Superman GrandpaCAHL SHULTZ

In a quaint little white and green houseon Archington Avenue one sunny after-noon, Jane, the mistress of the house, wasknitting a sweater. As she worked overher masterpiece, she listened intently tothe voice coming from grandfather's room.Once again his imaginative mind wasworking overtime, and his daydreaminggremlins were carrying him off to a landof oblivion. Jane listened, "Whish, with aquick change of clothing, I stand beforeyou as Superman!" Now grandpa, attiredin his suit of red flannels and beating mad-lyon his sunken chest, was in the throes ofportraying his favorite character. Afterthe first hard pound had sent him sprawl-ing to the floor, he stood upright, admiringhimself before the mirror. "SupermanGrandpa, that's me. No one can top myphysique", he said as he stared at hispuny, wrinkled, spindle-legged body."These curly, raven locks", he added as hishand stroked his gray-fringed, bald head,"are always neatly groomed regardless ofwhat hair raising adventure I have justexperienced". Jane laid aside her knittingas she continued to listen to grandpa'sramblings. She moved her chair so thatshe might command a better view ofgrandpa as her interest was mounting."My dynamic biceps and powerful forearmscan never be equalled", raved grandpa.At this Jane's jaw dropped open but asuppressed giggle quickly bubbled forth asshe gazed upon grandpa's magnificent,toothpick-like arms. As the afternoondrew to a close, Jane reluctantly retired toprepare dinner, and grandpa continued hisescapades of holding up bridges, buildings,and trains. After saving approximatelytwenty-two lives during the afternoon, hedecided to return to his normal life for

the remainder of that day.Dinner was served, and grandpa

emerged from his room the quiet, sedatelittle fellow whom the community knew.After he had eaten, he followed his jour-nalistic tendencies by persuing the even-ing paper. Before long his tired headbegan to nod as he answered the sandman'scall.

The hours slowly ticked away until thechimes announced the midnight hour. Apeaceful quiet pervaded the house. Out-side the same creepy silence prevailed.However, a shadowy figure stealthilycrept toward the open window in grandpa'sroom. Fingers appeared in the sill, andthe window slowly was raised higher.Grandpa turned in his bed, and the thief'seyes narrowed as he peered hard and deepinto the gloomy room. His hands hadstopped the movements of the windownow, and he sprang lightly to the ledge,preparing to drop quietly to the inside.Once again grandpa stirred in his sleep;his eyes opened slowly. Immediately theyfell upon the unexpected intruder. Scaredbeyond control and, forgetting that thevisitor was practically between himselfand the door, grandpa, in a mad, wildfrenzy, leaped from his sleeping positionand jumped for the door. While in flight,his two feet came in contact with the sur-prised, and now upraised, head of the un-welcome visitor. His shouts and yells hadawakened Jane who scurried down thehall to the rescue. A heavy thud resound-ed through the house as the thug's heavycarcass hit the floor. In a flash grandpahad bounded out the door and stoodnervously tense at Jane's side.

Cautiously inspecting the room, Janediscovered the housebreaker unconscious

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with a nasty welt on his head. Althoughsomewhat amazed at her findings, sheturned and gave full credit to grandpaand his nimble, Superman-like ability.Casting it off in a nonchalant and a "notso unusual" manner, he graciously accept-ed her comments. Although from Jane hehad accepted the credit, grandpa silentlythanked the sharp-cornered chest at thefoot of his bed.

Now a neighborhood hero and school-boy favorite, because of Jane's story,

grandpa continued his Superman day-dreams with more confidence in himselfas to his abilities and his commando tech-nique. Not once again as long as grandpalived did Jane ever criticize, make fun of,or even consider having those "little menin white coats" from the bug house comevisit grandpa. So if you're ever downon Archington Avenue, and you pass a lit-tle white and green house, and you heara cry, "I'm Superman Grandpa ,that's me!"

-take heed.

A Modern DrugstoreRICHARD G. FINLEY

Who is the person who has not walkedinto a drugstore without being promptlyand completely confused? Who is the per-son who has not bent an ear to the sageadvice of a bespectled clerk, "Pardon mesir, but I would suggest that you take thisother aisle to the prescription counter, wehave had no word from five customerswho went the other way two weeks ago.We are still searching for them."

Who is that person? Not I.Let us stroll slowly down the street to

an imposing looking window. A tastefularrangement? Hardly. A colorful display?Well, yes, in its own way. A beacon oflight offering guidance to all those suffer-ing or in good health? Precisely.

A beautiful girl looks down withsparkling eyes, smiling directly at You!A gigantic tube of Pepsodent below pro-claims that she uses Pepsodent with Irium,further warning that if you should fail todo likewise, you will spend an unhappyand toothless old age.

Below in pleasing disarray are spreadseveral boxes of their delicious chocolatecovered tidbits at only 69 cents for fivepounds, after which you should rinse yourmouth with Listerine to remove all decay-ing substance from between your teeth.

Buy your War Savings Bonds andStamps here. Save 20 per cent on hotwater bags which is just the thing for yourcomplexion, made by Elizabeth Arden withthe new sweep second hand. Let uswander inside before we become confused.

"Mayl helpya buddy," war times you

know."Well, yes, a three cent stamp, please.""A three cent stamp?" his voice rises

to high pitch and cracks on the last ward.He looks around him, a bit confused. "Idon't know, you might ask at the back ofthe store." Your wandering continues.

A similar greeting, inquiring if theycan "getcha sumpthin," brings you face toface with a young woman surrounded bya welter of jars. Lipstick and mascarahave been used liberally to produce adubious effect, which is enhanced by thepopping of her bubble gum. You ask againfor a stamp. Her eyebrows rise and shedirects you to a front counter as if talking

to one mentally weak.A firm resolve to find your stamps or

die in the attempt is born within, and withfirm, measured stride, you make your waybetween the bathing suits and the Cash-mere Bouquet. I wish you luck, my bravesoul, I died in the attempt.

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