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Fanfare, whole no. 10, December 1943
Page 45
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45 a banshee & a woman with her throat cut - & looks even worse. But the pretty bubbles that ooze out from between one's fingers are more than adequate recompense - or so I thot at the time. After thoroly smearing my face in my enthusiasm, I looked around for the forthcoming applause - which did not forthcome. & when nobody cracked a smile, while some actually looked disgusted, the resulting series of ear shattering howls & completely unrestrained self-pity made vocal, sent them all scurrying. All but one. He was a portly gentleman; a hale-fellow-all-wet sort of chap, you know. He withstood the most heart-rending sobs I could muster, & didn't even flicker an eyelash at my super-dooper, extra-special climax wail. Seeing he was not one to be impressed by mere vocal gymnastics, I promptly subsided & cooed, "Poo-l-l?" & to my gratified amazement he gave a visible start! "Paul? Where did you hear--?" & he glanced nervously about. Then he slithered up to me & whispered, "You may not know it yet, but you are one of us!" Then he smirked & leered, both at the same time. Probably meant it to be a reassuring smile, but I've never seen anything to approach it as a sheer unadulterated nerve-wrecker. I was promptly reduced to a shambles. Having sufficiently broken down what little resistance I might have possessed, he preceded to inoculate me with insidious & almost irresistible bits of stf. & then, without a word of warning, he jabbed me mercilessly with a full shot of undiluted Interplanetary by EESmith. Illustrated by Paul, no less. That first treatment almost proved to be the last. For days after I was a hopeless case of violent hysteria - a bundle of raw, naked nerves. My parents naturally noticed my condition & made inquiries as to the cause. I managed to think up a fairly plausible excuse, vowing that death was preferable to revealing the true source of my discomfort. Fear held my tongue, fear & shame. Anything was preferable to the shame that would be mine if I were revealed for what I was gradually becoming! Oh, but the uncle was so thoto about my ruin! He went about it so calmly, so coldly, so efficiently! It
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45 a banshee & a woman with her throat cut - & looks even worse. But the pretty bubbles that ooze out from between one's fingers are more than adequate recompense - or so I thot at the time. After thoroly smearing my face in my enthusiasm, I looked around for the forthcoming applause - which did not forthcome. & when nobody cracked a smile, while some actually looked disgusted, the resulting series of ear shattering howls & completely unrestrained self-pity made vocal, sent them all scurrying. All but one. He was a portly gentleman; a hale-fellow-all-wet sort of chap, you know. He withstood the most heart-rending sobs I could muster, & didn't even flicker an eyelash at my super-dooper, extra-special climax wail. Seeing he was not one to be impressed by mere vocal gymnastics, I promptly subsided & cooed, "Poo-l-l?" & to my gratified amazement he gave a visible start! "Paul? Where did you hear--?" & he glanced nervously about. Then he slithered up to me & whispered, "You may not know it yet, but you are one of us!" Then he smirked & leered, both at the same time. Probably meant it to be a reassuring smile, but I've never seen anything to approach it as a sheer unadulterated nerve-wrecker. I was promptly reduced to a shambles. Having sufficiently broken down what little resistance I might have possessed, he preceded to inoculate me with insidious & almost irresistible bits of stf. & then, without a word of warning, he jabbed me mercilessly with a full shot of undiluted Interplanetary by EESmith. Illustrated by Paul, no less. That first treatment almost proved to be the last. For days after I was a hopeless case of violent hysteria - a bundle of raw, naked nerves. My parents naturally noticed my condition & made inquiries as to the cause. I managed to think up a fairly plausible excuse, vowing that death was preferable to revealing the true source of my discomfort. Fear held my tongue, fear & shame. Anything was preferable to the shame that would be mine if I were revealed for what I was gradually becoming! Oh, but the uncle was so thoto about my ruin! He went about it so calmly, so coldly, so efficiently! It
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