DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Spaceways, v. 4, issue 1, whole no. 24, December 1941

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Spaceways, v. 4, issue 1, whole no. 24, December 1941

8                                                  SPACEWAYS

        IF I WEREWOLF
                Part I 
                  by
        LOUIS RUSSELL CHAUVENET

To begin with, it was all the rabbit's fault. I don't admit the creature had any right to stage a war dance on my nose two hours before sunrise, never mind what sort of excuses he thought up later. When I swore at the confounded Easter bunny which had interrupted my innocent slumbers, I maintain that I was acting well within my rights. Was it any fault of mine if Art got sore? 
   "I realize," said the rabbit, "that I shouldn't have landed on your face, but I haven't been used to being a rabbit, and I got my aim wrong. All the same, you aren't being very helpful."
   "Why should I be helpful?" I inquired.
   "Well, for one thing," continued my white-furred friend, "I am ordinarily known as Art Widner Jr, and for another, the problem ought to interest your scientific curiosity, if any." The rabbit paused to scratch itself vigorously behind the ear with its lefthind foot, giving me a chance to realize that I had been experiencing mental telepathy without knowing it, for I'm deaf as Death, and yet I'd apparently heard what the rabbit said. 
   "It's part of the powers," the rabbit went on nervously, "and like some other things, I haven't got it altogether figured out yet. Anyway, you know I work the 4 to 12 midnight shift for P & G, and lots of the time I'm left much to myself, with little to do except keep an eye on a few vats of stewing chemicals every once in a while. So I started some private research in my spare time, just to give me something to do, and the first thing I knew, I got mixed up into this mess." He drummed irritably on the carpet with his hind feet.
   "Who's your magician friend, Mandrake?" I asked. "Is it permanent? May I keep you for a pet? I always did rather want a rabbit. Useful thing to have around, for experiments, you know."
   "It was the pebble, it must have been the pebble," said the rabbit, gloomily. "Before, it was just good gin that came out, when the pebble dropped in by mistake, the drink told me it was different. I knew what had happened—I knew I was a werewolf, and could assume any animal shape I cared to, until dawn, but—I tried to be a tiger, like Jack Williamson wrote about. I don't know how to change back again. I know I have to, at dawn, but I'm afraid I can't do it. Besides, my car is parked right outside the plant, but even if I am a werewolf, how can I drive a car like this?" And he waved a paw toward himself.
   "Well," I yawned, "didn't the story say you could squeeze through cracks?"—I did: that's how I got in here." "—" And run for miles at tremendous speeds? Can't you go home, and wake up OK in your own place later?" 
   "Yes, but how'd I ever explain leaving the car at the plant? And the pebble—don't forget that. We've got to get the pebble, or there's no telling. And you've got to help me change back, before it's too late."
   "How do I do that?" I inquired. "Hypnotize you?"
   "Not exactly," said the rabbit, "but you've got to cooperate. Believe that I am changing to the shape of Art Widner, concentrate on that belief. It will make just the difference, I hope."
   "Wait a minute—let me think. Hmm, how do I know you're really Art, and not just an—er—well, would-be double? If you're Art, you can give me the password we arranged, if you're not, you probably can't, and I won't agree to help."

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8 SPACEWAYS IF I WEREWOLF Part I by LOUIS RUSSELL CHAUVENET To begin with, it was all the rabbit's fault. I don't admit the creature had any right to stage a war dance on my nose two hours before sunrise, never mind what sort of excuses he thought up later. When I swore at the confounded Easter bunny which had interrupted my innocent slumbers, I maintain that I was acting well within my rights. Was it any fault of mine if Art got sore? "I realize," said the rabbit, "that I shouldn't have landed on your face, but I haven't been used to being a rabbit, and I got my aim wrong. All the same, you aren't being very helpful." "Why should I be helpful?" I inquired. "Well, for one thing," continued my white-furred friend, "I am ordinarily known as Art Widner Jr, and for another, the problem ought to interest your scientific curiosity, if any." The rabbit paused to scratch itself vigorously behind the ear with its lefthind foot, giving me a chance to realize that I had been experiencing mental telepathy without knowing it, for I'm deaf as Death, and yet I'd apparently heard what the rabbit said. "It's part of the powers," the rabbit went on nervously, "and like some other things, I haven't got it altogether figured out yet. Anyway, you know I work the 4 to 12 midnight shift for P & G, and lots of the time I'm left much to myself, with little to do except keep an eye on a few vats of stewing chemicals every once in a while. So I started some private research in my spare time, just to give me something to do, and the first thing I knew, I got mixed up into this mess." He drummed irritably on the carpet with his hind feet. "Who's your magician friend, Mandrake?" I asked. "Is it permanent? May I keep you for a pet? I always did rather want a rabbit. Useful thing to have around, for experiments, you know." "It was the pebble, it must have been the pebble," said the rabbit, gloomily. "Before, it was just good gin that came out, when the pebble dropped in by mistake, the drink told me it was different. I knew what had happened—I knew I was a werewolf, and could assume any animal shape I cared to, until dawn, but—I tried to be a tiger, like Jack Williamson wrote about. I don't know how to change back again. I know I have to, at dawn, but I'm afraid I can't do it. Besides, my car is parked right outside the plant, but even if I am a werewolf, how can I drive a car like this?" And he waved a paw toward himself. "Well," I yawned, "didn't the story say you could squeeze through cracks?"—I did: that's how I got in here." "—" And run for miles at tremendous speeds? Can't you go home, and wake up OK in your own place later?" "Yes, but how'd I ever explain leaving the car at the plant? And the pebble—don't forget that. We've got to get the pebble, or there's no telling. And you've got to help me change back, before it's too late." "How do I do that?" I inquired. "Hypnotize you?" "Not exactly," said the rabbit, "but you've got to cooperate. Believe that I am changing to the shape of Art Widner, concentrate on that belief. It will make just the difference, I hope." "Wait a minute—let me think. Hmm, how do I know you're really Art, and not just an—er—well, would-be double? If you're Art, you can give me the password we arranged, if you're not, you probably can't, and I won't agree to help."