My father used to get these looks. Not all the time, but once in a while he’d drift off, then turn to me and mutter, “Chainsaw, one day you’ll be known to the world. Not through radio or papers, but something called the inter-web. Folks will turn to you for advice. Logic, even.”
Sure, Dad.
Decades later, I’m digging through his old footlocker and there it is — a July 1955 issue of Playthings magazine. I flip through toy ads and industry gossip, when suddenly my stomach tightens.
On the page, in full vintage glory, is the Jet “Rocket” Space Ship ad. And staring right back at me through the porthole… is me. Chainsaw Chicken.
Printed in a magazine decades before I existed.
Maybe Dad wasn’t crazy. Maybe he really did see the future. Or maybe destiny just comes cheap — $4.98 plus shipping.
He always ended conversation with me by adding, “And take off that mask”… But not this time.