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Show 'THREE-RING CIRCUS' Apple-plexy by Richard Barnum-Reese v. . J "Fill out this form with at." two pencil and submit ill; studentfaculty apple cor Tuesday evening at 8 p.m. i': sure to have it notarized." The Eternal Spirit is f broadly as the frog files to" intestines of the Park B'i "Temporary setback al resolves the Frog Man. The Frog Man filters tlwf dusk, jackhammer calcul hand. He sends authoritative credit debunkers through false notices of family insinuations of scandalous an flagrant delicti: "This is tor: you that the Cosmolcf Center of Final Virtue has mined you an indelible ;; risk; Furthermore (the continued). ,n.UMf THIS WILL FOLLOW W REST OF YOUR LIFEM In the month ofOc; Lake uneasily str winter. Sometimes mildly toward NoJ weather was msnipf' coouenish wiles Jf t freshman. If Vu g. enough you can see crystallized to t sure s,gn of an Jt, This morning, shuffled cattle-Hk J" classes, you could f freshman nymph" successful. THE APPLE PEOPLE PLOT I am being attacked by the apple machines. The enemy is in assault formation. These insidious hirelings of the computer conspiracy are undermining the fabric of sanity. Yes, it is true, the quarter consumers con-sumers are in league with the four-legged four-legged Zip Codes and the Social Security Androids. "Excuse me, miss, the apple machine just ate my quarter.' (1 do not know that Janet Borowskiwitz is A.P.P.L.E. agent 638. 1 am oblivious to the danger She mechanically implements A.P.P.L.E. directive 77.) "I'm sorry, young man, I can't do anything for you. I just work here " "Who controls the apples?" "I don't know. Why don't you speak with the people in the Park Building?" Kited to the wind the Frog Man slides toward the white monolith of make-shift metaphysicians He prepares to counter-punch the Bureaucratic Beast. He innocently enters the mandibles of the manna mirage. He confronts the Eternal Spirit who inhabits window Z in the bowels of the Park Building. "Hello, I just lost a quarter to the apple machine. Would you be good enough to replace my lost quarter?" quar-ter?" "Are you sure it was a quarter?" The Frog Man is perplexed. Perhaps it was not a quarter. Perhaps it was the symbol of a quarter. Possibly it was a psychic manifestation of a quarter. He pauses, obviously tethered to the subtle nuances of the dialectic which proceeds from agreeing to the existence of the quarter. He dives into the void. "Yes, it was a quarter." "How can you know it was a quarter? Maybe it was a dime, a German Mark, a dead seagull or the entrails of an earthworm." "Look, lady, I know it was a quarter because last year apples cost a dime and this year they cost fifteen cents." She is not easily sidetracked. A sinister smile splits prefabricated teeth. She produces three pages of tissue paper. |