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W

THE FEMININE

EE

VIEWPOINT

by and about women

The Last of e The Masks with profuse Apologies to Oren Boyton & a Couple of Other Cats who may be hiding under Local Pianos

by w

Lou McLean

Masks were it man, I mean the word was masks mean the word was masks . . . we were all sitting in the parlor up at Spider's, which had been the Vermouth Bottle's. The Spider was our leader, and I mean the Spider was with it-I mean if anyone had masks it was the Spider. For over a year now we had eaten masks, breathed masks, talked masks... LIVED masks-man, I mean we were masked . . . we had it all over Zorro, the Lone Ranger, even the cat that spent some time in an iron one. We were so far out in masks at that time, that we scarcely knew ourselves, let alone the other members of the group. masks were thirty miles from Endville . . . the most... we were quite gone in masks.

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The Spider wore a huge false nose that had a big gray moustache attached to it... if you didn't know the Spider, and man, who did?... his champagne-colored chignon might have been the most confusion . . . but I remembered the Spider from way back. Underneath that moustache and that nose and that chignon was the self-same little cat that Marley had dug up at F.A.O. Schwartz's. Old Marley had gone up to Schwartz's to buy a tennis racket-she'll do things like that sometimes... a real termite, but with it man, sometimes even twice as with it as the Spider or anyone.

Old Marley had just stood with her mouth open like she does so much of the

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