Drug Store Romance By Jeannette Morrell Oh, Man, who made my world go round With loving touch, soft-murmured sound, Had you been glancing long beyond This brunette to that doubtful blonde Before you made the sudden switch That left me in this drafty ditch? Have you yet counted up the cost And balanced "gained" against all "lost?" Have you rewaxed your shining line, Rejecting bits that once were mine? Some adjectives which once you used, Applied to her, might feel abused. What will you do with words like "slim" And "svelte" and "stream-lined," "sleek," and "trim?" May I suggest a substitute, Or maybe two like "plump" and "cute?" And "pudgy's" nice and "tubby" too, And maybe "droop" appeals to you. But choose your words and keep them plain Lest you upset that tiny brain And get its cell all in a flutter By some strange foreign word you utter Like "lady," shall we say, or "grace"; "Integrity" or "clean-washed face." Dear hank of hair and rag and bone! She'll shy away from things unknown. But let me wish you well, my dear, And just one word into your ear This heartfelt and well-meant advice To keep your dream all bright and nice: Where e'er you travel jungles, veldts, High mountains where snow never meldts, Smooth-rolling plains or far-flung beaches Don't get too for from where her bleach is. 1. I bet I could show you the bottle. 2. I still say Nature had no hand in it. 3. Let me pull just one little handful out by its roots. I could make you a nice, two-toned hair shirt. Page Twenty-two . . . somewhat remote from the throng of graceful moving figures. The Ingenue And Mr. Wolf By Peggy Andrus Marie did not altogether understand what had come over her, but she did know one thing. It was thrilling. And it was more than a mere passing tingle, such as affects one when touching the light switch with a moist palm. This feeling began in her throbbing heart and suffused her whole being. It raced outward in a positive radiation of fires attacking what seemed to her every nerve in her pulsating body. She reviewed all this in a second and yet had what seemed like delicious eons of time in which to savor that inimitable bursting glow, quite like no other she had ever felt. Of course she had no difficulty in attributing the chief stimulus to Manfred, who had drawn her into a sheltered, beflowered green bower of the Swingates' summer garden, somewhat remote from the throng of gracefully moving figures of the residential ballroom. But as much or more, she knew, was the contribution she herself made to this, the greatest moment of her life to date. Not only did her body respond to the sweet heated pressure of his mouth on hers, but also she felt in her soul the fulfillment at last of something going back into the be- ginnings of time, perhaps, through all the mothers of the race that was hers, from Eve on down. Insensibly she reasoned, "This is it. This is the greatest happiness I have known in all my happy life. This is the thing for which I was created and have my being. I want nothing more. Nothing more than to be with this man forever and obey his every wish. My swirling blood, driving up from my heart into my bosom, into my neck and face, into my mind, dizzying it, whirling it without consent of mine this is the supreme answer, the answer to why I was born, to the way in which I must henceforth live to bring the fated fruition of my life." She asked no other questions. Somewhere forward in time, she knew, they existed and must be answered. Who was this service man, this air corps lieutenant with the olive skin, the curly brown hair, the tones and inflections in his talk she had never heard before? Never before except in the movies. His age? His religion? His wife if any? All she cared and knew at this moment was that she was his and that was enough. He stirred a little. Her lips would not give up. They were one with his. They were not through. Would not be through. Not ever. Page Twenty-three