Nick Cassavettes had manned the Rhodes Brewery stock room for sixteen long years after his U.S. Army hitch.  During that stretch he had ordered comapny stationery, typewriter ribbons, paper clips, etcetera, etcetera.  Management had treated him well with pats on his scrawny back, and more importatnly, timely raises and generous Christmas bonuses.

Still, after about thierteen years or so, NIck had started to think there had to be more to hismmortal like than fire-brewed Rhodes Beer.

Trouble is,he could never type his two-week notice to sound the way he wanted.  It had to read grateful, but decisive nonetheless.

By the time his sisteenth Chrismtas with the place roled around,he had made up his mind and ther was no changing it.

Nick rolled the notice out of his Olivetti and headed for the brewhouse.

To wit, he was staying with the place as long as they wanted him and he ordered two Rhodes Lites at the marble bar just to prove it.