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Snide, issue 2, February 1941
Page 20
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cats) and scratching cryptic figures in it with a stick[.?] This was scarcely encouraging. Nevertheless, we prepared for the long voyage with grim determination and a case of Mickey Finn, 1992. Captain Batwell sagaciously rid the ship of all Jovian bedbugs and cooties. This we did by spraying the inside of the ship with kerosene and setting it alight. A full day we waited, with the flames crackling merrily all around us. We enjoyed it. We wallowed in it. For six years, on Jupiter, we had not known a temperature above a hundred. It was oodles of fun to have the pants roasted off us for a change. Saturday. In the weeks that followed, our kerosene fire gradually died down, and the creeping cold of space set in. Parkers made calculations every half-minute with the space duodecant. We all realized, without saying, that the slightest error would land us inches and inches from our destination. The cabin temperature dropped steadily, even with two candles and a cigar going full blast. It got colder and colder and colder and colder and colder and colder and colder .... Parsen crouched over his sand-pile, still scribbling. The cats dug up his calculations, but he barked for duodecant readings from Parkers. 'Beg!' Parkers would say, and Parsen would bark, and then Parkers would feed him a duodecant reading. The following is hard to tell. But there was nearly a mutiny[!(?)] After a week of scooting along through space, Parsen suddenly announced that we would 20
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cats) and scratching cryptic figures in it with a stick[.?] This was scarcely encouraging. Nevertheless, we prepared for the long voyage with grim determination and a case of Mickey Finn, 1992. Captain Batwell sagaciously rid the ship of all Jovian bedbugs and cooties. This we did by spraying the inside of the ship with kerosene and setting it alight. A full day we waited, with the flames crackling merrily all around us. We enjoyed it. We wallowed in it. For six years, on Jupiter, we had not known a temperature above a hundred. It was oodles of fun to have the pants roasted off us for a change. Saturday. In the weeks that followed, our kerosene fire gradually died down, and the creeping cold of space set in. Parkers made calculations every half-minute with the space duodecant. We all realized, without saying, that the slightest error would land us inches and inches from our destination. The cabin temperature dropped steadily, even with two candles and a cigar going full blast. It got colder and colder and colder and colder and colder and colder and colder .... Parsen crouched over his sand-pile, still scribbling. The cats dug up his calculations, but he barked for duodecant readings from Parkers. 'Beg!' Parkers would say, and Parsen would bark, and then Parkers would feed him a duodecant reading. The following is hard to tell. But there was nearly a mutiny[!(?)] After a week of scooting along through space, Parsen suddenly announced that we would 20
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