Avon Fantasy Reader No. 8 — page 73: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ZERO HOUR | nas 69 ing now. It’s getting late in the day and, if you want-to have your Invasion before your supper bath, you’d better jump.” “Do I haye to take a bath?” growled Mink. “You do. Why is it children hate water? No matter what age you live in children hate water behind the ears!” “Drill says I won’t have to take baths,” said Mink. “Oh, he does, does he?” 7 ag . “He told all the kids that. No more baths. And we can stay up till ten o’clock and go to two televisor shows on Saturday ’stead of one!” | “Well, Mr. Drill better mind his p’s and q’s. I'll call up his mother and—" Mink went to the door. “We're having trouble with guys like Pete Britz and Dale Jerrick. They’re growing up. They make fun. They’re worse than parents. They just won’t believe in Drill. They're so snooty, cause they re growing up. You’d think they’d know better. They were little only a coupla years ago. I hate them worst. We'll kill them first.” “Your father and Ff, lastr~ “Drill says you’re dangerous. Know why? ’Cause you don’t believe in Mar- tians! They’re going to let ws run the world. Well, not just us, but the kids over in the next block, too. I might be queen.” She opened the door. “Mom?” <Yesr™ | | ‘“What’s—lodge .. . ick?” “Logic? Why, dear, logic is knowing what things are true and not true. ; “Te mentioned that,” said Mink. “And what’s im—pres—sion—abler” It took her a minute to say it. “Why, it means—” Her mother looked at the floor, laughing gently. “It means—to be a child, dear.” “Thanks for lunch!” Mink ran out, then. stuck her head back in. “Mom, I'll be sure you won’t be hurt, much, really!” “Well, thanks,” said Mom. Slam went the door. —— At four o’clock the audio-visor buzzed. Mrs. Morris flipped the tab. “Hello, Helen!” she said, in welcome. : “Hello, Mary. How are things in New York?” “Fine, how are things in Scranton? You look tired.” “So do you. The children. Underfoot,” said Helen. Mrs. Morris sighed, “My Mink, too. The super Invasion.” Helen laughed. “Are your kids playing that game, too?” “Lord, yes. Tomorrow it'll be geometrical jacks and motorized hopscotch. Were we this bad when we were kids in “48?” “Worse. Japs and Nazis. Don’t know how my parents put up with me. | Tomboy.” 7 ? 3 “Parents learn-to “shut their ears.” ‘ h i ~ COMME DOOKSAEO)