DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Fanfare, v. 2, issue 1, whole no. 7, August 1941

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Fanfare, v. 2, issue 1, whole no. 7, August 1941

Page 16

xvi
fanfare

THE GOAT-HERD

If someone's got your goat -- you'll probably find it here.

Hi fantasts, 

Is it warm enough for you? If this summer sun hasn't been making you hot, subscribe to FANFARE, so that you won't be left out in the cold when the GOATHERD burns you up.

Got a bomb shelter handy? No? Well, draw your blinds and shade your light, for you're going into a 

BLACKOUT:

Once upon a time, Hornig yod of ???? FICTION, was visited by a group of fans who had determined beforehand that they would bear down a little on his magazine get-up. Gathered around a table piled high with science fiction knick knacks and beer, they carried on a lively altercation.

Finally Hornig leaned back in his chair, hooked his thumbs in his upper vest pockets, and smiled beautifically.

"Well, boys," he admitted, "maybe a good many issues of my magazine haven't been as good as you and I would have liked them to be."

He paused and gave the fans a promising nod.

"But you don't want to miss the next issue of ???? FICTION. It will be a swell surprise. Three really fine lead novelettes!"

"No!" chorused his audience pleasedly.

"Yessir," Hornig reiterated. "Three really fine lead novelettes. 

--- By Repp, Kummer Jr., and Van Lorne

--- blackout ---
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
FJA --- UP TO SNUFF

Four e was dead.

His body, the only one in the morgue, lay on a cold marble slab, and was completely covered by a sheet which was tucked in at the corners to keep out the chill air. The morgue was unheated, and the faded blue light that hung above Forry's immortal remains was apparently the only warm thing in the room.

In a corner near the corpse stood a very fine looking purple and gold casket. Its surface glittered eerily, supernaturally, in the dull illumination.

Everything was very quiet, very still. Like unto the famous n.b.c. not even a mouse stirred, throughout the sombre chamber. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere there came a short, hacking sound, closely followed by another of the same. 4e's earthly remnant sat up alertly, allowing the sheet to slide down around his hips.

He eyed the casket dubiously, swept his gaze around the room and then, refocused a questioning stare on the casket, he asked concernedly:

"was that you, coughin'?"

Saving...

xvi fanfare THE GOAT-HERD If someone's got your goat -- you'll probably find it here. Hi fantasts, Is it warm enough for you? If this summer sun hasn't been making you hot, subscribe to FANFARE, so that you won't be left out in the cold when the GOATHERD burns you up. Got a bomb shelter handy? No? Well, draw your blinds and shade your light, for you're going into a BLACKOUT: Once upon a time, Hornig yod of ???? FICTION, was visited by a group of fans who had determined beforehand that they would bear down a little on his magazine get-up. Gathered around a table piled high with science fiction knick knacks and beer, they carried on a lively altercation. Finally Hornig leaned back in his chair, hooked his thumbs in his upper vest pockets, and smiled beautifically. "Well, boys," he admitted, "maybe a good many issues of my magazine haven't been as good as you and I would have liked them to be." He paused and gave the fans a promising nod. "But you don't want to miss the next issue of ???? FICTION. It will be a swell surprise. Three really fine lead novelettes!" "No!" chorused his audience pleasedly. "Yessir," Hornig reiterated. "Three really fine lead novelettes. --- By Repp, Kummer Jr., and Van Lorne --- blackout --- * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * FJA --- UP TO SNUFF Four e was dead. His body, the only one in the morgue, lay on a cold marble slab, and was completely covered by a sheet which was tucked in at the corners to keep out the chill air. The morgue was unheated, and the faded blue light that hung above Forry's immortal remains was apparently the only warm thing in the room. In a corner near the corpse stood a very fine looking purple and gold casket. Its surface glittered eerily, supernaturally, in the dull illumination. Everything was very quiet, very still. Like unto the famous n.b.c. not even a mouse stirred, throughout the sombre chamber. Suddenly, out of nowhere there came a short, hacking sound, closely followed by another of the same. 4e's earthly remnant sat up alertly, allowing the sheet to slide down around his hips. He eyed the casket dubiously, swept his gaze around the room and then, refocused a questioning stare on the casket, he asked concernedly: "was that you, coughin'?"