"Hey
there, Oliver" he said, opening the door. "Big day--Foundry Goodbean!"
"I brought some bagels," Oliver said.
George rubbed his hands together. "Come see."
Near a brick wall, a thirty gallon grease drum stood on a sheet of
asbestos-like material. Two copper pipes made a right angle to its
base. One came from a propane tank in a corner; one was connected to an
air blower driven by an electric motor. "Ta da!" George said, lifting
off a thick top that had a hole in its center. Oliver looked down into
the drum. "I used a stovepipe for a form--cast refractory cement around
it." The drum was solid cement around the space where the stovepipe had
been.
"Slick city," Oliver said.
George picked up a small object from a table. "The Flying Lady," he
said. He held it between his thumb and forefinger and swooped it
through the air. Oliver looked closely at a wax figure of a trapeze
artist. Her brown arms were held out; her back was arched.
"Wonder Woman."
"I've got to make the mold," George said, "burn out the investment."
"Investment?"
"Goopy stuff that packs around The Lady. Then I fire it in a kiln. The
wax burns and disappears, leaving a hard ceramic mold.
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