And Dave handed him his extended-circle of a container that wouldn’t break or bend, and the genie went out the way lightning disappears, leaving a bright stain on Dave’s eyes for a few seconds, and far out in the Arabian Gulf Dave saw a splash and figured that the container was seaborne out there somewhere.
Heading, I am driven to suppose—and after a good deal more time, to be sure—for Aladdin.
Now, all this is strange enough, Stan, but it is not the end of the story. The end of the story is a praiseful, even worshipful description of Dave’s son, Dave the Leader-and-then-some.
It is a description of a Cro-Magnon man.