Pool_2

The trophies were, unfortunately, also invisible, mere paper IOUs for trophies which never, never ever, were actually delivered to the winners. That is, except once, by devils. On that one occasion, the guards, not wanting to be once again embarrassed as deliverers of somebody else's lie, chipped in to get plastic trophies. In the process of getting them engraved by a catalog service somewhere in Kansas, an idea bubbled up from the mischief that percolated beneath the cement of Charles Darling. Photos. How about kids holding trophies in the newspaper? The news that trophies had actually been delivered, as promised, brought an angry Lou Dinfall all the way from city hall to see just what money had been "diverted." "Who did this?" the recreation superintendent demanded. A few carefully staged pictures of little kids with some of Frank's old National and State Championship trophies, were hanging all over the guard house. One trophy twice the size of the winner was shown in the Black Vigil. It showed Frank, a small kid with a prodigious trophy, massively grinning lifeguards and no politicos. Vigil was initially reluctant to give credit to the system for anything positive, let alone fabricated, but yielded to it's mischief potential. "We assumed it was your idea, sir," Fred complemented. "They were splendid! Damn, must be three thousand dollars in semiprecious metal alone in this one, not to mention the marble and alabaster." "Marble? Who the fuck spent my money? Show me the expenditure! That's MY money! You give out PAPER! See?" screaming and waving a random piece of paper from the desk as the P.A. microphone was left on. A phone call from the mayor, who could hear this from City Hall, brought him down a few decibels as the P.A., turned up, could carry off the mountain all the way across the city below, to South Mountain.