“in this dreadful heat? How silly!”
“Always on the go,” purred Esther.
“It’s wise to keep abreast,” said Guy seriously. “I’ll just nip down to Canaveral and see what’s shaking on the space-scene, so to speak.”
“Same old six-and-seven, Guy?” teased big Ginger, flashing up at him.
“Well, who can say?” admitted Guy frankly. “These are odd times—are, if I may say, times that try men’s souls. Yet each of us does his best —who can say more?”
“Guy,” said Ginger, squeezing his hand and sparkling up again on one monstrous surge of personality, “it has been fun!” Good-byes were her forte.
Guy gave a courtly nod, before turning to go, in deference, it seemed, to her beauty.
“My dear,” he whispered, with a huskiness that made all the ladies tingle, “it has been. . . inspiring .”
The S.S. Magic Christian was Grand’s last major project—at least it was the last to be brought into open account. After that he began to taper off. However, he did like “keeping in touch,” as he expressed it, and, for one thing, he bought himself a grocery store in New York City. Quite small, it was more or less indistinguishable from the several others in the neighborhood, and Grand put up a little sign in the window.
New Owner—New Policy
Big Get-Acquainted Sale
Grand was behind the counter himself, wearing a sort of white smock—not too unlike his big Vanity lab smock—when the store opened that evening.
His first customer was a man who lived next door to the store. He bought a carton of Grape-Ade.
“That will be three cents,” said Grand.
“How much?” asked the man, with a frown.
“Three cents.”
“Three cents? For six Grape-Ade? Are you kidding?”
“It’s our two-for-one Get-Acquainted on Grape-Ade,” said Grand. “It’s new policy.”
“Boy, I’ll say it’s new,” said the man. “And how! Three cents? Okay by me, brother!” He slapped three cents on the counter. “There it is!” he said and still seemed amazed when Grand pushed the carton towards him.
“Call again,” said Grand.
“That’s some policy all right,” said the man, looking back over his shoulder as he started for the door. At the door, however, he paused.
“Listen,” he said, “do you sell it . . . uh, you know, by the case?”
“Well, yes,” said Grand, “you would get some further reduction if you bought it by the case—not too much, of course; we’re working on a fairly small profit-margin during the sale, you see and—”
“Oh, I’ll pay the two-for-one all right. Christ! I just wanted to know if I could get a case at that price.”
“Certainly, would you like a case?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I could use more than one case . . .”
“How many cases could you use?”
“Well, uh . . . how many . . . how many have you got?”
“Could you use a thousand?”
“A thousand?!? A thousand cases of Grape-Ade?”
“Yes, I could give you say, ten percent off on a thousand and at twenty-four bottles to the case, twelve cents a case would be one hundred and twenty dollars, minus ten percent, would be one hundred and eight call it one-naught-five, shall we?”
“No, no. I couldn’t use a thousand cases. Jesus! I meant, say, ten cases.”
“That would be a dollar twenty.”
“Right!” said the man. He slapped down a dollar twenty on the counter. “Boy, that’s some policy you’ve got there!” he said.
“It’s our Get-Acquainted policy,” said Grand.
“It’s some policy all right,” said the man. “Have you got any other specials on? You know, ‘two-for-one,’ that sort of thing?”
“Well, most of our items have been reduced for the Get-Acquainted.”
The man hadn’t noticed it before, but price tags were in evidence, and all prices had been sharply cut: milk, two cents a quart—butter, ten cents a pound—eggs, eleven cents a dozen—and so on.
The man looked wildly about him.
“How about cigarettes?”
“No, we decided we
“Always on the go,” purred Esther.
“It’s wise to keep abreast,” said Guy seriously. “I’ll just nip down to Canaveral and see what’s shaking on the space-scene, so to speak.”
“Same old six-and-seven, Guy?” teased big Ginger, flashing up at him.
“Well, who can say?” admitted Guy frankly. “These are odd times—are, if I may say, times that try men’s souls. Yet each of us does his best —who can say more?”
“Guy,” said Ginger, squeezing his hand and sparkling up again on one monstrous surge of personality, “it has been fun!” Good-byes were her forte.
Guy gave a courtly nod, before turning to go, in deference, it seemed, to her beauty.
“My dear,” he whispered, with a huskiness that made all the ladies tingle, “it has been. . . inspiring .”
The S.S. Magic Christian was Grand’s last major project—at least it was the last to be brought into open account. After that he began to taper off. However, he did like “keeping in touch,” as he expressed it, and, for one thing, he bought himself a grocery store in New York City. Quite small, it was more or less indistinguishable from the several others in the neighborhood, and Grand put up a little sign in the window.
New Owner—New Policy
Big Get-Acquainted Sale
Grand was behind the counter himself, wearing a sort of white smock—not too unlike his big Vanity lab smock—when the store opened that evening.
His first customer was a man who lived next door to the store. He bought a carton of Grape-Ade.
“That will be three cents,” said Grand.
“How much?” asked the man, with a frown.
“Three cents.”
“Three cents? For six Grape-Ade? Are you kidding?”
“It’s our two-for-one Get-Acquainted on Grape-Ade,” said Grand. “It’s new policy.”
“Boy, I’ll say it’s new,” said the man. “And how! Three cents? Okay by me, brother!” He slapped three cents on the counter. “There it is!” he said and still seemed amazed when Grand pushed the carton towards him.
“Call again,” said Grand.
“That’s some policy all right,” said the man, looking back over his shoulder as he started for the door. At the door, however, he paused.
“Listen,” he said, “do you sell it . . . uh, you know, by the case?”
“Well, yes,” said Grand, “you would get some further reduction if you bought it by the case—not too much, of course; we’re working on a fairly small profit-margin during the sale, you see and—”
“Oh, I’ll pay the two-for-one all right. Christ! I just wanted to know if I could get a case at that price.”
“Certainly, would you like a case?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I could use more than one case . . .”
“How many cases could you use?”
“Well, uh . . . how many . . . how many have you got?”
“Could you use a thousand?”
“A thousand?!? A thousand cases of Grape-Ade?”
“Yes, I could give you say, ten percent off on a thousand and at twenty-four bottles to the case, twelve cents a case would be one hundred and twenty dollars, minus ten percent, would be one hundred and eight call it one-naught-five, shall we?”
“No, no. I couldn’t use a thousand cases. Jesus! I meant, say, ten cases.”
“That would be a dollar twenty.”
“Right!” said the man. He slapped down a dollar twenty on the counter. “Boy, that’s some policy you’ve got there!” he said.
“It’s our Get-Acquainted policy,” said Grand.
“It’s some policy all right,” said the man. “Have you got any other specials on? You know, ‘two-for-one,’ that sort of thing?”
“Well, most of our items have been reduced for the Get-Acquainted.”
The man hadn’t noticed it before, but price tags were in evidence, and all prices had been sharply cut: milk, two cents a quart—butter, ten cents a pound—eggs, eleven cents a dozen—and so on.
The man looked wildly about him.
“How about cigarettes?”
“No, we decided we
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