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Shangri-LA, issue 4, January-February 1948
Page 2
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NOW THAT THEY'RE GONE by Raymond E. Banks They're gone now, the humans, and the world has been made safe for dogs. They knew Ep, Ep the god, our god, the first of the new order. Yes, They knew him, for the newspapers published his story. For my sermon today, I will tell you of him. It will be the old, sweet story. He was a student, first of all, when They became aware of his existence, a student at UCLA -- that was the University of California at Los Angeles -- and he was an English major there. He took his work in English, and They laughed. "You're a dog," They said. "You're a dog who writes with his tail - silly dog to go to a college. Why do you want to go and learn English? What can a dog do with English?" But Ep -- praise Ep, the god, the first who is all -- said only "Ep," which was the only sound he made that They ever heard. He learned to read, learned to write, learned to calculate and how chemicals come together and why, learned what has happened in the world fifty-five million years ago, and that They didn't own the earth back yonder, learned how to make a double entry -- all of these, and a few more. They laughed, but They didn't suspect his motive for going to school, nor did Ep tell them. He kept his jaws shut. You couldn't read his secret in the great brown eyes; it wasn't to be seen from the stiff gray hairs of his coat, nor could They understand the wags of his tail. He was a serene - a noble figure of a dog. His coat was the mantle of peace which covers us all, the sky at dawn and at twilight, while the twinkle of stars is the twinkle of his eyes, and his four limbs are the pillars of our world, their grace the beauty of our lives, their muscles our firmness in the ways of truth and justice. They laughed, all but two. That was the danger for Ep, the two. One of them was Standish, one of the last of Them. Standish was also a student at UCLA and Ep belonged to him. He was big, saturnine, cynical. "You're trying to make some bitch, Ep," Standish would laugh. "You're putting on the dog," he would laugh, and Ep would say nothing, since those were dangerous days for the plan, Ep's plan, even if Standish didn't understand the plan. The other was smarter. He had all time in his mind, that Professor of Anthropology. His name Hoge. The other professors ranted, those who had Ep in classes. - 2 -
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NOW THAT THEY'RE GONE by Raymond E. Banks They're gone now, the humans, and the world has been made safe for dogs. They knew Ep, Ep the god, our god, the first of the new order. Yes, They knew him, for the newspapers published his story. For my sermon today, I will tell you of him. It will be the old, sweet story. He was a student, first of all, when They became aware of his existence, a student at UCLA -- that was the University of California at Los Angeles -- and he was an English major there. He took his work in English, and They laughed. "You're a dog," They said. "You're a dog who writes with his tail - silly dog to go to a college. Why do you want to go and learn English? What can a dog do with English?" But Ep -- praise Ep, the god, the first who is all -- said only "Ep," which was the only sound he made that They ever heard. He learned to read, learned to write, learned to calculate and how chemicals come together and why, learned what has happened in the world fifty-five million years ago, and that They didn't own the earth back yonder, learned how to make a double entry -- all of these, and a few more. They laughed, but They didn't suspect his motive for going to school, nor did Ep tell them. He kept his jaws shut. You couldn't read his secret in the great brown eyes; it wasn't to be seen from the stiff gray hairs of his coat, nor could They understand the wags of his tail. He was a serene - a noble figure of a dog. His coat was the mantle of peace which covers us all, the sky at dawn and at twilight, while the twinkle of stars is the twinkle of his eyes, and his four limbs are the pillars of our world, their grace the beauty of our lives, their muscles our firmness in the ways of truth and justice. They laughed, all but two. That was the danger for Ep, the two. One of them was Standish, one of the last of Them. Standish was also a student at UCLA and Ep belonged to him. He was big, saturnine, cynical. "You're trying to make some bitch, Ep," Standish would laugh. "You're putting on the dog," he would laugh, and Ep would say nothing, since those were dangerous days for the plan, Ep's plan, even if Standish didn't understand the plan. The other was smarter. He had all time in his mind, that Professor of Anthropology. His name Hoge. The other professors ranted, those who had Ep in classes. - 2 -
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