"He'll never know how close he
came to getting a space boot in the face when he woke us up this
morning. Oh, man! Was I tired!"
"Stop complaining, will you?" snarled Roger. "All I've heard from you
two space crawlers is gripes and complaints."
"If I wasn't so tired, Roger," said Astro, "I'd give you something to
gripe about. A flat lip!"
"Knock it off, Astro," said Tom wearily. The role of keeping them apart
was getting tiresome.
"The trouble with you, Astro," pursued Roger, "is that you think with
your muscles instead of your head."
"Yeah, I know. And you've got an electronic calculator for a brain. All
you have to do is push a button and you get the answers all laid out for
you."
They had reached their quarters now and were stripping off their
sweat-soaked uniforms in preparation for a cool shower.
"You know, Roger," continued Astro, "you've got a real problem ahead of
you."
"Any problem you think I have is no problem at all," was the cool reply.
"Yes, it is," insisted Astro. "When you're ready for your first hop in
space, you won't be able to make it!"
"Why not?"
"They don't have a space helmet in the Academy large enough to fit that
overinflated head of yours!"
Roger turned slowly and spoke to Tom without looking at him. "Close the
door, Corbett!"
"Why?" asked Tom, puzzled.
"Because I don't want any interruptions.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52