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Fantascience Digest, v. 1, issue 1, November-December 1937
Page 6
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Page 6 FANTASCIENCE DIGEST No fun. Nothing. The only thing a scientist is good for is to save the world. I can do it with my hands tied. "But you're supposed to be a serious old scientist--" He leered at me wickedly. "Say, mug[[?]], just try putting me in a love story. I'd-" I broke in hurriedly. "Never mind. What would the readers say?" He let out a strain of oaths. "I hate their insides. I hate yours, too. A character never has any fun. Why, I've spent whole days looking through my laboratory thinking you may have put a bottle of whiskey on[[?]] the shelf by mistake, but is[[?]]--not you. Never a taste. You're just a stingy, fat-headed--" He made several uncomplimentary remarks. "The hero[[?]] never kicks," I told him. "Why should he? He gets the girl. I help him out, do all the work, save the earth-and I'm supposed to be satisfied with my laboratory. In a dozen of your stories about me the hero gets the girl, and I get a test-tube. Scallions to that." He watched me furtively and then said, "Lousy style you've got anyway." "Why, you sawed[[?]]-off little shrimp," I said hotly. "What do you mean, lousy style? I'd like to see you try your hand at my job --in fact, I'd like to change places with you just to watch you squirm!" His face lit up with a salicious[[?]] smile. "I was waiting for that," he chuckled. "You've done it now, sucker. And Lord help you, for I won't. You just bet we'll trade
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Page 6 FANTASCIENCE DIGEST No fun. Nothing. The only thing a scientist is good for is to save the world. I can do it with my hands tied. "But you're supposed to be a serious old scientist--" He leered at me wickedly. "Say, mug[[?]], just try putting me in a love story. I'd-" I broke in hurriedly. "Never mind. What would the readers say?" He let out a strain of oaths. "I hate their insides. I hate yours, too. A character never has any fun. Why, I've spent whole days looking through my laboratory thinking you may have put a bottle of whiskey on[[?]] the shelf by mistake, but is[[?]]--not you. Never a taste. You're just a stingy, fat-headed--" He made several uncomplimentary remarks. "The hero[[?]] never kicks," I told him. "Why should he? He gets the girl. I help him out, do all the work, save the earth-and I'm supposed to be satisfied with my laboratory. In a dozen of your stories about me the hero gets the girl, and I get a test-tube. Scallions to that." He watched me furtively and then said, "Lousy style you've got anyway." "Why, you sawed[[?]]-off little shrimp," I said hotly. "What do you mean, lousy style? I'd like to see you try your hand at my job --in fact, I'd like to change places with you just to watch you squirm!" His face lit up with a salicious[[?]] smile. "I was waiting for that," he chuckled. "You've done it now, sucker. And Lord help you, for I won't. You just bet we'll trade
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