The Boy Who Invented The Bubble Gun - Plot & Excerpts
Enraged sounds were emerging from it. The sergeant said, “You’d better handle this, lieutenant. And maybe you ought to hold this thing with tongs. Guy named West. He’s boiling.” The lieutenant picked up his extension. “Lieutenant King speaking . . . yes, yes . . . who? . . . Mr. West? Aldrin West? . . . Yes, yes, sure Mr. West, I know who you are . . . about your boy . . . what? . . . Nineteen and a half . . . but . . . hang on a sec, sir.” He covered the mouthpiece with a palm and said, “Oh, brother, somebody boobed! Phil, let’s see those last alarms that went out. There ought to be one on the West kid.” The sergeant shuffled through a sheaf of papers, and said, “Here it is. Runaway. The alarm went out this morning. Why? What’s the matter?” The lieutenant took one glance at the sheet, murmured, “Oh Christ,” and then spoke into the telephone, “I’m sorry, Mr.
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