Sam This Is You

God damn for blast off. X-5, 4, 3, 2, X-1, fire. From the far horizons of the unknown, come transcribed tales of new dimensions in time and space. These are stories of the future. Adventures in which you'll live in a million could be years on a thousand maybe worlds.

The National Broadcasting Company, in cooperation with Galaxy's science fiction magazine presents X, X, X, X, X, X. Minus, Linus, Linus, Linus, Linus, Linus. 1, 1, 1, 1. Tonight's story, Sam This is You, by Murray Lionster If I were you, I wouldn't believe a word at this story.

I'm still not sure if Rosie does and as a matter of fact, I'm not so sure if I do myself and that's going on some because it happened to me. And if I can't believe it, well who can?

I suppose it could have happened to anybody, although on the other hand, maybe it couldn't have happened to nobody. And that's pretty mixed up, so maybe I'd better begin at the beginning. And in this case, that's not so easy as it sounds.

For one thing, there's the question of where is the beginning? Well, anyways, I'm Sam Yoda. I'm a telephone lineman for the Batesville and Rappahontic telephone company. I got into that line of work because I was in a wire platoon during the war.

I've been up more trees in the art dance forest in Belgium than anybody except maybe a couple of squirrels and they didn't have to string telephone wires. I guess it started because Rosie, she was my girl Rosie, she thought I lacked ambition.

And also get up and go. Anytime you say honey, except it's one of those jitterbug things and I can't jitter much. I don't mean dance, I mean stick tortotiveness. Honey, that's ridiculous. A telephone lineman has more stick-totiveness than anybody, or he'd fall right off the pole.