Cause for Thanksgiving

Personal notice, dangerous my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you've got a job for me, George Valentine. Right full details. Standard Oil Company of California, on behalf of independent chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West, invites you to let George do it.

That's for Thanksgiving, another adventure of George Valentine. What? Hello? Oh, man. Is that you? Well, it's not Tom Turkey.

Listen, my friend. You sure it's not? What's that ten-year-old stuff? Hey, you been jumping the gun on the cranberry sauce? All right, all right, all right. I'll say it's straight. I'm phoning on behalf of a little boy ten years old.

Well, that's better. No, it's not. It's worse. Said little boy could no more write you a letter than he could hope to choke. I doubt it became right. What's the matter? He can't talk either.

Huh? You hurt me. I said he can't talk. Oh, I don't mean there's anything wrong with them all. Maybe there is. I don't know. But look, Valentine, get over here. Will you ride away to my house?

Well, sure. But I warned your friend. This little boy never heard of Thanksgiving. If you're gonna help him, you'd better bring your brass knuckles. Where is he, Lieutenant? Oh, Mrs. Riley's got him in there trying to coax him to eat.

But the only time he'll take a bite is when she's turned her back. Oh, is he? Where'd you get him? One of the boys in my department picked him up early this morning at 3 a.m. on the waterfront, the warehouse lane. Oh, I see. Little on the tough side, huh? Oh, they all