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Leprechaun, v. 1, issue 1, March 1942
Page 8
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8, LEPRECHAUN foghorn kept its voice, and little spheroids of water still dripped lazily from the eaves, to chatter on the tin deck adjoining the room like a thousand angry elves. Why I ever bought a house with assorted tin roofs scattered about I don't know. And so I slept. The next morning, Friday the eleventh, dawned brighter than it had for nearly a week. My spirits rose with the sun, and I whistled my way to the kitchen, retrieved two eggs from the ice box and plunked them into a pan. In a few moments I sat down to breakfast. The gloom returned as the eggs went, and I remembered the dream as i reached for a roll. I put the roll back, having strangely lost my appetite. The dishes washed and put away without mishap, I sat down at nine to think of what I could do with an idle hour or so, I am no different than anyone else, so that hour of idleness seemed just as long to me as it would to you. Every last drop of news was squeezed from the radio, and I guess I must have worn out at least two phonograph needles, and three records. There was nothing of interest in the papers, so I started a cosy fire with them. I was just making myself comfortable in an overstuffed chair taking potahots at a bear rug with a cane, when the bell rang, signifying the arrival of Sandner. "Good morning," I greeted him as he popped into the room. I didn't have to open the door for him. He opens the door with his passkey better than I do with the one that fits, I aimed the cane at him, and pulled an imaginary trigger,. He couldn't see it. "You nuts?" What a man for a reporter. No imagination, none at all. "No, I'm not nuts, and I'm not under the weather, Let's go." I put away the cane, jammed on my hat, hoisted an umbrella, and pushed him through the door. He was slightly quizzical. "Gee, I never saw a guy so anxious as you are to meet up with a fantasy-horror author." "I....well, I...oh, come on. We're wasting time." We packed ourselves into the car and drove off. Rather I should say slithered off, for the tires made a continuous, slushy racket as we splattered through the deep pools of water, left by the shower of the night before. I've never seen the city look so downright "liquid" as it did that morning. "You're kinda nervous today, aren't you? Maybe you should have stayed in bed, huh?" "I tell you nothing is wrong with me, Joe, nothing at all. I..I just had a funny dream last night, that's all, and it put a little damper on my spirits. " "A dream? "What kind of dream? " So I told him. "Well, I fell asleep a little after nine last night. I didn't dream of anything unusual for a while, just the usual thing-- events of the day, then rocket ships, followed by future men, and all that stuff. Then a distinct view blotted out all the others. I seemed to be invisible , but still able to see all that went on around me; and around me was the mansion of Arthur Bristol. As the scene was impressed on my mind, this fellow Bristol came out of his place with a bulky little bundle sticking out of his coat where his chest should have been. "Then the scene shifted, like dreams do. The author appeared in the office of some editor. I remember piles and piles of fat manuscripts laid one on top of the other on a desk. Bristol drew the package from within his coat, revealing a thick manuscript. It changed size and shape several times while the editor pawed t. The fellow barely leafed through the pages before calling an office boy who haul
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8, LEPRECHAUN foghorn kept its voice, and little spheroids of water still dripped lazily from the eaves, to chatter on the tin deck adjoining the room like a thousand angry elves. Why I ever bought a house with assorted tin roofs scattered about I don't know. And so I slept. The next morning, Friday the eleventh, dawned brighter than it had for nearly a week. My spirits rose with the sun, and I whistled my way to the kitchen, retrieved two eggs from the ice box and plunked them into a pan. In a few moments I sat down to breakfast. The gloom returned as the eggs went, and I remembered the dream as i reached for a roll. I put the roll back, having strangely lost my appetite. The dishes washed and put away without mishap, I sat down at nine to think of what I could do with an idle hour or so, I am no different than anyone else, so that hour of idleness seemed just as long to me as it would to you. Every last drop of news was squeezed from the radio, and I guess I must have worn out at least two phonograph needles, and three records. There was nothing of interest in the papers, so I started a cosy fire with them. I was just making myself comfortable in an overstuffed chair taking potahots at a bear rug with a cane, when the bell rang, signifying the arrival of Sandner. "Good morning," I greeted him as he popped into the room. I didn't have to open the door for him. He opens the door with his passkey better than I do with the one that fits, I aimed the cane at him, and pulled an imaginary trigger,. He couldn't see it. "You nuts?" What a man for a reporter. No imagination, none at all. "No, I'm not nuts, and I'm not under the weather, Let's go." I put away the cane, jammed on my hat, hoisted an umbrella, and pushed him through the door. He was slightly quizzical. "Gee, I never saw a guy so anxious as you are to meet up with a fantasy-horror author." "I....well, I...oh, come on. We're wasting time." We packed ourselves into the car and drove off. Rather I should say slithered off, for the tires made a continuous, slushy racket as we splattered through the deep pools of water, left by the shower of the night before. I've never seen the city look so downright "liquid" as it did that morning. "You're kinda nervous today, aren't you? Maybe you should have stayed in bed, huh?" "I tell you nothing is wrong with me, Joe, nothing at all. I..I just had a funny dream last night, that's all, and it put a little damper on my spirits. " "A dream? "What kind of dream? " So I told him. "Well, I fell asleep a little after nine last night. I didn't dream of anything unusual for a while, just the usual thing-- events of the day, then rocket ships, followed by future men, and all that stuff. Then a distinct view blotted out all the others. I seemed to be invisible , but still able to see all that went on around me; and around me was the mansion of Arthur Bristol. As the scene was impressed on my mind, this fellow Bristol came out of his place with a bulky little bundle sticking out of his coat where his chest should have been. "Then the scene shifted, like dreams do. The author appeared in the office of some editor. I remember piles and piles of fat manuscripts laid one on top of the other on a desk. Bristol drew the package from within his coat, revealing a thick manuscript. It changed size and shape several times while the editor pawed t. The fellow barely leafed through the pages before calling an office boy who haul
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