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My Name is Dark Maroony and I Have Been Abducted By Aliens --Twice.

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Goldenrod

I live for the CABE
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I Hope That My Schwinn Brothers Can Hear This.
My Name is Dark Maroony and I Have Been Abducted By Aliens --Twice.

By Ray Spangler and Al Blum

During my first abduction, I was trapped in a bright room where a brutish Evil Doer removed my Whizzer motor kit. Then I was left for dead for fifty years in Ohio. Sometimes, I was passed around like an Eskimo's wife. * I lived on the memory of how l rolled at the speed of a tornado and barked down hills.
Just a few days ago, I was ruthlessly dismembered and forced into solitary confinement within two cardboard rectangles. I passed out and then tried to sleep until I saw daylight. The IQ level must be low in Illinois. My message of distress went unread. I was then probed and washed by two wrinkled and calloused older aliens. Then I got my fenders massaged with a Joe Cargola roller. The two, timeworn Boomers probed and tickled every one of my nooks and crannies. I was helpless and unable to ward off their improper advances. After my wheels were bolted back on, I tried to make a break for it but the virile, hyper-masculine, alien (wearing the black hat) held onto me with his powerful, muscular grip. The other one worked feverously and hung a Whizzer kit all over me, hiding some of my scars. It must have been well hung because I sparked to life. I can’t tell if they used my old engine kit because its number is down by my family jewelry.
I soon smelled like the two aliens who whooped with joy when my power plant rumbled to life. These two creatures seem rather dim because they kept forgetting what they went downstairs to get, but I soon scooted around the hard, black circle as fast as I did in my youth.
Now I stand in a line of recently-painted Schwinn Stallions. I am slowly getting an inferiority complex but I know that I am loved as a rare and lucky survivor. One of the oldest Schwinns whispered to me, “When the Illinois Boys get you--you stay got”, so I have settled in for a long winter’s nap, with ripe sugar plums putting out smoke rings around in my head tube. My high-born destiny has been secured.

Thanks be to the ”Alien” Classic American Bike Exchanger (CABE), who is known as John Gailey. He hovers around Pittsburg. Dark Maroony was so tightly packed that the clever little fellow couldn’t escape.

Please note: This WZ model frame was sold as just a complete bike and never had a Whizzer on it, but I never let facts stand in the way of a mediocre story.

* When Commodore Perry was making arrangements for his dash for the pole, He learned of the local saying, “If you lend out your sled it may come back broken but if you lend out your wife, she always comes back happy.” Perry didn’t want to offend the custom of bed warming or the plump Women Of The North, despite the fact that their hygiene standards and the number of fleas per person were not what he was used to. When Mrs. Perry arrived for the “reached-the-pole” ceremony, the generous husbands hung around her with thoughts of reciprocation, but the proper Victorian lady quickly became enlightened and then appalled, so there may have been some awkward private conversations, but important history was made and no sleds had been broken.

Re-printed from the National Whizzer Newsletter
 
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