I must have been about thirteen years old and I had this friend, Bob. Yes, another Bob. It was a very popular name for boys born in the 1940's. Anyway, that particular summer, we started writing stories about ourselves. In the stories, we were always in dire situations. We inevitably made ourselves out to be the heroes by saving mankind in the end.
Bob was also a very good artist, and is a well-known artist and illustrator to this day. On the other hand, I "could not draw flies." We made our stories into comic book format. Each square, or cell, I believe they call it, had the little cloud with an arrow positioned over each figure in the story as they spoke. Those were certainly good times and I remember those days with fondness. Please visit my blog next time for more of the story.
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