Custom Built Blond

The signal oil program? No Whistler. That whistle is your signal for the signal oil program? The Whistler. I am the Whistler. And I know many things before I walk by night.

I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. Yes friends, it's time for the Whistler.

And remember that every traffic signal remind you, with new signal gasoline, you do go farther than ever. Look for the familiar big yellow and black circle sign that identifies those popular signal service stations throughout the West from Canada to Mexico.

And now the Whistler's strange story. Custom-built Blonde. It was past midnight when Jerry Kuhn and left the cocktail bar with a tall blonde in the mean coat. On the way out, he gave the high sign to Red Stafford and Shorty Burton, sitting idly at the bar waiting for the tip off.

And as he guided her out the front door, he could see them quietly get off their stools and prepare to leave. Jerry chuckled softly to himself. The blonde was dumb and rich. The diamond pendant around her neck ought to bring ten thousand at least.

And he'd mentally appraise the square cut emerald on her right hand at five thousand more. Yes, the blonde was custom built, made to order. She wouldn't talk after they'd relieved her of the jury. She'd be afraid her husband might find out what she's been doing while he was out of town.

He helped her into the car and fumbled with the keys until he was sure red and short he had reached the other car and were ready to follow. The blonde meanwhile was having yourself a great time.