The Beachcomber

Alice saw the Beachcomber as a glorious hunk of man; Maxwell saw him as a super being from the future. Tragically, he was both.... Maxwell and the girl started their weekend on Thursday, in Venice. Friday, they went to Paris, Saturday to Nice, and on Sunday, they were bored. Alice pouted at him across the breakfast table. "Vernon, let's go someplace else," she said. "Sure," said Maxwell, not too graciously. "Don't you want your bug eggs?" Alice pushed them away. "If I ever did, I don't now. Why do you have to be so unpleasant in the morning?" The eggs were insect eggs, all right, but they were on the menu as oeufs Procyon Thibault, and three of the half-inch brown spheres cost about 1,000 times their value in calories. Maxwell was well-paid as a scriptwriter for the North American Unit Ministry of Information—he bossed a gang of six gagmen on the Cosmic Cocktail show—but he was beginning to hate to think about what these five days were costing him. "Where do you want to go?" asked Maxw