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Snide, issue 1, May 1940
Page 30
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Willus Smith was a young man with a long and uninteresting past, and no future. He didn't have a present, either, because nobody gave him any, not even on Christmas. WIllus' place of residence, at this time, was a - well - a tavern, called the Golden Spacesuit, on Sirius Major; so named because of the gold-painted suit which stood in a corner of it. Here Willus whiled away the hours by alternatively drinking and being kicked out. The hours were free, anyway. One day the monotony of Willus' existence was broken by the coming of a wonderful-looking stranger to the Golden Spacesuit. Stepping absently over the pieces of the monotony, this stranger sank wearily into a chair and hollered for the proprietor. 'Oy!' said the proprietor, when he appeared from the mysterious depths of the tavern. 'My brand-new monotony! And what happened to my chair, yet?' 'He sank into it,' volunteered Willus, cheerfully. 'My, my,' said the proprietor. 'Yes,' said the long-face stranger, sadly, 'it is my curse and the band of my existence.' 'I bane have a purty uncomfortable existence,' he added. He picked up a glass of vodka and drained it at a gulp. Immediately it formed a widening pool at his feet. 'My! So soon?' said the proprietor. 'I'm immaterial, you see,' explained the stranger. 'Things go through me, and I go through things. It was that Girl from Infinity. She put a curse on me. And nowhere,' his voice rose to a wail, n̲o̲w̲h̲e̲r̲e̲ have I found any-
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Willus Smith was a young man with a long and uninteresting past, and no future. He didn't have a present, either, because nobody gave him any, not even on Christmas. WIllus' place of residence, at this time, was a - well - a tavern, called the Golden Spacesuit, on Sirius Major; so named because of the gold-painted suit which stood in a corner of it. Here Willus whiled away the hours by alternatively drinking and being kicked out. The hours were free, anyway. One day the monotony of Willus' existence was broken by the coming of a wonderful-looking stranger to the Golden Spacesuit. Stepping absently over the pieces of the monotony, this stranger sank wearily into a chair and hollered for the proprietor. 'Oy!' said the proprietor, when he appeared from the mysterious depths of the tavern. 'My brand-new monotony! And what happened to my chair, yet?' 'He sank into it,' volunteered Willus, cheerfully. 'My, my,' said the proprietor. 'Yes,' said the long-face stranger, sadly, 'it is my curse and the band of my existence.' 'I bane have a purty uncomfortable existence,' he added. He picked up a glass of vodka and drained it at a gulp. Immediately it formed a widening pool at his feet. 'My! So soon?' said the proprietor. 'I'm immaterial, you see,' explained the stranger. 'Things go through me, and I go through things. It was that Girl from Infinity. She put a curse on me. And nowhere,' his voice rose to a wail, n̲o̲w̲h̲e̲r̲e̲ have I found any-
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