From Life With Groucho by Arthur Marx

Because of the importance of the impending event, Father and his brothers frequently stayed at the theater after their nightly stint, smoothing out the rough spots in the show and devising new routines. It was usually late when my father returned to the hotel, and he wouldn't feel like taking me to breakfast in the mornings. To spare my mother the pleasure, Father bribed Ed Metcalf, one of the bit players in the show, to get me up every morning and take me to breakfast. Metcalf was a burly, red-faced Irishman who played the part of the detective in Harpo's renowned knife-stealing scene.

My father had warned Metcalf not to let me pour the whole bowl of sugar over my oatmeal but Metcalf construed it to mean no sugar at all. Every morning, for four successive days, he foiled my attempts to get the sugar bowl. By the fifth day, I was getting pretty sick of him, and when he still refused to allow me even one small spoonful, I blew my three-year-old top, and said, "Pass the sugar, you son of a bitch!"

Metcalf wasn't familiar with the works of Dr. Spock, and didn't quite know how to handle the situation. His first impulse, of course, was to wallop me, but not knowing how my father might feel about it, he refrained from brute force and escorted me back to the hotel, remarking along the way that my father would undoubtedly give me a sound thrashing.

After Metcalf had departed, my father sat me down and shook his head in silent disapproval. After what seemed like hours, he finally said, "Arthur, I'm surprised at you, treating Mr. Metcalf that way."

"Well, he wouldn't let me have any sugar," I complained.

"That's no way to get it," said Father patiently. "If you expect him to be nice to you, you should say, 'Please pass the sugar-you son of a bitch.' "