Word: plastic
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Smoke settled in the crowded rooms, voices cracked, tempers rose, and then, the hush. The first model. Under the hot white lights she seemed put together of plastic, not flesh; skin dead-pale, so thin that when she swallowed her body trembled with the shock, she strutted and twirled as if a newly wound toy, never perspiring, only glistening prettily. Buyers scribbled on programs: nice cut, good lines, but can it be copied easily? Will it go in Passaic? The press looked frantically for trends: everything old? Anything borrowed? How about a trend toward the old and borrowed? Customers clapped...
...call home for as long as two years. It has Plexiglas windows, and inside, the temperature is kept at 80° or so and the humidity at 50%. The baby is free of confining clothes and "prisonlike" crib bars. He wears only a diaper, sleeps on a trampoline-like plastic mesh that drains away any leakage. The idea is to let him thrash about, play better and develop faster. Pop saves on baby clothes, and with less lifting, laundry and bathing, Mother's work is ever done. If all systems are not go, a battery-powered alarm buzzes loud...
...skating rinks, bowling alleys and on ski slopes made of plastic, Japanese will soon be able to play at one of Japan's most modern resorts, the San-ai Hotel on Hokkaido Island, just an hour's plane ride from Tokyo. Work on the resort began last week when slim and tireless Kiyoshi Ichimura, 62, got permission from his backers to go ahead with the ambitious project. Already one of Japan's fastest rising businessmen, whose nine companies sold $61 million worth of goods last year, Ichimura believes that "to stand still is to lose ground...
...blue-eyed, squarejawed, caramel-centered American male resist a darling little five-year-old girl abandoned by her heartless father in the lobby of a gambling casino; abandoned without a Mr. Goodbar to her name, without so much as a nickel for a Nab in her pretty little purple plastic pocketbook; abandoned in a lobby without a Coke machine, without a drinking fountain, without even a television set-and only seven minutes left till Huckleberry Hound...
...tastes, how it is to wake up in a strange bed when it has snowed through the night. The author does this so well that the reader can find himself at the point of tears as he is prodded to recall (where are you now. Gwendolyn?) the kind of plastic cigarette case that high school girls used...