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Shangri-La, issue 5, March-April 1948
Page 5
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Al wanted to know who my Mickey Mouse friend was, but I didn't tell him. I was embarrassed at having been so completely fooled, and, because it was Morton who had fooled me. He was an unhealthy looking runt. That had been obvious in the glare from the fluorescent tubes. He still had his idiotic frightened look, and that was hard for me to explain away, until I happened to remember that I had once noticed that many middle-aged Slavic Women have that look. It's something about the skin around the eyes -- not the eyes themselves. Morton always looked frightened -- just the way some people always look stupid---- or angry . . . . I was angry, because I was certain that Morton had set out to fool me. I was always sitting around somewhere in those days, and he had spotted me - I am easy to spot - and picked me, correctly, as a sucker for that sort of approach. I don't know why it didn't occur to me that his attempt to fool me was almost as wonderful as the mysterious thing that I half-believed about him, but it didn't. I certainly didn't want to see Morton again, to be reminded of what a fool I'd bee, but I did see him once more. The third, and last time that I saw Morton was in the October of that same year. This time he didn't see me. Ann and I had been playing bridge with the Welanders in their apartment, and Ann was waiting in the doorway while I went to get the car. I saw Morton as he passed under an arc lamp across the street. He was hurrying---almost running---and he kept glancing back over his shoulder. My belief in Morton was restored. I regretted the harsh things that I had thought about him, for I could see what he had seen. By the light of the arc lamp, I could see the dead leaves on the ground. They were following him. END Remember the TORCON! It's the 6th Annual Science Fiction Convention, and it's to be held in Toronto. Send your dollar membership fee to Ned McKeown, 1390 Mt. Pleasant Rd., Toronto (12), Ontario, Canada. Help make the affair a huge success. - 5 -
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Al wanted to know who my Mickey Mouse friend was, but I didn't tell him. I was embarrassed at having been so completely fooled, and, because it was Morton who had fooled me. He was an unhealthy looking runt. That had been obvious in the glare from the fluorescent tubes. He still had his idiotic frightened look, and that was hard for me to explain away, until I happened to remember that I had once noticed that many middle-aged Slavic Women have that look. It's something about the skin around the eyes -- not the eyes themselves. Morton always looked frightened -- just the way some people always look stupid---- or angry . . . . I was angry, because I was certain that Morton had set out to fool me. I was always sitting around somewhere in those days, and he had spotted me - I am easy to spot - and picked me, correctly, as a sucker for that sort of approach. I don't know why it didn't occur to me that his attempt to fool me was almost as wonderful as the mysterious thing that I half-believed about him, but it didn't. I certainly didn't want to see Morton again, to be reminded of what a fool I'd bee, but I did see him once more. The third, and last time that I saw Morton was in the October of that same year. This time he didn't see me. Ann and I had been playing bridge with the Welanders in their apartment, and Ann was waiting in the doorway while I went to get the car. I saw Morton as he passed under an arc lamp across the street. He was hurrying---almost running---and he kept glancing back over his shoulder. My belief in Morton was restored. I regretted the harsh things that I had thought about him, for I could see what he had seen. By the light of the arc lamp, I could see the dead leaves on the ground. They were following him. END Remember the TORCON! It's the 6th Annual Science Fiction Convention, and it's to be held in Toronto. Send your dollar membership fee to Ned McKeown, 1390 Mt. Pleasant Rd., Toronto (12), Ontario, Canada. Help make the affair a huge success. - 5 -
Al queria saber quem era meu amigo Mickey Mouse, mas eu não contei para ele. Eu estava envergonhado em ter sido competamente enganado, e também por ter sido Marton a me enganar. Ele era um nanico de aparência pouco saudável. Estava óbvio pelo brilho dos condutos flourescentes. Ele ainda possuia aquele olhar idiota e assustado, e era difícil para mim explicar, até me ocorrer que eu uma vez percebera que muitas mulheres slavicas de meia idade possuia esse mesmo olhar.
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