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The Alchemist, v. 1, issue 5, February 1941

Page 21

          I Am Positively Not Robert Bloch             21

certainly don't look like Bob."

   At this, my reflection gnashed its teeth and made as if to bite me. Gad What a face!! That yellow hair tousling down in rumpled reams, those scarlet lips like pomegranate seeds (thanx to Seabury Quinn) That slavering row of bicuspids, insterspersed with pop-corn and chewing gum. It sickened me.

   "BRADBURY," I cried. "You're not looking any too well. What's wrong?"

   My reflection belshed, murmered something about last nights blood being a little too sweet. "Editor Campbell sent back my latest story yesterday," he grinned. "It was all about one lone little man at a bargain counter in a basement with five hundred women revolving about him. I called it: 'One Against The Legion'".

   Not contented with this, Bradbury drooled into his chin trough and laughed: "But I fooled old Campbell. I sent him back a note reading, "Dear Mr. C, I have read your rejection slip and am deeply sorry that my stock is complete for the next five years, and that I must reject your masterfully written rejection. Keep up the good work, John, and don't forget --- YOUR SLIP IS SHOWING!!"

   I looked Bradbury straight in the eye. Evidently this guy was a nut. He had the kind of face that encouraged Riply.

   "You know what Miske thinks of you, don't you?" I taunted.
  
   "Yes. I sent him back his ring," sobbed the demon face in the mirror. "He was cruel to me. Ever since my dear little Hollerbochen was born it's been nothing but misery for me. It's getting

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I Am Positively Not Robert Bloch 21 certainly don't look like Bob." At this, my reflection gnashed its teeth and made as if to bite me. Gad What a face!! That yellow hair tousling down in rumpled reams, those scarlet lips like pomegranate seeds (thanx to Seabury Quinn) That slavering row of bicuspids, insterspersed with pop-corn and chewing gum. It sickened me. "BRADBURY," I cried. "You're not looking any too well. What's wrong?" My reflection belshed, murmered something about last nights blood being a little too sweet. "Editor Campbell sent back my latest story yesterday," he grinned. "It was all about one lone little man at a bargain counter in a basement with five hundred women revolving about him. I called it: 'One Against The Legion'". Not contented with this, Bradbury drooled into his chin trough and laughed: "But I fooled old Campbell. I sent him back a note reading, "Dear Mr. C, I have read your rejection slip and am deeply sorry that my stock is complete for the next five years, and that I must reject your masterfully written rejection. Keep up the good work, John, and don't forget --- YOUR SLIP IS SHOWING!!" I looked Bradbury straight in the eye. Evidently this guy was a nut. He had the kind of face that encouraged Riply. "You know what Miske thinks of you, don't you?" I taunted. "Yes. I sent him back his ring," sobbed the demon face in the mirror. "He was cruel to me. Ever since my dear little Hollerbochen was born it's been nothing but misery for me. It's getting