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Spacewarp, v. 5, issue 4, whole no. 28, July 1949
Page 15
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"Does it work?" I wanted to know, pointing at the rocket. "How the hell should I know?" asked the Prof. "It ain't been tried yet. I was lookin' for a sucker -- that is, a seeker after knowledge, to try it." "I know just the man," I said brightly, thinking of a certain atheistic Air Force enlistee. "Shaddup," sez Betty. "I know who's going to try it. YOU," she said, pointing her long, slender, well-muscled left breast at me. "my dear Horace, will test the invention. If you survive, we'll all try it. That's what I like about Betty. She is so direct. * * * * * Far, far below was the earth. The green, green earth. It was spinning dizzily on its axis. The axis was screeching slightly. Too many oil wells had drunk the thing dry. The green, green earth. Spinning.....spinning. After I watched it for a while I was sort of green myself. Art Rapp's house came into view. It was easily recognized. There was a pile of P.A. cans on one side and Schlitz cans on the other. Rapp was sitting out in front, combing his beard and reading his vast collection of prozines -- second only to his vast collection of pipes. (Fooled ya! Ya thought I was gonna say beer crowns.) I thot of many things as I soared starward for the first time...of the tremendous moment in history I was creating. Of Betty, and why she was so inquisitorial (whew! WC) and yet so uxorious. Of the professor -- his brilliant mind and plebian phraseology. I thought of space, and time, and Lovecraft. That was a mistake. luckily I'd kept the paper bag handy after watching the earth spinning. Then the overdrive went into action and I felt a bit of giddiness. Then came merciful oblivion. When I came to, there was utter blackness in the view screen. That is, until I opened the blinds. Speaking of blinds, did I ever tell ya about the blind cow that waded into the tar pit? Udder blackness..... Anyway, with the blinds open I could see great suns and stars and moons. The darkness was splattered with great hunks of indescribable light. While I admired the beauty of the universe I cussed the phrenetic who caused me to leave my happy home and go a-spacing. I ain't no spacer. Rapp puts 'em in when he retypes my manuscript. I finally decided to try for Mars. Mars was the closest to me according to a dial the professor installed. I twirled the dial. It brought in one of Sinatra's recordings. Wrong dial. So I tried again. This time, Mars came in. Mars was a big, war-like...(oh hell, i been reading too much mythology for research on this epic) and I knew everything was O.K. (I'm getting sleepy. I just re-read that paragraph, and if it makes sense, i'll marry Astra Zimmer--even after the way she treated me in the December WARP. WC) As I neared Mars, a strange thing happened. The door of the ex-lax chamber opened and the professor stepped out. Closely followed by Getty. "What you been doing in the fuel bin?" I asked. "Filthy minded!" Betty snapped. She must have read suspicion in my face. In fact, she must have read my mind. "Just fueling around" explained the Professor. (15)
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"Does it work?" I wanted to know, pointing at the rocket. "How the hell should I know?" asked the Prof. "It ain't been tried yet. I was lookin' for a sucker -- that is, a seeker after knowledge, to try it." "I know just the man," I said brightly, thinking of a certain atheistic Air Force enlistee. "Shaddup," sez Betty. "I know who's going to try it. YOU," she said, pointing her long, slender, well-muscled left breast at me. "my dear Horace, will test the invention. If you survive, we'll all try it. That's what I like about Betty. She is so direct. * * * * * Far, far below was the earth. The green, green earth. It was spinning dizzily on its axis. The axis was screeching slightly. Too many oil wells had drunk the thing dry. The green, green earth. Spinning.....spinning. After I watched it for a while I was sort of green myself. Art Rapp's house came into view. It was easily recognized. There was a pile of P.A. cans on one side and Schlitz cans on the other. Rapp was sitting out in front, combing his beard and reading his vast collection of prozines -- second only to his vast collection of pipes. (Fooled ya! Ya thought I was gonna say beer crowns.) I thot of many things as I soared starward for the first time...of the tremendous moment in history I was creating. Of Betty, and why she was so inquisitorial (whew! WC) and yet so uxorious. Of the professor -- his brilliant mind and plebian phraseology. I thought of space, and time, and Lovecraft. That was a mistake. luckily I'd kept the paper bag handy after watching the earth spinning. Then the overdrive went into action and I felt a bit of giddiness. Then came merciful oblivion. When I came to, there was utter blackness in the view screen. That is, until I opened the blinds. Speaking of blinds, did I ever tell ya about the blind cow that waded into the tar pit? Udder blackness..... Anyway, with the blinds open I could see great suns and stars and moons. The darkness was splattered with great hunks of indescribable light. While I admired the beauty of the universe I cussed the phrenetic who caused me to leave my happy home and go a-spacing. I ain't no spacer. Rapp puts 'em in when he retypes my manuscript. I finally decided to try for Mars. Mars was the closest to me according to a dial the professor installed. I twirled the dial. It brought in one of Sinatra's recordings. Wrong dial. So I tried again. This time, Mars came in. Mars was a big, war-like...(oh hell, i been reading too much mythology for research on this epic) and I knew everything was O.K. (I'm getting sleepy. I just re-read that paragraph, and if it makes sense, i'll marry Astra Zimmer--even after the way she treated me in the December WARP. WC) As I neared Mars, a strange thing happened. The door of the ex-lax chamber opened and the professor stepped out. Closely followed by Getty. "What you been doing in the fuel bin?" I asked. "Filthy minded!" Betty snapped. She must have read suspicion in my face. In fact, she must have read my mind. "Just fueling around" explained the Professor. (15)
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