Word: vag
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...cool for June, Vag thought, as he came out of the Harvard Square kiosk and put down his B-4 bag. He lighted a cigarette, picked up his bag and cautiously waited for an opening in the maze of automobiles...
...nice if it stays way all summer," a cabbie was saying to his buddie, who nodded in agreement. They both knew it wouldn't and so did Vag. He knew it would be hot, damned hot, and he thought of those stifling summer afternoons when the streets would be deserted and quite and the asphalt would be wet with the curved lines of tire treads...
There were raccoon coats with built-in hip flasks, plaid-seated convertibles, plenty of Canadian Club; Vag was mentally immersed in a maelstrom of all night parties and lost weekends. He saw the crowds and colors of November Saturday afternoons and smelled the mixed aroma of burning leaves, Chanel, and rye hovering over Soldiers Field. Pretty girls there would be by the score, by the six dozen--the "golden girls." The bright lights and gay scenes revolved in perfect time to the Six Little Tailors, and for once, Vag smiled at the jingle...
...bacchanalian thought pattern was disturbed by the bells, which maddeningly stopped after playing three-quarters of their tune. Vag vaguely remembered something about a ten o'clock class, and hoisting himself up, he moved his tie one quarter of an inch to the right, straightened the little gold bird on his lapel, and started off with a long-ago-and-faraway look on his face. Floating up Holyoke Street and across Mass. Avenue, F. Scott Fitzvag entered a strangely quiet Yard. Harvard Hall, his destination, was deserted. It is now Monday morning at ten o'clock, said Vag...
...came out from behind the cloud. Vag glanced at the figures scurrying up and down the Widener front porch. Two weeks to exams, he mused, and. . . "Reading Period," he screamed to the squirrels and pigeons. It wasn't too late. He started off rapidly toward Widener, kept on past it, dodged across Mass. Avenue, bounded down Holyoke Street and raced up the stairs to his room. "The Great Gatsby" was on the rug where he had left it, and there was an inch of amber left in the bottle on the mantlepiece. F. Scott Fitzvag held the bottle...