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Fantasite, v. 1, issue 3, April 1941

Page 24

24...THE FANTASITE
Sordid Saga of the Columbia Camp
By Harry Jenkins Jr.
((Prologue: This, quite fortunately, is not a literal description of what goes on during a meeting in the Mecca of Deep South Fandom. It is merely a record of what things look like through the eyes of the Mad Poet of the Columbia Camp. Well, mad, anyway...))

"Hi, Mae," said the Columbia Camp
As they marched into the room,
Mac turned and groaned outwardly
At this sudden stroke of doom.

"You're here and that can't be helped,
So close the fodamn door,
Go wipe our feet on the rubber mat 
And not upon the floor."

Eastman first marched into the room
His arms filled with stuff;
Gilbert behind with his Scotchman smile
So much like MacDuff.

A dash between Joe and Lee
Was won by the Great;
Who settled down in the easy chair
And gazed at the hand of Fate.

For Lee had drawn his handyknife
His any-poetry persuader;
While Mac looked on with the solemn
Gaze of a somnolent pater

Bull and bull and still more bull
Was expounded by all,
When out in the hall, out in the dark,
Came a frantic call.

The door was opened and in walked
Jenkins, the No. 1 dope;
Greetings were exchanged, hands shook
With the No. 1 fope.

What a quizzical eye and wrinkled brows
MacQueen ventured a suggestions;
"Would any one care of a coke or two?{"
He put it as a question.

A sudden rush for the kitchenette
Left Mac upon the floor,
He bounded up and into the kitchenette
The cokes were no more.

Eastman, Jenkins, and Gilbert smiled
From ear to ear;
Gentlemen, said Mac sonorously
I quaintly fear;

That tis 4 a. m. and time is short
For sawing of the wood;
So if you dopes are willing and able
Go home like you should!

But resolutely they stood as 
Solid as Gibralter;
Till Edith appeared with scorching look
Then they began to falter.

Mac shoved and pushed as hard as hell
With Edith urging him on;
Suddenly Gilbert gave and out they went
With many a howling groan.

We'll get even, Gilbert screamed
With a voice full of hate.
"Don't yell so loud," a neighbor cried,
"It's too damn late."

To escape a threatened police call
The camp was away;
Singing very lustily "For I am
To be Queen of the May!"

****THE END****

[illustration]

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24...THE FANTASITE Sordid Saga of the Columbia Camp By Harry Jenkins Jr. ((Prologue: This, quite fortunately, is not a literal description of what goes on during a meeting in the Mecca of Deep South Fandom. It is merely a record of what things look like through the eyes of the Mad Poet of the Columbia Camp. Well, mad, anyway...)) "Hi, Mae," said the Columbia Camp As they marched into the room, Mac turned and groaned outwardly At this sudden stroke of doom. "You're here and that can't be helped, So close the fodamn door, Go wipe our feet on the rubber mat And not upon the floor." Eastman first marched into the room His arms filled with stuff; Gilbert behind with his Scotchman smile So much like MacDuff. A dash between Joe and Lee Was won by the Great; Who settled down in the easy chair And gazed at the hand of Fate. For Lee had drawn his handyknife His any-poetry persuader; While Mac looked on with the solemn Gaze of a somnolent pater Bull and bull and still more bull Was expounded by all, When out in the hall, out in the dark, Came a frantic call. The door was opened and in walked Jenkins, the No. 1 dope; Greetings were exchanged, hands shook With the No. 1 fope. What a quizzical eye and wrinkled brows MacQueen ventured a suggestions; "Would any one care of a coke or two?{" He put it as a question. A sudden rush for the kitchenette Left Mac upon the floor, He bounded up and into the kitchenette The cokes were no more. Eastman, Jenkins, and Gilbert smiled From ear to ear; Gentlemen, said Mac sonorously I quaintly fear; That tis 4 a. m. and time is short For sawing of the wood; So if you dopes are willing and able Go home like you should! But resolutely they stood as Solid as Gibralter; Till Edith appeared with scorching look Then they began to falter. Mac shoved and pushed as hard as hell With Edith urging him on; Suddenly Gilbert gave and out they went With many a howling groan. We'll get even, Gilbert screamed With a voice full of hate. "Don't yell so loud," a neighbor cried, "It's too damn late." To escape a threatened police call The camp was away; Singing very lustily "For I am To be Queen of the May!" ****THE END**** [illustration]