Dream World February 1957 by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

Then came SCAT’s big game with M.S.U. itself. Last year M.S.U. had been voted the nation’s outstanding football team in the Associated Press poll. It had gone undefeated in nine games. It had clobbered the Pacific Coast champion in the Rose Bowl, 21-0. It had gone through its first three games without a blemish, but of course not as impressively as SCAT had. The newspapers said M.S.U, faced the cream of the nation’s gridiron talent, while SCAT’s schedule was not exactly loaded with talented opposition. The sports pundits wrote long columns debating whether or not the Neon Ghost would be a standout when facing M.S.U.’s line, which averaged 240 pounds and was anchored by All-American center Milo Milolovich, who tipped the beam at an even 276, and wore that number proudly on his jersey to prove it. Last year, the pundits also pointed out, M.S.U. had defeated SCAT, 55-0, They established M.S.U. as a one-point favorite while the whole sports-minded nation awaited the outcome of the game breathlessly.

On the eve of the big game, Bigger T. Thaycum knocked on the door of Barlow’s dormitory room and waited there with a .45 automatic in his hand. Barlow opened the door and Thaycum poked the muzzle of the gun at his ear. “This is very embarrassing,” Thaycum said by way of explanation, “but you see—”

“I have to get my sleep,”

Barlow said with an indifferent yawn. The gun meant nothing to him. He knew he would be able to dodge the bullets. He started to close the door.

“Wait!” hissed Thaycum in a furious whisper. “In case you get any ideas of pulling that on-again off-again act, I thought I should let you know that we have Penelope.”

Barlow opened the door. “Come in,” he said.

Thaycum and his gun went inside. Barlow closed the door. “As I was saying,” Thaycum went on in obvious embarrassment, “as you probably know, my father, Bigger T. Thaycum, II, is a big promoter.”

“So I have heard,” admitted Barlow reluctantly.

“My father,” went on Thaycum, “the big promoter Bigger T. Thaycum, II, after whom I am named, as you may know, has placed a bet of seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars on M.S.U. If they lose he is ruined. Therefore we have kidnapped Penelope to assure you also will come willingly. We have an airplane waiting. Since Penelope is in our clutches, and I assure you we are quite ruthless, may I put this gun away?”

“You may,” said Barlow despondently.

They went outside, where a surplus DC-3 was waiting, a discreet pilot at the controls. Moments later they were winging across the countryside toward a Midwestern city several hundred miles from SCAT stadium, where Penelope had been taken.

Early the following morning, sleepless and distraught, Barlow was delivered to Bigger Thaycum, II, and his associates. Bigger Thaycum, III, was a man of his word: for there, unharmed, was Penelope Lewitt. Our hero embraced her, but she cried bitterly and could not be consoled. “To think,” she wailed, “it is because of me that State College of Agricultural Techniques will tumble from the ranks of the unbeaten.

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