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Spacewarp, v. 5, issue 4, whole no. 28, July 1949
Page 10
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chicken, dumplings and gravy and his favorite dessert: a pineapple, tapiocaed treat. Oh, yes, she'd have everything for Stanley. Oh, yes, she'd have the little darling cooing. Then she'd give him his poisoned tea. Oh my yes! Mummy Vera knew what was best for her darling little Stanley. But why could she see a luminescent mist? "Nice food . . . Mummy's so sweet!" There, he was at it again. She frowned, dropped her napkin, and, obedient, Stanley leaped to her rescue. The doorbell rang as she poured the powder in his tea. "Thank you!" The Western Union boy gratefully tipped his cap, and she ripped the glassined envelope. GATES THEATER, NEW YORK. COME AT ONCE. SECOND LEAD IN 'VIRTUE'S AVOWAL'. TWO HUNDRED TO START. ANSWER IMMEDIATELY HAROLD L. BLOCK, PRODUCER Two hundred! Returning to her dinner, Vera laughed aloud. Block would offer such a pittance; a fraction of the salary her engineered schemes would bring her. Vera quenched her thirsty throat, patted Stanley's head and rambled on with her plans. At the pace she was going, and the way she had driven him, George wouldn't last too many years. Stanley laughed. "What are you giggling about?" she asked, amazed. Then she felt it: A sharp, searing pain rocketing over her entire body, enveloping her, biting into her innards. Staggering to her feet, she glanced back at Stanley. He grinned and held her gold-edged cup. Her cup. With his child-like, idiotic fancy, he had exchanged them. Her gold-edged cup for his, filled with poison. "Bichloride of Mercury," she'd read on the bottle. Crawling to the front room, where everything lay lambent in a semidarkness, she upheaved again and again. Fearful streaks of crimson and orange crossed her vision, yet she could see a chilling gray-mist bending over her. Over the smoky body, she saw a handsome but vengeful face, which said, "You would kill my boy, wouldn't you?" Vera felt the crushing jab of a narrow spike-heel in her ear. She screamed. Pain drove in like a monstrous battleship, bounding along on excruciating waves; tilting, from side to side, with its favored load of terror. Blood gushed from her nose, her mouth, her ears. Giving a sigh of content, the smoke-like wraith faded over Vera's body and floated out the window. Stealing over her, a torpid sensation dissolved the pain, leaving only peace and rest. Yet, in her dying ears, she heard Stanley: "Do it again, Mummy Vera!" Stanley chortled and pleaded, skipping around the room in joyous excitement. "Please, do it! He, ha...ha...ha...! Mummy's so funny when she lays on the floor and kicks and wriggles! Oh, so funny.....Please, Mummy Vera, won't you do it some more?" - END - (10)
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chicken, dumplings and gravy and his favorite dessert: a pineapple, tapiocaed treat. Oh, yes, she'd have everything for Stanley. Oh, yes, she'd have the little darling cooing. Then she'd give him his poisoned tea. Oh my yes! Mummy Vera knew what was best for her darling little Stanley. But why could she see a luminescent mist? "Nice food . . . Mummy's so sweet!" There, he was at it again. She frowned, dropped her napkin, and, obedient, Stanley leaped to her rescue. The doorbell rang as she poured the powder in his tea. "Thank you!" The Western Union boy gratefully tipped his cap, and she ripped the glassined envelope. GATES THEATER, NEW YORK. COME AT ONCE. SECOND LEAD IN 'VIRTUE'S AVOWAL'. TWO HUNDRED TO START. ANSWER IMMEDIATELY HAROLD L. BLOCK, PRODUCER Two hundred! Returning to her dinner, Vera laughed aloud. Block would offer such a pittance; a fraction of the salary her engineered schemes would bring her. Vera quenched her thirsty throat, patted Stanley's head and rambled on with her plans. At the pace she was going, and the way she had driven him, George wouldn't last too many years. Stanley laughed. "What are you giggling about?" she asked, amazed. Then she felt it: A sharp, searing pain rocketing over her entire body, enveloping her, biting into her innards. Staggering to her feet, she glanced back at Stanley. He grinned and held her gold-edged cup. Her cup. With his child-like, idiotic fancy, he had exchanged them. Her gold-edged cup for his, filled with poison. "Bichloride of Mercury," she'd read on the bottle. Crawling to the front room, where everything lay lambent in a semidarkness, she upheaved again and again. Fearful streaks of crimson and orange crossed her vision, yet she could see a chilling gray-mist bending over her. Over the smoky body, she saw a handsome but vengeful face, which said, "You would kill my boy, wouldn't you?" Vera felt the crushing jab of a narrow spike-heel in her ear. She screamed. Pain drove in like a monstrous battleship, bounding along on excruciating waves; tilting, from side to side, with its favored load of terror. Blood gushed from her nose, her mouth, her ears. Giving a sigh of content, the smoke-like wraith faded over Vera's body and floated out the window. Stealing over her, a torpid sensation dissolved the pain, leaving only peace and rest. Yet, in her dying ears, she heard Stanley: "Do it again, Mummy Vera!" Stanley chortled and pleaded, skipping around the room in joyous excitement. "Please, do it! He, ha...ha...ha...! Mummy's so funny when she lays on the floor and kicks and wriggles! Oh, so funny.....Please, Mummy Vera, won't you do it some more?" - END - (10)
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