DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Fanfare, v. 1, issue 3, August 1940

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Fanfare, v. 1, issue 3, August 1940

Page 7

FANFARE                          7

"Here's a letter I overlooked," he announced, then read it.

"Dear Mr. Snipper: 
       I recently came across a copy of your magazine, and think the stories are the most horrible tripe upon which I have the misfortune to cast my eyes.
       They are unreal, and nauseating in the extreme, to one who knows anything at all of the supernatural, with which your magazine is supposed to deal.
      Enclosed you will find a story I have written, which I can assure you is the real thing, as I have personally experienced some of the situations described therein, and know whereof I speak. I think you would do well to publish it. I seek no numuneration. I merely wish to see good literature take the place of rubbish. 
      Supernaturally yours,
                    Vincent Van Pyer

P.S. If you reject this manuscript for any reason, I would appreciate the pleasure of a personal visit from you, so I could find out just what is wrong with my style. Meet me at the entrance of Scraggly Hill Cemetery any evening after sunset. I find the night more stimulation, both mentally and physically, so I would be better prepared to discuss things with you."

"Jeez," said Sam, "that sounds even more vampirish than the story."
      "Don't be a complete idiot," said Snipper, "Just to show you how stupid you are, I'm going to return this manuscript to this crank personally, and tell him off for the egotistical, ignorantly idealistic fan that he is. These fans write one story and think they're world-beaters. Well, I'll show you, and him too."
***********************************
     The next night found editor Snipper at the entrance of the cemetery. A brisk breeze blew a few scattered raindrops from the trees with a quick pattering sound, as of small, running feet. Heat lightning capered about the receding storm. He shifted his feet and sat on the stone wall, muttering to himself. 
      "Guess this fellow isn't going to show up," he grumbled. "I'd better cook up a good story so Booblebaum won't have the laugh on me tomorrow."
      He immediately jumped two feet from his sitting position, when a cavernous voice at his elbow said, "Mr. Snipper, I believe?"
      It was Vincent, talkinginto a milk bottle. He vaulted over the wall, and shook hands with the edition. "You'll pardon my little job, I hope," he said, indicating the bottle.
      Snipper laughed nastily. "Heheh, that's quite all right. I hope you will pardon the rejection of your manuscript, but I thought it quite unsuitable for our publication." He handed Vincent the bulky envelope.
      "Why?" asked Vincent, "Don't you publish SUPERNATURAL STORIES? Was it not well written? Wasn't the plot well executed? Weren't the characters real?"

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FANFARE 7 "Here's a letter I overlooked," he announced, then read it. "Dear Mr. Snipper: I recently came across a copy of your magazine, and think the stories are the most horrible tripe upon which I have the misfortune to cast my eyes. They are unreal, and nauseating in the extreme, to one who knows anything at all of the supernatural, with which your magazine is supposed to deal. Enclosed you will find a story I have written, which I can assure you is the real thing, as I have personally experienced some of the situations described therein, and know whereof I speak. I think you would do well to publish it. I seek no numuneration. I merely wish to see good literature take the place of rubbish. Supernaturally yours, Vincent Van Pyer P.S. If you reject this manuscript for any reason, I would appreciate the pleasure of a personal visit from you, so I could find out just what is wrong with my style. Meet me at the entrance of Scraggly Hill Cemetery any evening after sunset. I find the night more stimulation, both mentally and physically, so I would be better prepared to discuss things with you." "Jeez," said Sam, "that sounds even more vampirish than the story." "Don't be a complete idiot," said Snipper, "Just to show you how stupid you are, I'm going to return this manuscript to this crank personally, and tell him off for the egotistical, ignorantly idealistic fan that he is. These fans write one story and think they're world-beaters. Well, I'll show you, and him too." *********************************** The next night found editor Snipper at the entrance of the cemetery. A brisk breeze blew a few scattered raindrops from the trees with a quick pattering sound, as of small, running feet. Heat lightning capered about the receding storm. He shifted his feet and sat on the stone wall, muttering to himself. "Guess this fellow isn't going to show up," he grumbled. "I'd better cook up a good story so Booblebaum won't have the laugh on me tomorrow." He immediately jumped two feet from his sitting position, when a cavernous voice at his elbow said, "Mr. Snipper, I believe?" It was Vincent, talkinginto a milk bottle. He vaulted over the wall, and shook hands with the edition. "You'll pardon my little job, I hope," he said, indicating the bottle. Snipper laughed nastily. "Heheh, that's quite all right. I hope you will pardon the rejection of your manuscript, but I thought it quite unsuitable for our publication." He handed Vincent the bulky envelope. "Why?" asked Vincent, "Don't you publish SUPERNATURAL STORIES? Was it not well written? Wasn't the plot well executed? Weren't the characters real?"