Contribution: I'm not sure whether my mouth is big or my foot is small, at any rate, I keep putting the latter in the former. The latest instance was inspired by my "brilliant" policy of publishing all contributions, a policy which will now be slightly revised. Case in point: Joanne Scarborough's contribution, which I previously promised to put in this issue. The problem with her donation is not the writing--she writes extremely well, as you will see--the problem is with the subject matter. The subject matter is definitely taboo... it is about me. Being a modest editor by nature, I have omitted the last two paragraphs of her first article, which dwell excessively on the better side of my character. So here it is, the uncensored remains of Joanne Scarborough's article--
WHAT IS A SULLY?
In the last issue of "Foam-Fare," Seaweed Sully disclaimed any relationship to our own Sully. This quite confused me, for I was under the impression that both Sullys were the same man. Perhaps it is Sully and not me that is confused. He is probably the same man, but with different personalities. Let's find out who or what Sully really is. First there is the Sully we Pattonites know and love. He's the guy with the striped shirt and purple letter jacket, a stop watch in one hand and somebody else's towel in the other, and a rather long, lanky body adorned with a Miss Clairol looking thatch of white hair. He'll be in the water working with Mary Lou one minute and sitting on the side with Stick Szuba the next. Sometimes between heats, Sully, Mark and Abdul will raise their voices in song to bring a little musical enjoyment into our dreary lives. Sully is also the Hawk's personal spy. He finds out exactly what we don't want to do, tells Harry, and then Harry makes u do exactly that. On Sundays he is in the pool (over) -3- playing water polo. When there is a meet, he's our official pep talk giver. Sully sure is a great guy!--end quote (for a whole copy write: Black Market Inc., Cosa Nostra, Devil's Island. Enclose $5 and never mind the return address. This last piece is more appropriate. It was found etched into the locker room walls (signed "J. Scarborough") and will undoubtedly earn her the title: "Poet laureate of the shower stalls."
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