Extry! Extry! Child’s head grafted on man’s legs! Shoes stolen from Dad! Origin of torso still unknown! Read all about it!

A vanished breed, the Newspaper Boy. They neither hawk nor toss, except in some quaint hamlets where the publisher’s son rises once a week to put an unrequested copy of the local paper on the doorsteps. Pity. I was a newspaper boy, and a very bad one; it taught me that the world depends on people who get up early on Sundays, and that I did not want to be one of them. The trick is to be the guy who pays them.