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Fantasia, v. 1, issue 3, July 1941
Page 18
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18 FANTASIA Djinn Fizz By MICKEY FINN Brraah-whoommmm! went a tremendous clap of thunder, scudding across the ebony sky at the heels of a whiplash of lightening. Wheeee-yowww! whistled the bitter wind. Torrents of rain poured out of the dismal night, drenching the cloaked, top-hatted figure that stalked cautiously, on tip-toe, up the front-steps of the malevolent mansion. The ManInTheBlueTopper hesitated before the ancient oaken timbers of the great front door. This was a forbidding fortress that loomed above him in the catastrophic night. The sinister sanitarium of the perfidious Dr. Phlub. It was old and demoniac, a grinning, bleached skull of a house perched atop the gaunt, rocky ribs of the desolate hill. The shutters banged and rattled in the gale. There was dirty work to be done this night! The ManInTheBlueTopper carefully sequestered his Junior G-Men badge before slamming the great brazen knocker against the door. The sound reverberated through the tottering structure, whispering of nameless things within. "Gad!" shivered the ManInTheBlueTopper, decanting a quick one from the portable liquor cabinet he carried in a shoulder-holster. Down the hatch sailed a U-235 Special -- rum, 7-Up & aspirin -- followed immediately by a kerosene chaser. While he waited for the explosion, the ManInTheBlueTopper examined the door sign -- No Goblins or Leprechauns -- and noted the sky-high neon letters that blazed from the sanitarium roof -- Off Your Trolley? This Is The Car-Barn! The great oaken door swung slowly open, creaking on rusty hinges. A dim, gaunt figure stood within, leering at the intruder through jagged vampire-teeth. "Oogh?" inquired the creature in American patois. "I'm seeing 'em," explained the ManInTheBlueTopper, with a resounding hic and a despairing shake of the head. "I'm here for the three-week cure." "Oogh," returned the wolfish figure politely, smacking his chops and motioning the visitor inside. A peal of mad laughter rang through the old house, followed by a shuddering, gurgling shriek of pain that bubbled away into a throbbing moan. Heart in his throat, the ManInTheBlueTopper stepped through the doorway of the carnivorous castle. Would he ever emerge alive? Would his secret government mission be accomplished? Would the phlegmatic Dr. Phlub find his foul plans frustrated? "Aha!" sneered the infamous Dr. Phlub, peering up from his fizzling retorts and fuming beakers. "So you've come for the cure, eh?" Sulphuric acid drooled from the corners of his thick lips. "Seeing things, eh? What kind of things, eh?" "Spots," said the ManInTheBlueTopper. "Green ones with pink rings around 'em." "Uhum!" grunted the insidious Dr. Phlub. "Been reading TWS and Startling lately?" "Well -- ah -- yes, I have," admitted the ManInTheBlueTopper shamefacedly. "And Cap Future, too," he concluded, with downcast eyes, and blushing furiously. The dastardly Dr. Phlub shook his head. "Sad case," he muttered thickly. "But we can fix you up..." He chuckled sadistically, and rattled a hatful of bloody scalpels
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18 FANTASIA Djinn Fizz By MICKEY FINN Brraah-whoommmm! went a tremendous clap of thunder, scudding across the ebony sky at the heels of a whiplash of lightening. Wheeee-yowww! whistled the bitter wind. Torrents of rain poured out of the dismal night, drenching the cloaked, top-hatted figure that stalked cautiously, on tip-toe, up the front-steps of the malevolent mansion. The ManInTheBlueTopper hesitated before the ancient oaken timbers of the great front door. This was a forbidding fortress that loomed above him in the catastrophic night. The sinister sanitarium of the perfidious Dr. Phlub. It was old and demoniac, a grinning, bleached skull of a house perched atop the gaunt, rocky ribs of the desolate hill. The shutters banged and rattled in the gale. There was dirty work to be done this night! The ManInTheBlueTopper carefully sequestered his Junior G-Men badge before slamming the great brazen knocker against the door. The sound reverberated through the tottering structure, whispering of nameless things within. "Gad!" shivered the ManInTheBlueTopper, decanting a quick one from the portable liquor cabinet he carried in a shoulder-holster. Down the hatch sailed a U-235 Special -- rum, 7-Up & aspirin -- followed immediately by a kerosene chaser. While he waited for the explosion, the ManInTheBlueTopper examined the door sign -- No Goblins or Leprechauns -- and noted the sky-high neon letters that blazed from the sanitarium roof -- Off Your Trolley? This Is The Car-Barn! The great oaken door swung slowly open, creaking on rusty hinges. A dim, gaunt figure stood within, leering at the intruder through jagged vampire-teeth. "Oogh?" inquired the creature in American patois. "I'm seeing 'em," explained the ManInTheBlueTopper, with a resounding hic and a despairing shake of the head. "I'm here for the three-week cure." "Oogh," returned the wolfish figure politely, smacking his chops and motioning the visitor inside. A peal of mad laughter rang through the old house, followed by a shuddering, gurgling shriek of pain that bubbled away into a throbbing moan. Heart in his throat, the ManInTheBlueTopper stepped through the doorway of the carnivorous castle. Would he ever emerge alive? Would his secret government mission be accomplished? Would the phlegmatic Dr. Phlub find his foul plans frustrated? "Aha!" sneered the infamous Dr. Phlub, peering up from his fizzling retorts and fuming beakers. "So you've come for the cure, eh?" Sulphuric acid drooled from the corners of his thick lips. "Seeing things, eh? What kind of things, eh?" "Spots," said the ManInTheBlueTopper. "Green ones with pink rings around 'em." "Uhum!" grunted the insidious Dr. Phlub. "Been reading TWS and Startling lately?" "Well -- ah -- yes, I have," admitted the ManInTheBlueTopper shamefacedly. "And Cap Future, too," he concluded, with downcast eyes, and blushing furiously. The dastardly Dr. Phlub shook his head. "Sad case," he muttered thickly. "But we can fix you up..." He chuckled sadistically, and rattled a hatful of bloody scalpels
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