It was Lee Z. Gladstone who announced himself with a “She was only a scarecrow’s daughter but, oh my, how she left all the boys raven” as he came through the office door.
He had a copy of Dime Magazine under his arm.
He slapped the weakly down on the desk.
“Thought you might want to see this, Duck Racy” he said.
Well I didn’t.
There it was on the inside, in lurid black and white with a headline that read: “Papa Rotzi, Bench Press Photog, Snaps Cereal Box Billionaire Having Dinner With All Twelve Fan Tan Dancers”.