DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Spaceways, v. 4, issue 5, whole no. 28, June 1942

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Spaceways, v. 4, issue 5, whole no. 28, June 1942

Page 9

SPACEWAYS
9
THE RASCALITY OF THE RUSSIAN RUGCUTTER

He saw my gaze. Dropping to his knees, he seized up the huge shears.

"You see," he explained, "I cut through the forest in strips. This way I can see among the trees and will find her more easily."

I looked about me hastily. Evidently I was in the presence of a madman. But to my horror I couldn't find the door. The room was brightly lit but nowhere could I see any trace of an opening. It was sealed as tightly as a coffin. Deciding to humor him, I turned back.

The hat had again slipped down over his eyes as he cut and the shears were busily working through the leg of his trousers. In horror I leaped forward, but was too late. His foot rolled over and came to rest, the stump facing me.

"Hey!" I yelled. He looked up.

"Your -- your foot!"

He looked down, saw it. "Dear me!" he murmured. He picked it up, looked at it speculatively. Then to my horror he inserted the stump into his trousers leg, hit the foot on the bottom with the shears, and wiggled it experimentally. He smiled up at me.

"Thank you. I have so much trouble with it -- it's always dropping off."

"Look," I said, "I got to get out of here. My -- my boss is waiting for me."

He rose to his feet. Removing the bowler he wiped a shining bald head with an immense polka-dot red hankerchief.

"But I must find my princess," he said. "Soon the sun will set and then it will be too late."

"Sure, sure. But I got to get back or it'll be too late for me, too."

He eyed me speculatively. Replacing the hat carefully on his ears, he dug both hands into his pockets, drew forth a giant green stone, and held it forth.

"Look through this, then. Maybe you will see her. Your eyes are younger, stronger."

Rather unwillingly, I did. I almost dropped the stone in surprise. The trees leaped forward until I was going to be hit in the face by trees. Everything became so real I could have sworn it was an actual forest I was looking down at. "Man, you've got a miracle here," I exclaimed. "You could sell your secret for a fortune."

"First I must find--" "Where did you get it?" "That? It is the famous 'Green Prism'!" "Green--what? Say don't try to kid me. That was just a story idea of Verrill's."

He smiled and took the stone away from me. Placing it on the rug, he sat down cross-legged before it. Taking a toy violin from his pocket, he began to play "Little Brown Jug". First he played it straight; then he began to swing it. After a few bars he jumped to his feet.

"C'mon, boy," he cried, waving the fiddle at me. He started dancing around the Green Prism. "Get hep! It's only when you're in the groove and jiving on down that it will work. Hep! Hep! Hep!"

Suddenly I found myself doing it too. I seemed unable to make my feet keep still. As I jived it, I noted with a sort of detached astonishment that though the music still went on, he was no longer fiddling the fiddle.

Suddenly the Green Prism went into action. First it started to glow; then it split with a ringing sound like a resonant cow-bell. The little man vanished in a cloud of smoke. The music died with a wail.

For several minutes I searched the room for the Russian Ragcutter before I was forced to conclude he had, by some means unknown, departed. Then I tried to get out but was unsuccessful. Finally, discouraged, I sat down and twiddled my thumbs.

After some time of twiddling I noticed the toy fiddle. Idly I picked it up and drew the bow across the strings. The most unearthly wail echoed from it, and everything went black.

Voices aroused me. To my horror I found myself lying in the street, a crowd around me. I was naked as the day I was born. A cop crowded through.

(concluded on page 13)

Saving...

SPACEWAYS 9 THE RASCALITY OF THE RUSSIAN RUGCUTTER He saw my gaze. Dropping to his knees, he seized up the huge shears. "You see," he explained, "I cut through the forest in strips. This way I can see among the trees and will find her more easily." I looked about me hastily. Evidently I was in the presence of a madman. But to my horror I couldn't find the door. The room was brightly lit but nowhere could I see any trace of an opening. It was sealed as tightly as a coffin. Deciding to humor him, I turned back. The hat had again slipped down over his eyes as he cut and the shears were busily working through the leg of his trousers. In horror I leaped forward, but was too late. His foot rolled over and came to rest, the stump facing me. "Hey!" I yelled. He looked up. "Your -- your foot!" He looked down, saw it. "Dear me!" he murmured. He picked it up, looked at it speculatively. Then to my horror he inserted the stump into his trousers leg, hit the foot on the bottom with the shears, and wiggled it experimentally. He smiled up at me. "Thank you. I have so much trouble with it -- it's always dropping off." "Look," I said, "I got to get out of here. My -- my boss is waiting for me." He rose to his feet. Removing the bowler he wiped a shining bald head with an immense polka-dot red hankerchief. "But I must find my princess," he said. "Soon the sun will set and then it will be too late." "Sure, sure. But I got to get back or it'll be too late for me, too." He eyed me speculatively. Replacing the hat carefully on his ears, he dug both hands into his pockets, drew forth a giant green stone, and held it forth. "Look through this, then. Maybe you will see her. Your eyes are younger, stronger." Rather unwillingly, I did. I almost dropped the stone in surprise. The trees leaped forward until I was going to be hit in the face by trees. Everything became so real I could have sworn it was an actual forest I was looking down at. "Man, you've got a miracle here," I exclaimed. "You could sell your secret for a fortune." "First I must find--" "Where did you get it?" "That? It is the famous 'Green Prism'!" "Green--what? Say don't try to kid me. That was just a story idea of Verrill's." He smiled and took the stone away from me. Placing it on the rug, he sat down cross-legged before it. Taking a toy violin from his pocket, he began to play "Little Brown Jug". First he played it straight; then he began to swing it. After a few bars he jumped to his feet. "C'mon, boy," he cried, waving the fiddle at me. He started dancing around the Green Prism. "Get hep! It's only when you're in the groove and jiving on down that it will work. Hep! Hep! Hep!" Suddenly I found myself doing it too. I seemed unable to make my feet keep still. As I jived it, I noted with a sort of detached astonishment that though the music still went on, he was no longer fiddling the fiddle. Suddenly the Green Prism went into action. First it started to glow; then it split with a ringing sound like a resonant cow-bell. The little man vanished in a cloud of smoke. The music died with a wail. For several minutes I searched the room for the Russian Ragcutter before I was forced to conclude he had, by some means unknown, departed. Then I tried to get out but was unsuccessful. Finally, discouraged, I sat down and twiddled my thumbs. After some time of twiddling I noticed the toy fiddle. Idly I picked it up and drew the bow across the strings. The most unearthly wail echoed from it, and everything went black. Voices aroused me. To my horror I found myself lying in the street, a crowd around me. I was naked as the day I was born. A cop crowded through. (concluded on page 13)