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Rosebud, v. 1, issue 4, April 1945
Page 15
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THE REVOLT OF THE MERMAIDS -or- Minnie Isn't Skinny Anymore by Walt Leibscher Tarkle Stringent lay on his bed of roses and mused. He was tired beyond belief. He had just made up his mind to tell his boff oss. Working in a bakery wasn't a pleasant way of making dough. He didn't mind hatching the dough to make eggshell tarts, or even punching the holes out of doughnuts by exerting furious energy with a pogo stick, but crawling thru empty cream puffs and dragging the cream after him was sheer drudgery. "Enuff," cried Tarkle, with considerable bravado as he bounded from the bed, "enuff of this slavery. I'll hit him in the puss with a razzberry turnover, that's what I'll do. I'll take a trip to the ocean and see the world. On second thot -- I'll hit him in the face with two razzberry turnovers and pinge his nose with a ginger snap for measure. "I shall be a man of the world; women will throw themselves at my feet; perhaps I even may be marooned on a desert island, the king of all I survey. I shall dine on passion fruit and Hawaiian powe; wimmen still flock to me at my slightest whisper..." And so far into the night -- *** Tarkle was a slight shade of pea green around the gills. Constant regurgitation had made him the worse for wear. His stomach felt as if it were coated with rebellious peach fuzz. In brief, Tarkle was sick. The ship had blithely entered a cyclone, the mizzenmast had been ripped away by the furious winds and the poop deck was pooped out. The sea was angry and churned furiously. Our hero was seasick and his stomach churned furiously. Suddenly the ship was rent asunder by a permanent wave, and our hero was thrown to the mercy of the violent waters. "This is the end!" he cried as he sank beneath the briny Frankenstein. *** "This must be the end," Tarkle reiterated. "Now ain't that a choice bit derduction?" came a slightly vexed feminine voice seemingly out of nowhere, "and furthermore, it might interest you to know it belongs to me, and I wish you'd get off of it." Tarkle opened his eyes and was astounded to see he was sitting on a huge fish. On second glance the thing was only half fish, the other half being the top part of a woman. "Well swan my hide and call me spotless," he gasped, "a mermaid." "What did you expect, an octopus?" "Say, why ain't I dead?" demanded Tarkle.
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THE REVOLT OF THE MERMAIDS -or- Minnie Isn't Skinny Anymore by Walt Leibscher Tarkle Stringent lay on his bed of roses and mused. He was tired beyond belief. He had just made up his mind to tell his boff oss. Working in a bakery wasn't a pleasant way of making dough. He didn't mind hatching the dough to make eggshell tarts, or even punching the holes out of doughnuts by exerting furious energy with a pogo stick, but crawling thru empty cream puffs and dragging the cream after him was sheer drudgery. "Enuff," cried Tarkle, with considerable bravado as he bounded from the bed, "enuff of this slavery. I'll hit him in the puss with a razzberry turnover, that's what I'll do. I'll take a trip to the ocean and see the world. On second thot -- I'll hit him in the face with two razzberry turnovers and pinge his nose with a ginger snap for measure. "I shall be a man of the world; women will throw themselves at my feet; perhaps I even may be marooned on a desert island, the king of all I survey. I shall dine on passion fruit and Hawaiian powe; wimmen still flock to me at my slightest whisper..." And so far into the night -- *** Tarkle was a slight shade of pea green around the gills. Constant regurgitation had made him the worse for wear. His stomach felt as if it were coated with rebellious peach fuzz. In brief, Tarkle was sick. The ship had blithely entered a cyclone, the mizzenmast had been ripped away by the furious winds and the poop deck was pooped out. The sea was angry and churned furiously. Our hero was seasick and his stomach churned furiously. Suddenly the ship was rent asunder by a permanent wave, and our hero was thrown to the mercy of the violent waters. "This is the end!" he cried as he sank beneath the briny Frankenstein. *** "This must be the end," Tarkle reiterated. "Now ain't that a choice bit derduction?" came a slightly vexed feminine voice seemingly out of nowhere, "and furthermore, it might interest you to know it belongs to me, and I wish you'd get off of it." Tarkle opened his eyes and was astounded to see he was sitting on a huge fish. On second glance the thing was only half fish, the other half being the top part of a woman. "Well swan my hide and call me spotless," he gasped, "a mermaid." "What did you expect, an octopus?" "Say, why ain't I dead?" demanded Tarkle.
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