Every Shot Counts

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

Every shot counts. Another adventure at George Valentine. Mr. Valentine, sir. I'm a cowboy movie star. I'm sure you must have seen me some time, even if it's only on television. Anyway, I know how silly it sounds, but I need help.

There's a most desperate situation that requires the action of a hero. And while I'd like to qualify, this same situation requires certain proficiency that I haven't got. Notably, there's a mystery. Mysteries aren't my longest suit.

You see, I'm at her. Her, I mean, but just barely. Mr. Valentine, this lovely young lady I refer to, she's in distress. She is. But Mr. Dippro, in your letter you didn't tell her. Daphne.

That's who she is. Daphne. Daphne. Yaw. I met her just the other day, you realize. I was talking to a man, I know a song clugger. That's like a fuller brush, man, only with music.

He pointed her out. You know the tight Miss Brooks, a little school teacher, tight, but it's always having Westerns, you know, big bashful blue eyes and hair like honey and a heart just as big as all out of doors.

With a head to that. Yeah, I know. Who cares if you smart? I don't. Anyway, I find this little girl lives all alone, way up in the imperial crest of apartments. Uh-oh, I take it back.

Stephanie does all right, doesn't she? Oh, well, she has money, but she's nervous. nervous. You know what I mean. So nervous. So hardly talk and afraid. I think somebody's watching her up there. Well I'm not surprised. A big bad wolf maybe.