The original, 1-page short story version of
POWER IS MORE THAN ONE!
Copyright © 1974 by Roger M. Wilcox. All rights reserved.
(writing on this story began 15-Dec-1974)
The original draft was written on a mechanical typewriter, single-spaced,
with arbitrary margins, before I'd learned about those pesky little things
called "paragraphs." All spellings, punctuation, overly long ellipses,
capitalizations, colors, etc. are as in the original.
Many sentences begin with a word in ALL CAPS, because on
this early typewriter I was in the habit of using the Shift Lock key to write
capital letters — it eliminated the strain of holding down the Shift key
while hunting for the letter I wanted to peck — and more often than not
I would forget to disengage Shift Lock before typing the rest of the word.
Unfortunately, without scanning it in and presenting an image, I can't really
convey all the typewriter overstrikes and formatting oddities I had to slog
through in the original.
You have been warned.
CHAPTER 1: I WILL FIGHT BACK!..............?............................
One night, I went to bed, and in the morning, my $404 was stolen! I called
the police, but I had forgotten, my telephone system was'nt connected yet.
SO I had to get him myself. BUT, I had forgotten, someone that age and size
could win me any time. So I lost. THEN I got one of my friends, but he was
still to powerfull.Then I got a couple more (for a total of 4 friends) &
started fighting, but he was 'still' to powerful. Then I got a few more
(for a total now of 7 friends) but he was "still" too powerful. THEN I got 9
more friends (for a total now of 16 friends) and we were too powerful for
him. At last, the fight was on. POW! SLAM! BAM! OOF! KRAM! AND WE
WON! and
got my $404 back. And then I gave 1 dollar to each of my 15 friends (for
a total of $389 left).
THE END!
A 'WILCOX' PRESENTATION!
Author's notes from 2013:
- This story was intended as a kind of public service announcement about the
power of friendship. It was pure fantasy. I never had an army of friends I
could rally to my cause like a street gang. In fact, I was the outcast.
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