At The Post

Countdown for Blastoff, X-5, 4, 3, 2, X-1, Fire. From the far horizons of the unknown, come 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 science fiction magazine presents X. Tek, Tek, Tek systemic DESTINES- DESTINES- DESTINES- DESTINES- One, One, One tonight at the post by H. L. Gold!

When I committed the Blue Ribbon on 49th Street west of Broadway I could tell right away nobody told Doc Hawkins about my misfortune Doc! moniteonereally writes a daily miracle column for the racing forum where Celebrating is being sprung from the alcoholic war.

You got one look at me and he choked on a piece of guviltifish. What happened? What happened? Look at that. Cluckers become a character. Now I'll lay you off, Doc. Look at that, a grey-flannel suit of black tie.

Clucker, where is your purple and green-jack sports jacket? Where are your two-tone suede shoes? Where you become a character? That was Zelda's idea. She wanted to make a gentleman on him. Wanted to why you two kids got married just before they took my snakes away Don't tell me you but Already you don't know doc. No what happened?

What was right after you try to take the warts off the fire hydrant that Zelda started hearing voices It got real bad. How bad? She's a Glendale center upstate. I just came back from visiting wanted the psychiatrist give you a diagnosis Yeah, I got it memorized Tony at Mancha-Prika.

Oh, rough. Very rough. The outlook is never good in such cases. Maybe they can't help her, but I will. Now, Clark, are you a race hander-capper? You run the best tip sheet on Broadway. But people are not horses.