hood, with bubble gum,http://www.foampositesforcheap.us/. A cent apiece. There had been a series of them, each card depicting a different horror.
"A dear friend of mine," the major had gone on, "collects 'Horrors of War.' He lacks but one, now,coach canada outlet. The Sinking of the Panay. He has offered a substantial sum of money for that particular card."
"Flip cards," Childan had said suddenly.
"Sir,Homepage?"
"We flipped them. There was a head and a tail side on each card,http://www.coachoutletcanada.net/." He had been about eight years old. "Each of us had a pack of flip cards. We stood, two of us, facing each other. Each of us dropped a card so that it flipped in the air. The boy whose card landed with the head side up, the side with the picture, won both cards." How enjoyable to recall those good days, those early happy days of his childhood.
Considering, Major Humo had said, "I have heard my friend discuss his 'Horrors of War' cards, and he has never mentioned this. It is my opinion that he does not know how these cards actually were put to use."
Eventually, the major's friend had shown up at the store to hear Childan's historically firsthand account. That man, also a retired officer of the Imperial Army, had been fascinated.
"Bottle caps!" Childan had exclaimed without warning.
The Japanese had blinked uncomprehendingly.
"We used to collect the tops from milk bottles. As kids. The round tops that gave the name of the dairy. There must have been thousands of dairies in the United States. Each one printed a special top."
The officer's eyes had glinted with the instinct. "Do you possess any of your sometime collection, sir?"
Naturally, Childan did not. But. . . probably it was still possible to obtain the ancient, long-forgotten tops from the days before the war when milk had come in glass bottles rather than throwaway pasteboard cartons.
And so, by stages, he had gotten into the business. Others had opened similar places, taking advantage of the evergrowing Japanese craze for Americana. . . . but Childan had always kept his edge.
"Your fare," the chink was saying, bringing him
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