Meet My Maker the Mad Molecule [antikvár]

The Romantic Life of Alphonse A He had an athletic build and walked legs slightly parted like a cowboy. His white haired father had been a pillar of the community, sometimes carrying a small automatic for which he had a license. Alphonse was his one problem child in four. And Alphonse went through life saying often, I want to settle down, you know, have a work out once in a while, keep in good condition, get plenty of sleep, maybe spend a few months in Vermont hunting. Alphonse had a beautiful way of putting out his hand to say hello. And it went whispered he's nice, isn't he. But long before Alphonse's father died, he said to his son, your life is immoral. Alphonse standing on the carpet of his father's study, his charm hand out, saying, just prove one thing dad, that's all I'm asking, one thing where you know without a doubt I've been immoral. And Alphonse's father, turning a pencil in thin fingers behind his desk, said 'What about all the speeding fines I've had to pay for you, it was lucky they didn't get you on a drunk charge, what were you doing with perfume all over you.' Alphonse in spring seersucker, scuffing one buckskin shoe with the sole of the other, 'Look Dad, they would have got me on a drunk charge but I put Lila's perfume over me so they couldn't smell it.' 'You flaunt the law.' 'Dad everyone flaunts the law.' 'That's no excuse for a son of mine.' These meetings mostly monthly had happened right through college. In the same book lined professional room 7