South Paris High School - Chronicle Yearbook (South Paris, ME)

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22 THE CHRONICLE Mr. Griffith: I often wonder if I could get away with shooting a referee. Mr. Bean: I wish I could bring myself to hold high C just a fraction of a second too long. Mr. Huff and Mr. Coombs: Some day we are hoping to set all that shop ma- chinery going and then walk out and lock the door. Mr. Cunningham: And I have an un- controllable urge to repeat everything I hear. I can't wait to get out of here! Bud Colby: My car will go 180 miles per hour and stop on a dime. Cliff Crooker: Yeah? Then what hap- pens? Bud Colby: A little putty knife comes off the dash and scrapes me off the windshield. They were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa. Ray: Bet I know what you're think- ing. Lucy: Well, you certainly don't act like it. D. Dodge: Any mail, Mother? Don's mother: You have several in- vitations: one from the Johnson's, one from the McAlister's, and one from the Ui. S. Army. Miss Hall: What happened, Conductor? Why is the train stalled? Conductor: Nothing at all lady. Calm yourself. We just hit a sheep. Miss Hall: Was it on the tracks? Conductor: No, we chased it into its pen. Heard in Math class: Reno, Nevada, is a mathematical town. It specializes in short division. A sweet voice called the telephone oflice repeatedly one day to ask, What time is it now, please? Finally recognizing the voice, the oper- ator asked, Eloise, are you going' somewhere ? Nope, she said, just boiling eggs for Home Ee. A few years ago- Mr. Ellis Bean struggled into the Nor- way bus with five small children. These all yours, asked the bus driver, or is it a picnic? All mine, said our janitor, and it's no picnic! Hoping to inspire his workers with promptness and energy, Mr. Henry Mor- ton hung a number of signs reading DO IT NOW, around the factory and office. When asked some weeks later how his staff had reacted, he shook his head sadly. I don't even like to talk about it, he said. The cashier skipped with 81,0003 the head bookkeeper eloped with the best secretary I ever had: three typists asked for more money: the fac- tory workers went on strike: and the oliice boy joined the navy. John, addressing the Chronicle Staff: And now, I wish to tax your memories for a moment. Lee Murch: Good heavens, why haven't I thought of that before. Alfred Brown rushed into the doctor's office bleeding from a cut on top of his head. As the doctor prepared to treat it, he asked how it had occurred. I bit myself, said Alfred rather proud- ly. The doctor recoiled. Bit yourself on top of the head? But that's impossible! No, it isn't, grinned Alfred, You see, I climbed up on a chair to do it.

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