN DICK'S HANDS A FRUIT STORE WITH A PRIMITIVE SET OF ACCOUNTS IN THE DRAWER AND WRITTEN INSTRUCTIONS TO CLOSE IT OUT AND GIVE THE PROCEEDS TO THE BOYS CLUB IN CASE OF HIS KNOWN DEATH WAR CERTAINLY IS GETTING ITS HANDS ON YOU ALL RIGHT SAID RALPH WHEN DICK TOLD HIM OF HIS NEW CARE YOU NEEDN'T WORRY ABOUT YOUR BIT
phonemes: pˌæpɐlˈoʊɡoʊz, ɹˈeɪdiənt wɪð ɹᵻlˈiːf, hæd dᵻpˈɑːɹɾᵻd twˈɛnti fˈɔːɹ ˈaʊɚz lˈeɪɾɚ, lˈiːvɪŋ ɐ fɹˈuːt stˈɔːɹ ˌɔn dˈɪks hˈændz ɐ fɹˈuːt stˈɔːɹ wɪð ɐ pɹˈɪmᵻtˌɪv sˈɛt ʌv ɐkˈaʊnts ɪnðə dɹˈɔːɹ ænd ɹˈɪʔn̩ ɪnstɹˈʌkʃənz tə klˈoʊz ɪɾ ˈaʊt ænd ɡˈɪv ðə pɹˈoʊsiːdz tə ðə bˈɔɪz klˈʌb ɪn kˈeɪs ʌv hɪz nˈoʊn dˈɛθ. "ðə wˈɔːɹ sˈɜːʔn̩li ɪz ɡˌɛɾɪŋ ɪts hˈændz ˈɔn juː, ˈɔːl ɹˈaɪt," sˈɛd ɹˈælf wɛn dˈɪk tˈoʊld hˌɪm ʌv hɪz nˈuː kˈɛɹ. "juː nˈiːdənt wˈʌɹi ɐbˌaʊt jʊɹ bˈɪt."