The Project Gutenberg EBook of Get Out of Our Skies!, by E. K. Jarvis

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: Get Out of Our Skies!

Author: E. K. Jarvis

Release Date: October 6, 2008 [EBook #26795]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GET OUT OF OUR SKIES! ***

Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

_The long-suffering public went along with billboards and
singing commercials; they tolerated half a dozen sales
pitches in a half-hour radio or TV show; they suffered
stoically through the "hard-sell" and the "soft-sell." But
when the hucksters turned the wild blue yonder into a vast
television screen, they howled----_

GET OUT OF OUR SKIES!

By E. K. JARVIS

On the first cloudy day in November, Tom Blacker, the shining light of
Ostreich and Company, Public Relations Counsellors, placed a call to a
shirtsleeved man on the rooftop of the Cannon Building in New York City.

His message brought an immediate response from the waiting engineer, who
flicked switches and twirled dials with expert motions, and brought into
play the gigantic 50,000-watt projector installed on the peak.

In his own office, Tom paced the floor in front of the three-window
exposure, watching the heavens for the results.

They weren't long in coming.

The eyes came first. Eyes the size of Navy dirigibles, with pupils of
deep cerulean blue, floating against the backdrop of the gray cumulus.
The long lashes curled out almost a hundred feet from the lids. Then the
rest of Monica Mitchell's famous face appeared: the flowing yellow
locks, the sensuously curved lips, parted moistly from even white teeth.
From chin to hairline, the projected image above the city was close to a
thousand feet in diameter.

Then, as if the floating countenance wasn't alarming enough, the ruby
lips began to move. Monica's sweet-sultry voice, like the first
drippings from a jar of honey, overcame the city sounds, and began
crooning the syrupy strains of _Love Me Alone_. Which happened, by no
coincidence