Where'd ya get those peepers..."
She trucked, jerking her buttocks and shaking her head from side to side.
Homer was amazed. He felt that the scene he was witnessing had been rehearsed. He was right. Their bitterest quarrels often took this form; he laughing, she singing.
Where'd ya get those eyes?
Gosh, all git up!
How'd they get so lit up?
Gosh all git..."
When Harry stopped, she stopped and flung herself into a chair. But Harry was only gathering strength for a final effort. He began again. This new laugh was not critical; it was horrible. When she was a child, he used to punish her with it. It was his masterpiece. There was a director who always called on him to give it when he was shooting a scene in an insane asylum or a haunted castle. It began with a sharp, metallic crackle, like burning sticks, then gradually increased in volume until it became a rapid bark, then fell away again to an obscene chuckle. After a slight pause, it climbed until it was the nicker of a horse, then still higher to become a machinelike screech.
Faye listened helplessly with her head cocked on one side. Suddenly, she too laughed, not willingly, but fighting the sound.
"You bastard!" she yelled.
She leaped to the couch, grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to shake him quiet.
He kept laughing.
--- Nathanael West, The Day of the Locust (1939)