Washington, D.C,




■ Amateur Wholesale Electronics,

Coral Gables, Florida

Oak /and and San Francisco, California

• Douglas Electronics,

Corpus Christ/, Texas

• Electronic Distributors, Inc,,

Muskegon, Michigan

Farmingda/e, Jamaica, and New York, N. Y.

Los Angeles and Anaheim, California; Butler, Missouri

■ Stellar Industries,

Ithaca, New York

A Division of ECI (An NCR Subsidiary}

2200 Anvil Street North St. Petersburg, Fla. 33710

It Speaks for Itself" //

A Division of ECI (An NCR Subsidiary}

2200 Anvil Street North St. Petersburg, Fla. 33710

Mondo Hamme

Bob Manning, Kl YSD 915 Washington Road P. O. Box 66

West Ryet New Hampshire 03891

"OH NO! NOT AGAIN!!!" - with a nauseating SSSHHHHGG LLOPP!!! one sixth - or roughly one hefty handful - of a Sara Lee chocolate meringue cream pie whizzzed past my head ,and came to rest on my sound absorbent Avail-covering, in the process, my T/R switch a new RCC certificate and an autographed 8X10 glossy of my hero, J, Croyden Seymour [Poor ole J. Croyden! He was instrumental in interesting me in amateur radio and assisted in the planning of my ham shack. Regretably, he was prevented from seeing the completion process - having been struck down in one of the most bizarre accidents in homo sapien history-

It seems that a jilted young lover, who lived nearby, had decided to do away with himself by swallowing something toxic, then speeding to the home of his unrequited love, dramatically expiring on her door step. Unfortunately, he arbitrarily grabbed the first bottle in the medicine chest and ingested 2.9 litres of castor oiL

On the way to his destiny, the young lover was overcome by that 'irresistable urge" and, breaking all records for the Fat Man's 4:40, he sped into the men's room of the nearest gas station (appropriately enough, it was a "Flying 'A1 " station).

At that precise moment in time, the hapless I. Croyden, an extremely frugal man, was attempting to climb under the door of the only vacant pay stall in the place. The jilted lover plunged headlong for that particular door, deposited his dime and attempted to gain entry. Since he was standing on J. Croyden's spine and the door and floor were making rapid and repeated staccato contacts with J. Croyden's head, the jilted lover couldn't get in and J. Croyden couldn't get up.

The jilted lover, loudly bemoaning his fate, was doing what appeared to be a combination "War" "Rain" and "Put out that damned fire" dance all over J, Croyden's prostrate form. J. Croyden, being alternately pounded on the jawbone by the floor and the cerebellum by the metalic door was gurgling, "I'll pay - I'll pay - dammit I'll pay!"

Within a very short span of time, some other highly predictable events took place — none of which are relevant to the story save that they left J. Croyden with some odd residual inhibitions.

Since that day, his spare time is spent wandering around town with a harried look on his face, putting coins into pay phones, parking meters and gum ball machines, keeping up a continual mumble of i(Ya can't beat 'em! ya gotta pay! - ya just gotta pay!!"

At one time, unable to find a coin slot, J. Croyden just up and swallowed a fistful of coins — he lay in a hospital bed for three



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