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Fan-Atic, v. 2, issue 2, whole no. 5, September 1941
Page 14
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"AS THE WIND LISTETH......" (Continued.) En route to my new job, down here in the mimic-war zone in Louisiana, I stopped over for five hours in St. Louis. I had hopes of meeting Robert Moore Williams, one of my favorite correspondants, while there. But when I phoned, he had left for the golf course. He must be made of asbestos. The Widner Caravaners, who thought it was so hot in Nebraska, should visit St. Louis. I don't mind a comparitively cool 100; but when it gets as it was in St. Louis July 23; -- well, Palmer didn't exaggerate any when he called it "the hot city." I have a horrible suspicion that Bob W. skipped from the first hole directly to the nineteenth, that day. If he didn't, he sould have -------------------------------------------------------------------- The PACIFICON in Fairty-Wan Would have made a nifty rhyme; But it's Shangri-La in Fairty-Twa '-- For a really glorius time. (That's worse than the last one. I hope CAB can't find room for it.) Hasta proxima vez. (So long, to you!) ********************* "THE QUEST THAT FAILED." by Oscar J. Stumble. This is a saga of a quest; a quest that failed, unfortunately. It was pursued by those two gallant knights of the South, Gilbert and Jenkins. If any of you have everhad the same experience, these two can feel the terrors and the hardships with you. For they, too, had a quest. But on the tale. It all started one night at a meeting of the Columbia Camp, when Joe carelessly mentioned that Widner and his carload of Denventioneers would drop down upon the Hermit of Hagerstown and scare Warner half to death for a little time. Jenkins, sipping upon a glass of water, jumped to his feet, and dope that he is (are you listening jinx?) ((No, he can't read )), he immediately suggested that a trip to Hagerstown be undertaken. The meetings of the Camp occur on Friday nights and Saturday mornings, and Widner was to drop into Hagerstown on Sunday, which meant that the trip would have to be started on Saturday. Eastman promptly gurgled an assent in favor of Jenkin's proposal, and Gilbert swooned. He's always doing some annoying thing like that. Panurge, who was in town for the week-end, slipped out into the MacQueen's kitchenette. When he returned, his breathing was again normal. "Panurge," said Eastman, "have you been in my ice water?" "Water," Panurge answered, "what's that? Such a strange word." Eastman leaned back in his chair, content that his water was safe. "Is -- ain't -- aren't --- are we going to Hagerstown, or nor?" Jenkins was reiterating his proposal. "We Are!" Gilbert had leaped to his feet and now he supported Jenkins. "If we have to walk, we'll go. I have spoken." "Here. Have some ice water." Eastman was very subtle about shutting him up. Panurge merely growled something about you don't live but once. "We are not going to Hagerstown," Eastman said with determination as the Camp broke up in the wee hours of Saturday morning. Ah hah, but he didn't count on the stolid determination and courage, plus walking power, of his two cohorts, Jenkins and Gilbert. At the simply atrocious hour of 9 A.M. Jenkins was up and out looking for a telephone. After racing all over the neighborhood, he ended up at the grocery store, desperately trying to get in reach with Bradford. Bradford is a nice chappie whose father is a staff captain in the National Guard. His pop being away on maneuvers at the time, we had vain hopes of using his car. (Continued on next page.)
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"AS THE WIND LISTETH......" (Continued.) En route to my new job, down here in the mimic-war zone in Louisiana, I stopped over for five hours in St. Louis. I had hopes of meeting Robert Moore Williams, one of my favorite correspondants, while there. But when I phoned, he had left for the golf course. He must be made of asbestos. The Widner Caravaners, who thought it was so hot in Nebraska, should visit St. Louis. I don't mind a comparitively cool 100; but when it gets as it was in St. Louis July 23; -- well, Palmer didn't exaggerate any when he called it "the hot city." I have a horrible suspicion that Bob W. skipped from the first hole directly to the nineteenth, that day. If he didn't, he sould have -------------------------------------------------------------------- The PACIFICON in Fairty-Wan Would have made a nifty rhyme; But it's Shangri-La in Fairty-Twa '-- For a really glorius time. (That's worse than the last one. I hope CAB can't find room for it.) Hasta proxima vez. (So long, to you!) ********************* "THE QUEST THAT FAILED." by Oscar J. Stumble. This is a saga of a quest; a quest that failed, unfortunately. It was pursued by those two gallant knights of the South, Gilbert and Jenkins. If any of you have everhad the same experience, these two can feel the terrors and the hardships with you. For they, too, had a quest. But on the tale. It all started one night at a meeting of the Columbia Camp, when Joe carelessly mentioned that Widner and his carload of Denventioneers would drop down upon the Hermit of Hagerstown and scare Warner half to death for a little time. Jenkins, sipping upon a glass of water, jumped to his feet, and dope that he is (are you listening jinx?) ((No, he can't read )), he immediately suggested that a trip to Hagerstown be undertaken. The meetings of the Camp occur on Friday nights and Saturday mornings, and Widner was to drop into Hagerstown on Sunday, which meant that the trip would have to be started on Saturday. Eastman promptly gurgled an assent in favor of Jenkin's proposal, and Gilbert swooned. He's always doing some annoying thing like that. Panurge, who was in town for the week-end, slipped out into the MacQueen's kitchenette. When he returned, his breathing was again normal. "Panurge," said Eastman, "have you been in my ice water?" "Water," Panurge answered, "what's that? Such a strange word." Eastman leaned back in his chair, content that his water was safe. "Is -- ain't -- aren't --- are we going to Hagerstown, or nor?" Jenkins was reiterating his proposal. "We Are!" Gilbert had leaped to his feet and now he supported Jenkins. "If we have to walk, we'll go. I have spoken." "Here. Have some ice water." Eastman was very subtle about shutting him up. Panurge merely growled something about you don't live but once. "We are not going to Hagerstown," Eastman said with determination as the Camp broke up in the wee hours of Saturday morning. Ah hah, but he didn't count on the stolid determination and courage, plus walking power, of his two cohorts, Jenkins and Gilbert. At the simply atrocious hour of 9 A.M. Jenkins was up and out looking for a telephone. After racing all over the neighborhood, he ended up at the grocery store, desperately trying to get in reach with Bradford. Bradford is a nice chappie whose father is a staff captain in the National Guard. His pop being away on maneuvers at the time, we had vain hopes of using his car. (Continued on next page.)
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