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Milty's Mag, June 1941

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Milty's Mag  Page two

All this time the audience kept pouring in, and they gazed with much interest at the many exhibits that lined the wall. Balty's paintings were colorful and fantastic, and also gruesome. Speer's photographs were well known by this time. His clever scenes from other planets were so natural looking that you wondered why it hadn't been announced that space travel was an accomplished fact. Johnny Michel was present with his group of abstract, nearly four-dimensional sculptures. Colored glasses were provided for those whose constitution s were not strong enough to bear the eye-wrenching curves through infinity.

Suddenly silence fell, making a very loud noise doing so.

From the east door stalked Wollheim, and from the west portal swaggered Sykora. Hands nervously reached for holsters and for sword handles. Jack Gillespie, garbed to represent Hawk Corso, stood there easily, blowing the bangs out of his eyes, slender hands twitching near the butts of his ray guns. The faint at heart retreated to the [lee?] of the bar, below which they remained for the remainder of the evening, gaily quaffing the alien and exotic brews concocted for them by M. Pohl.

Groups of costumed conventioneers shifted their positions to strategic points along the front. Ackerman, in Kimball-Kinnison grey, snicked the switch of his ray screen, and moved his DeLameter to the front of his belt. Elmer Perdue, in shirt of obscure and shifting colors, with words of horrible portent engraved thereon, moved his mouth in strange incantations, Kornbluth sneered, and three of the opposition collapsed. 

Then the tensity was broken by a cheery laugh that ended upon a sinister note. "Ah! Friend Sykora!" Wollheim strode forward and grasped the other's hand. 

It wasn't till the next day that it was disclosed that Wollheim had been wearing invisible gloves strewn with ivy poison. Sykora was the first to find it out. 

A siren shrieked through the bedlam. The crowd scattered to the corners of the room, frantically searching for air raid shelters. Then they recalled it was the chairman's quaint way of calling the meeting to order. It was the only way he could manage to be heard. The rush for seats was accompanied by many and varied strange noises: bellows, wails, shrieks, while the fans ran, slithered, crawled to their places. Some ended up hanging from the ceiling, which had cunningly been fitted with trailing vines for the purpose.

Milty was chairman. His was the strangest costume of all. He started out impeccably tailored in white tie, tails, and top hat. Later on in the course of the meeting he began to grow evanescent. He would waver, and at times the wall behind him could be seen. Gradually he disappeared, and there was only a voice speaking from the air. Then a luminous body began to radiate from a point about two feet below the ceiling. It's [sic] brilliance became intolerable, and tentacles reached out from it to all sides of the room. Then the tentacles changed into green,

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Milty's Mag Page two All this time the audience kept pouring in, and they gazed with much interest at the many exhibits that lined the wall. Balty's paintings were colorful and fantastic, and also gruesome. Speer's photographs were well known by this time. His clever scenes from other planets were so natural looking that you wondered why it hadn't been announced that space travel was an accomplished fact. Johnny Michel was present with his group of abstract, nearly four-dimensional sculptures. Colored glasses were provided for those whose constitution s were not strong enough to bear the eye-wrenching curves through infinity. Suddenly silence fell, making a very loud noise doing so. From the east door stalked Wollheim, and from the west portal swaggered Sykora. Hands nervously reached for holsters and for sword handles. Jack Gillespie, garbed to represent Hawk Corso, stood there easily, blowing the bangs out of his eyes, slender hands twitching near the butts of his ray guns. The faint at heart retreated to the [lee?] of the bar, below which they remained for the remainder of the evening, gaily quaffing the alien and exotic brews concocted for them by M. Pohl. Groups of costumed conventioneers shifted their positions to strategic points along the front. Ackerman, in Kimball-Kinnison grey, snicked the switch of his ray screen, and moved his DeLameter to the front of his belt. Elmer Perdue, in shirt of obscure and shifting colors, with words of horrible portent engraved thereon, moved his mouth in strange incantations, Kornbluth sneered, and three of the opposition collapsed. Then the tensity was broken by a cheery laugh that ended upon a sinister note. "Ah! Friend Sykora!" Wollheim strode forward and grasped the other's hand. It wasn't till the next day that it was disclosed that Wollheim had been wearing invisible gloves strewn with ivy poison. Sykora was the first to find it out. A siren shrieked through the bedlam. The crowd scattered to the corners of the room, frantically searching for air raid shelters. Then they recalled it was the chairman's quaint way of calling the meeting to order. It was the only way he could manage to be heard. The rush for seats was accompanied by many and varied strange noises: bellows, wails, shrieks, while the fans ran, slithered, crawled to their places. Some ended up hanging from the ceiling, which had cunningly been fitted with trailing vines for the purpose. Milty was chairman. His was the strangest costume of all. He started out impeccably tailored in white tie, tails, and top hat. Later on in the course of the meeting he began to grow evanescent. He would waver, and at times the wall behind him could be seen. Gradually he disappeared, and there was only a voice speaking from the air. Then a luminous body began to radiate from a point about two feet below the ceiling. It's [sic] brilliance became intolerable, and tentacles reached out from it to all sides of the room. Then the tentacles changed into green,