DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Thing, whole no. 1, Spring 1946

Transcribe
Translate

Thing, whole no. 1, Spring 1946

Page 24

"Agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation have been called into the case, for there are now fears that the kidnappers may have been able to cross state lines by private plane. An unidentified plane was reported north of Hollywood at about the time...."
   "My oh my!" said Mr. Galeano, opening his eyes wide. "Abduction!" He pointed a large forefinger. "And you are Betty Laselle!"
   Mr. Pobbles struggled unsteadily to his feet but Mr. Galeano shoved him back into the chair and picked up the telephone. "Listen, brother," he said, "I'm not to anxious to cause a scandal. How about talking turkey?"
   "Phooey!" said Mr. Pobbles, very brave.
   "Phooey to you!" said Mr. Galeano. "I got you where I want you and you know it. Now, be reasonable. Give me your word that you'll get me what I want from the ration board and I'll conveniently forget what I've seen here tonight!"
   "Get out of here!" shouted Mr. Pobbles.
   "Not so fast! Not so fast brother!" warned Mr. Galeano. "Have you considered what I've got on you? Abduction! That means the Lindbergh Law and the Federal dicks and plenty of deep-green grief. Better think things over pretty carefully before you tell me to get out."
   "Do what he says, Oscar," urged Mrs. Pobbles.
   "I'll do nothing of the sort," said Mr. Pobbles. "The man's a crook and I refuse to play his game, no matter what the consideration."
   "Okay brother. You asked for it." Mr. Galeano started to dial. Mr. Pobbles sprang to his feet but once more Mr. Galeano shoved him backward into the chair. "Take it easy, big boy" he said. "You asked for it and now you're going to get it."
   The djinn was awake now, awake and sitting up in a chair.
   "Take that man," Mr. Pobbles ordered "and drop him into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, at least a hundred miles from any ship."
   "I'm sorry, buddy," said the djinn. He pointed. Mr. Galeano finished dialing. One hand held the telephone instrument. The other was resting on the lamp. "I'm not yours anymore," said the djinn.

   THE CENTERTON JAIL is nice and clean but Mr. Pobbles didn't like it. He was held there, without bail, for thirty hours while Hollywood big shots struggled to get plane reservations for the trip East. Newspaper headlines carried the good word that Zebulon T. Ephedrinus, the head of Pacific Studios, was enroute to Centerton to identify his errant star. Betty herself, the papers said, so far had refused to explain her presence in the Ohio city. Representatives of the press associations and of the New York, Chicago and Cleveland papers were pouring into town. Very much in the limelight but very much cast down was Mr. Pobbles. He pinched himself but did not wake up. It wasn't a dream.
   He was arraigned on Friday morning before John Timothy Cassidy, the United States commissioner, who had borrowed the county court room for the news reeling affair. Mr. Pobbles was there. Mrs. Pobbles was there. Betty Laselle was there. Everybody was there save the djinn. He had returned to the mountain of Kaf.
   The clerk read the information and complaint, lodged and sworn to by Peter Galeano. Mr. Pobbles said, "Not guilty," om a weak voice. Then Mr. Ephedrinus took the stand and swore that Betty was none other than Betty Laselle, brightest luminary of the talking screen. Flashlights popped.
   Mr. Cassidy called Miss Laselle to the stand. Flashlights popped again.
   "All this is nonsense," she said. "According to all the newspapers I was found in Ohio only two hours after I had disappeared in California. Has anyone discovered what plane I could have used? And if I didn't use a plane, how did I get here?
   "The point is that I have not been in California for more than a week. Pacific Studios voided my contract by making me appear in a picture without my

Saving...

"Agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation have been called into the case, for there are now fears that the kidnappers may have been able to cross state lines by private plane. An unidentified plane was reported north of Hollywood at about the time...." "My oh my!" said Mr. Galeano, opening his eyes wide. "Abduction!" He pointed a large forefinger. "And you are Betty Laselle!" Mr. Pobbles struggled unsteadily to his feet but Mr. Galeano shoved him back into the chair and picked up the telephone. "Listen, brother," he said, "I'm not to anxious to cause a scandal. How about talking turkey?" "Phooey!" said Mr. Pobbles, very brave. "Phooey to you!" said Mr. Galeano. "I got you where I want you and you know it. Now, be reasonable. Give me your word that you'll get me what I want from the ration board and I'll conveniently forget what I've seen here tonight!" "Get out of here!" shouted Mr. Pobbles. "Not so fast! Not so fast brother!" warned Mr. Galeano. "Have you considered what I've got on you? Abduction! That means the Lindbergh Law and the Federal dicks and plenty of deep-green grief. Better think things over pretty carefully before you tell me to get out." "Do what he says, Oscar," urged Mrs. Pobbles. "I'll do nothing of the sort," said Mr. Pobbles. "The man's a crook and I refuse to play his game, no matter what the consideration." "Okay brother. You asked for it." Mr. Galeano started to dial. Mr. Pobbles sprang to his feet but once more Mr. Galeano shoved him backward into the chair. "Take it easy, big boy" he said. "You asked for it and now you're going to get it." The djinn was awake now, awake and sitting up in a chair. "Take that man," Mr. Pobbles ordered "and drop him into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, at least a hundred miles from any ship." "I'm sorry, buddy," said the djinn. He pointed. Mr. Galeano finished dialing. One hand held the telephone instrument. The other was resting on the lamp. "I'm not yours anymore," said the djinn. THE CENTERTON JAIL is nice and clean but Mr. Pobbles didn't like it. He was held there, without bail, for thirty hours while Hollywood big shots struggled to get plane reservations for the trip East. Newspaper headlines carried the good word that Zebulon T. Ephedrinus, the head of Pacific Studios, was enroute to Centerton to identify his errant star. Betty herself, the papers said, so far had refused to explain her presence in the Ohio city. Representatives of the press associations and of the New York, Chicago and Cleveland papers were pouring into town. Very much in the limelight but very much cast down was Mr. Pobbles. He pinched himself but did not wake up. It wasn't a dream. He was arraigned on Friday morning before John Timothy Cassidy, the United States commissioner, who had borrowed the county court room for the news reeling affair. Mr. Pobbles was there. Mrs. Pobbles was there. Betty Laselle was there. Everybody was there save the djinn. He had returned to the mountain of Kaf. The clerk read the information and complaint, lodged and sworn to by Peter Galeano. Mr. Pobbles said, "Not guilty," om a weak voice. Then Mr. Ephedrinus took the stand and swore that Betty was none other than Betty Laselle, brightest luminary of the talking screen. Flashlights popped. Mr. Cassidy called Miss Laselle to the stand. Flashlights popped again. "All this is nonsense," she said. "According to all the newspapers I was found in Ohio only two hours after I had disappeared in California. Has anyone discovered what plane I could have used? And if I didn't use a plane, how did I get here? "The point is that I have not been in California for more than a week. Pacific Studios voided my contract by making me appear in a picture without my