Good Night Mrs Russell

Suspens! Auto-light and its 96,000 dealers present Miss Betty Davis in Goodnight Mrs. Russell. A suspense play, reduced and edited by William Speer. Say, Hollow, what's the idea? Why do you stand there so stiffly and keep banging your hand on your forehead?

I'm saluting, hap. Saluting? Yeah. Oh, I get it. Saluting auto-light resistor spark plug. No, no. Not that those wonder-working wide gap quizzes don't warrant a wail of a whack on the whelkin. They do, they do. But tonight, I'm saluting the truckers of America.

The nifty non-parale purveyors of conveyors who are holding their annual get-together and Gabfest in Boston, Massachusetts, starting tomorrow. Oh, you mean the American Trucking Association? The same? Why, they've got millions of accident-free miles to their credit.

Sell them, if ever. Make a mistake on the road. How do they do it? I'm not sure, but I think auto-light resistors, spark plugs, must be behind. Because well, because you're always right with Arolite.

And now with goodnight Mrs Russell, starring Miss Betty Davis with Elliot Reed, Arolite hopes once again to keep you in... Suspen! There's no escaping now. He hasn't said a word for ten minutes. I know he's turning over in his mind how he's going to kill me.

Arguments and reasoning are useless. It's almost dawn now. In a little while the milkman and the paper boys will be making their rounds. I'll be dead. The cafe was just half a block away from where I worked.

It was a small, pleasant little place, fucklessly clean, with a large plate glass window on the sidewalk. And there was always a beautiful looking roast turkey, and a juicy baked ham in the window, and you could watch Henry carve off succulent pieces of meat and arrange them into neat sandwiches, with an olive and a dab of potato salad on the plate.