Golden Shell! Go there yourself!

Golden Shell! Go there yourself!

"Golden Shell!" I scream

“Go there yourself!” he splutters

Mr. Bruggle can't hardly hear it
thunder.

But I didn't know that, the first
time he drives in. I flash my "wel-
come" smile and he says, "Check
the oil."

"You're low," I report, in a min-
ute.

"Then I don't need any," he
answers.

"No, no"-I shout-"It's way
down!"

"Who's a clown?" he frowns
back at me.

I sail on, louder, while people
passing by stop to listen.

"It's not only low, but you need
oil that flows fast. When you start

your engine, if your oil is sluggish,
it don't get up out of the crank-
case-"

"I am NOT cranky!" he shouts,
mad by now.

I struggle on: "Look, you only
have to pay 25¢ for a quart of
Golden Shell Oil-GOLDEN
SHELL," I scream.

"You go there yourself," he
splutters, and drives off.

That's how I got in bad with
Mr. Bruggle and had to write him
a letter to explain things. I got a
chance to tell him how fast Golden
Shell flows, too-without him
shoutin' back at me. Now we're
good friends, and he calls me the
slick salesman-get it?

Sincerely,