Word: fors
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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The Vagabond hasn't written to you for a long time. Say, 12 OR 13 Years. Of this he is acutely aware right now. Once there was a day when Vag wrote a letter to you each Christmas. This letter was inevitably the only nit of writing he did outside...
But then, one winter, Vag made a disturbing discovery. Be found that it didn't matter whether he wrote to you at all. Incredible as it seemed just a few suggestions to Father seemed to do the trick. The presents came through fine just as ordered. And so faith in...
Why does Vag write now? Well, frankly, Santa, things aren't so good. For the past several years, the presents haven't been coming through at all well. Father has become inclined to say bluntly: "Go to hell" when Vag makes his Yuletide suggestions. More and more, Vag is finding...
Vag has been sitting here tonight, brooding over this matter while pawing the typewriter keys. Christmas is upon him--and only ties, handkerchiefs, gloves, and such stuff in prospect. Where are the days when Vag could tingle with the expectation of an electric train? Erector sets--where are they? What...
Santa, how about a new deal for the college generation? A lot of those toys are too damn good to be wasted on infants who don't know how to enjoy them properly. Frankly, Vag could use an electric train this Christmas. His roommates wouldn't laugh. They're a...