Disciple Amazes Sage of the Age

The Sage of he Age crawled from his straw pallet and struggled towards the Sanctum door as he had for the last 200 years. He rubbed the opiate ashes from his left eyelid, which he opened wide enough to perceive the Canton Trust Company calender dangling on a nail above the door.

"Saturday again," he observed.

Cutting his way through the murky gloom of the Sanctum Sanctorum, he stumbled over the wizened oriental as he approached his Ouija board, and he watched the stylus as the message of the gods poured through it. The moving finger wrote thus and having writ, moved on:

MEMO: RE Hu Flung Huey, ocC

I am out to Buck tradition, I Conant stop myself, and I trust I don't o-Fenn-d tradition by saying Watson my mind, I've wondered, Kennedy-ciple write as well as his teacher. There are two Sides to the question and I'm in Dyer need of an answer.

Number one Disciple

"Insa-Borden-ation," screamed the oracle, "and on my birthday, too!"