Pulp Fiction, 1943 · page 32 of 100
12 Sports Aces, May 1943 — page 32: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Description This page is story prose from a pulp fiction magazine titled "12 Sports Ages" (page 30). The text depicts the climactic finish of a track race where the protagonist Larry defeats a competitor named Cogan by running the final yards with his eyes closed, using practiced technique. After winning with a time of "four six, even," Larry reveals to his waiting girlfriend Peg that he's retiring from running to pursue sales work. The page concludes with a wartime public service advertisement encouraging readers to invest in U.S. War Savings Bonds and Stamps, featuring an illustration of an unsafe piggy bank.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
30 . 12 SPORTS ACES 6001 Be DB Ore Pra her Gor Ger Ge~ d+ Drees Hoe Gras Ore Pen Hoe Ger Sener Dee Be - De De oF Go Doe Geo Dee Bree Bre Bee Be Per Bs Doe Soe Gor Ber Per Bes Pes Poe S eee B® oe OB Grr Berdee s as he climbed the heels of the guy ahead. The screams were a thousand miles away to his ears—and the only substitute lay inside of him somewhere. “Glide,” he told himself. “Glide on in!” He lurehed, stumbling. Instinct yanked him back into rhythm. The muffled tu- mult about him grew and grew. It was Cogan coming. The littie truck horse was sprinting beside him, surging forward. The famous kick. Larry gauged the yards to the tape and looked at Cogan. Something told him the guy couldn’t make it. No man could hold such a sprint with this race behind him. Cogan’s face was grotesque with ef- fort and pain. Larry Jooked at the tape. He was in the center of the wide smooth track, still striding and gliding in, but it wouldn’t last if he kept watching Cogan. Cogan was folding. Larry was folding himself and he was going to flop on his face if he fumbled once slightly. Fifteen more yards and now for the final cog of his plan. He closed his eyes and kept on rolling tapeward in black- ness. It was edd, running with your eyes clamped shut, running to beat a man, but not looking at him. He did not fall because for hours, in practice, he had run like this; at first on grass and falling often, but the knack had come with grudging slowness. And now for fifteen yards he knew he could run on a line that didn’t vary an inch from his target. He rolled on in darkness holding that stride. He felt the soft snap of the tape us it broke and dangled around him. Then he was lurching, falling. A pair of arms clamped around him, hoisted him up. He sat down on the grass and hunched over weakly, lungs heaving. When he came out of the dressing room an hour later, Peg was waiting for him. The expression in her eyes and face lifted the weariness bodily from him. She said, “There’s your record, Larry.” “Four six, even,” he beamed. “I can’t believe it. Give these kids something to shoot at, I reckon.” Her face was grave. “For a long while, Larry.” “Look,” he said, “let’s go out and get mildly plastered.” “Larry!” Her eyes were wide pools of surprise. “The new world’s champion!” “I’m all through running. I’ve been selling the stuff for six years and I never tried it. It’s time I learned if it’s any good. After all—a world’s champion sales- man. Pgs That aoundaa conceited, he thought, and wondered idly how to revise it, His shoulders came up and his chest came out; he let it ride. “Champion salesman. All right, why not?” T™H3 ee BANK'S UNSAFES money in United States: ‘Wa rR SG | BONDS AND STAMPS! | Eomichooks