HI GANG! IT'S me again. I'd like you to meet one of my colleagues. His name is Munro McDroon. Munro is the lowest form of biological classification, according to a consensus among seniors. He's a frosh. Spanning an area covering 4' 11" in either direction, Munro is typical of underclassmen, hitherto unmentioned. Reaching elbow height, Munro is placed at the disposal of his elder classmates for the express purpose of leaning upon.

Now that a mental picture has been established, I shall further your knowledge of Munro by informing you about some of his past and more recent experiences.

I RECALL WITH horror the time Munro got a burning desire to reduce the size of his feet (size 16, double D) by binding them as the Japanese did in ages past. He was hospitalized for cutting off the circulation at his ankles. His feet were all right, it was the rest of him that was turning blue. As for his more recent activities, there is the first football game.

Groan! Munro managed by mistake to gain admittance to the football field instead of the bleachers. The coach, who now assumes full responsibility for the slight error made, put Munro in to play as the football. The truth was not discovered until Munro had advanced 15 yards into the air and flown over the goal posts for a field goal. Had it not been for his shocking‑pink, ivy league chino pants, I fear the mistake would never have been acknowledged.

IF ANYONE WISHES to express their condolences, it would be appreciated if you would address them to room A‑ill, and I will see that they are forwarded to Munro.

As for my own adventures since the last issue, I had the pleasure of attending the frosh‑soph cheerleading try‑outs and watched Veronica Biltmor, girl friend of Monro's older brother. Needless to say, her performance was unusual as she herself happens to be quite unique. She is another one of the individuals I shall refer to in the future.

I AM CONSTANTLY being re­minded of the experience that took place on the second day of school when I was chased down the hall by a far‑sighted custodian who mistook me for a mop while on his way to Mr. Frost's office to mop up the water that had come through the roof when it rained. I'm still recuperating with the help of dog biscuits

Maine West has been blessed with a new traffic director. BARB CLARK got out of her car and started directing traffic to avoid being late for home room.

NEWS FLASH! Bermuda shorts, sweat shirts, sun glasses, and low cut gym shoes have become standard apparatus for DOUG WRIGHT, JOE BYERS, TIM HUNT, and DENNY OBERMAYER in their phys. ed. class until the new gym suits are available. Cool it guys, cool it!

Well, gang, here ends my tail See you at the games . . Morfit