DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Chanticleer

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Page 8

9        TWILE LIGHT TRIO

                       -- Harry Warner, Jr. 
   "You're dead," yelled the little boy, waving a stick at his mother.
   "Junior," she scolded, "I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Why do you keep pretending those sticks are ray guns, and old stone are Plutonian jewels?"
   "That's the fault of these crazy magazines," said Junior's father, who walked in just then. "Imagine," he said, as he slapped Junior across the ear, "trying to make our kids believe there's life on other planets."
   Junior ran howling out of the room, forgetting his magazine. Junior's father picked up the magazine. He showed it to his wife. 
   "See," he said. "Look--they show Venusians here in these pictures, and kids believe they really exist."
   Junior's mother glanced at the illustration. It showed three blobs of shapeless white stuff with tentacles. She laid the magazine down with disgust. 
   Junior's father looked about the room, to make sure Junior was really gone, then said confidentially, 
   "You know, that's not the worst of it. Of course, some day we'll have to explain to Junior about birds and flowers, and things--but don't you think these magazines should stop publishing stuff like that, that kids too young to know can read, and get wrong ideas about?"
   Junior's mother nodded, then murmured, "To think they print things like that."
   Junior's father offered, "Well, they do, and I suppose there's nothing we can do about it."
   He picked up the magazine again, and leafed through it. "Here," he said, "is another story about another kind of Venusians. It shows what I mean."
   "Look," he beckoned to Junior's twile, who had just entered the room, "they actually try to prove that Venusians could be born with only two parents! What kind of ideas is stuff like that going to give kids?"
   Junior's twile solemnly assented, eyes full of quiet indignation, then walked to the window. Junior's father took his wife's arm. They walked across the room and stood beside Junior's twile. He, she and It thought of the day the three had been united in holy matrimony, with fond memories of Junior whom all three parents loved despite all his faults. The two tiny moons of Mars cast a feeble light on their hairy antennae. 
                    QUERY
                     --Frakine Robinson
I like the spots where shadows grow
And where the sun no light does throw
And where the slithering things do tread
The valleys where the light has fled.

I like the moon, it's spectral glow
A deathly white upon the snow--
The darkening wood--a barking dog
The mortician's spade, the bottomless bog.

I like these things but I'm afraid 
That these are things of evil laid.
For mankind hates these things so low--
Yet what am I to like them so?

Saving...

9 TWILE LIGHT TRIO -- Harry Warner, Jr. "You're dead," yelled the little boy, waving a stick at his mother. "Junior," she scolded, "I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Why do you keep pretending those sticks are ray guns, and old stone are Plutonian jewels?" "That's the fault of these crazy magazines," said Junior's father, who walked in just then. "Imagine," he said, as he slapped Junior across the ear, "trying to make our kids believe there's life on other planets." Junior ran howling out of the room, forgetting his magazine. Junior's father picked up the magazine. He showed it to his wife. "See," he said. "Look--they show Venusians here in these pictures, and kids believe they really exist." Junior's mother glanced at the illustration. It showed three blobs of shapeless white stuff with tentacles. She laid the magazine down with disgust. Junior's father looked about the room, to make sure Junior was really gone, then said confidentially, "You know, that's not the worst of it. Of course, some day we'll have to explain to Junior about birds and flowers, and things--but don't you think these magazines should stop publishing stuff like that, that kids too young to know can read, and get wrong ideas about?" Junior's mother nodded, then murmured, "To think they print things like that." Junior's father offered, "Well, they do, and I suppose there's nothing we can do about it." He picked up the magazine again, and leafed through it. "Here," he said, "is another story about another kind of Venusians. It shows what I mean." "Look," he beckoned to Junior's twile, who had just entered the room, "they actually try to prove that Venusians could be born with only two parents! What kind of ideas is stuff like that going to give kids?" Junior's twile solemnly assented, eyes full of quiet indignation, then walked to the window. Junior's father took his wife's arm. They walked across the room and stood beside Junior's twile. He, she and It thought of the day the three had been united in holy matrimony, with fond memories of Junior whom all three parents loved despite all his faults. The two tiny moons of Mars cast a feeble light on their hairy antennae. QUERY --Frakine Robinson I like the spots where shadows grow And where the sun no light does throw And where the slithering things do tread The valleys where the light has fled. I like the moon, it's spectral glow A deathly white upon the snow-- The darkening wood--a barking dog The mortician's spade, the bottomless bog. I like these things but I'm afraid That these are things of evil laid. For mankind hates these things so low-- Yet what am I to like them so?