The Fun-Est Time He Ever Had
April, 1960
The other day a new office boy brought me my mail. He was a clean-cut lad and impeccably dressed. His manner was neither obsequious nor too forward as his eyes traveled over my office, assaying the quarters he expected to take over from me within a matter of months, and his answers to my words of greeting and inquiries concerning his background (B.A. in journalism; yes, this was his first job) were models of grammar, rhetoric and diction. When I was alone again, an odd thing happened: memory tug...
