Princeton Day School - Link Yearbook (Princeton, NJ)

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The bear, emerging drowsily from his cave in the late hours of the morn- ing, collided with the hippopotamus. You fat oai, grunted the hippopotamus, look out. The bear, who was not clumsy at all, but who had, rather, a deli- cacy of another sort entirely, snorted good-naturedly, Look who's talking - Minnesota Fats himself, to the hippopotamus, who was originally from Duluth. The hippopotamus thought the bear exceedingly rude and not understanding that such was the nature of the beast, he remarked angrily, I had come to pay a call but I think now that I shall go and see the elephant instead. ls that a prom ise or a threat? inquired the bear innocently. The hippopotamus rumbled off in a fit of rage. Hey, shouted the bear after him. How do you lmow the ele- phant's been in your refrigerator? But the hippopotamus, who had no defense against the bear's wit and who had not yet learned the trick of laughter as others had, was already out of range. By the footprints in the cheesecake, sighed the bear, but realizing that his audience was an unappreciative lot anyway, he sauntered off in the direction of his cave. The hippopotamus turned for a part- ing shot. You think you're pretty funny, huh? Moral: If the shoe fits, put it in your mouth. David Mack L.-

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l Allison Gilbert The tamarin lived a calm and smiling life with her family in the jungle. She be- longed to that special breed Qof the species: marmoset- l. MIDASD which has nails in- stead of claws, and she painted them with a see-through color. It was just any day that year, and she was busy eating sacred flowers and singing songs in Spanish. Arthur, the angry young anteater, came upon the tree, and generally gave her grief, proclaiming that she had a lack of social conscience, sitting there, eating flowers when all the world was green and rotting from the horrible reign of this shameless and corrupt. . . The tamarin was perturbed. She stopped eating flowers, finishing only the last one, tastefully and pensively. That evening at seven, she had a date with Arthur, who, when she spoke to him about it and asked why, said this: You know, your old family name, far back on the tree, is Midas. And Midas has a special touch, I've seen it all along, and. . . CThat's the part of what he said that's necessary for the story.D Agony returned, and he began, How can you. . . he said, when all the World is green and rotting. . . just then, she stepped down from the tree, and going over to the brush beside his feet, she touched it. It turned to gold. She touched the trees, the leaves, the sky, and finally Arthur, all with gold. Then Agony went away. He saw it her way. Moral: The Agony turns Ecstasy when you only see the gold. 62

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Strapping on his goggles, the flying squirrel launched effortlessly on to the nearest air current. Leveling off and cruising smoothly at a steady 89 m. p. h. , the flying squirrel had time to reflect on his singular merits. ln truth, he had a great deal to be proud of. He was a superior aviator - no one could dispute that. He had reduced flying to a simple science, having fed into an IBM 360, his statistics on air pressure per cubic foot C2 to the 7th powerj, velocity, descent curves and margin of error. He was quite a popular fellow, renowned for his sense of humor and listing among his many conquests a pert blond squirrel who had given him the use of her Fokker Triplane. The flying squirrel was reflecting thus when he crashed into a large pine tree. Groggily coming to several hours later, the flying squir- rel recalled dimly that the plane was not his own. Ah, he sighed, the mere vicissitudes of life. . . Moral: Pride goeth before a crash? Bill Power