the adventures of pandora paddington - 1. a walk in the rain

by laurene de lampeduse

illustrated by roy dismas and rhoda penmarq

there once lived, in a remote area of the kingdom of ireland, a gentleman named john paddington, who, having inherited the most modest estate imaginable to support a gentleman in a condition just above that of total poverty, and being wholly devoid of energy or ambition, resolved to live out his days sitting in his front parlor and gazing out at the weather, which in that particular place was generally very dreary indeed. besides looking out the window, his chief amusements were reading old plays, particularly those of massinger, and of beaumont and fletcher, and taking an occasional sip of very weak claret (weak to begin with, and made even weaker by the depredations - and infusions of water to cover up the depredations - made by his rascally manservant ). all this was well enough - who are you or i, dear reader, to condemn or even comment on the worthy gentleman's mode of existence? except for a pair of curious events which transpired as mr paddington was approaching his forty-fourth year. perhaps i should say trio of curious events, for the first noteworthy event only occurred because of a circumstance which may seem unremarkable in itself, but was quite exceptional in the particular situation - namely, that mr paddington suddenly decided to go for a walk. exactly why mr paddington decided to go for a walk - though no doubt "not beyond all conjecture" - might not easily be determined, mr paddington himself being of a decidedly unreflective nature and not given to analyzing his actions or disclosing his thoughts, even had he someone to disclose them to. in any case, it was an exceptionally overcast day and a sudden wind had come up, bending the bare trees outside the window, an indication of a possibly violent storm. he rang for his manservant, and that personage appeared forthwith.

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hiram and hermione - 2. secrets and dreams of an american town

by florine di fabrizzi

illustrated by roy dismas and rhoda penmarq



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“A Town Called Disdain”, Episode 134: whacked

Let us rejoin our heroes, anti-heroes, and assorted featured players on a day in September, 1969, at the hospitable Johnstone Ranch (“Reasonable Rates For Folks Who Hanker For a Taste of the Real Old West”), not very far from a town called Disdain...

(Go here for our previous chapter, or here for the first chapter of this Pepto Bismol Award©-winning yarn from the legendary Larry Winchester. “...like Cormac McCarthy but without the big words.” -- Harold Bloom.)

That morning a great dust storm blew up through the area but then it passed and the day opened up bright and clear and warm and everything seemed like you could reach out and touch it.

Everyone had a good long sleep and after people finally started waking up that bright afternoon they all sat around the parlor drinking tea and eating little burritos made with the leftover barbecue meat.

Jake was nice enough to give Brad one of his old western suits to replace his bloodstained one, and Dick gave Mr. MacNamara a nice grey serge number from Hawkes of Savile Row that was a tad too small but still better than the bullet-ridden and gory jacket and trousers he had been wearing.

Buddy wound up in some old ranching clothes of Ed Harris the foreman’s.

Harvey drove Cleb and Attie home in the green Corvair, and he stayed for dinner out at the Parsons spread.

Buddy spent part of the afternoon working on Paco’s station wagon and sure enough he got it running again. Paco bade a fond farewell to one and all and drove back to the reservation.

Jake sent Tip Bullock out to Enid’s truck with four spare tires. The Doc and Enid drove out with him, and after they had changed the tires Enid and the Doc drove back on in to Disdain together.

Mr. MacNamara and Brad and Buddy spent some little time palavering together out on the porch and when they came in Mr. MacNamara took Big Jake aside and they had a little talk. Then Mr. MacNamara sat down next to Dick and Daphne and they talked quietly for a while. And then Mr. MacNamara and Brad and Buddy said so long to everyone and drove off in a nondescript old Packard that Jake had lying around. Jake said later that he had offered them the car free gratis and for nothing, but that old Mac had insisted on paying cash for it, in the form of five crisp new hundred-dollar bills.

Dick and Daphne had a talk with Jake over cocktails, and Jake said he thought it’d be a damn swell idea for Hope to take a trip to Europe with them. That Albuquerque head-shrinker had advised that she hold off college at least till next January. Well, Jake was no head-shrinker but maybe a trip like this was just what she needed. Get her out in the world a mite, do her a world of good; then if she wanted she could start college in January or even the following fall. Truth to tell he was thinking it’d be nice to be able to bring a señorita or two home now and then and not have to worry about corrupting Hope. Not to mention let someone else take care of her whenever she had one of her little nervous breakdowns.

****

That night Dick and Harvey had a little chat on the front porch, sitting side by side on a couple of wicker rocking chairs with a stand-up ashtray between them. Dick asked Harvey if he would like to come along with him and Daphne and Hope. Their plan was to drive the Thunderbird back to Frisco and drop it off for Dick’s friend Huey, then take a plane to Philadelphia, have a brief visit with Daphne’s grandmother in Cape May, and then on to New York and finally to Europe. Harvey said thanks but he reckoned he’d hang around here for a little while, maybe work on the ranch if Mr. Johnstone would give him a job.

“Don’t want to leave Attie, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Not just yet anyway.”

“She seems like a really nice girl.”

“That she is.”

“Why don’t you -- you know --”

“Take her with me?”

“Yeah. I mean, not necessarily with us.”

“She won’t leave. She wants to stay with her old man and her brother.”

“Oh.”

“They all got radiation poisoning. Each other’s all they got. I’ll hang around a month or so, then I guess I’ll be movin’ on.”

“Oh. Well -- we’ll write then, Harvey, keep in touch --”

“Sure,” said Harvey.

Dick sort of wanted to reach over and put his hand on Harvey’s shoulder, but, well, no, better not. Instead he took out his last joint. He’d been thinking of saving it for the road, but, what the hell, no time like the present. He handed it over to Harvey and lit him up with the trusty old Ronson. Harvey toked deeply several times and then passed the joint to Dick.

“You wanta hear my theory, Mr. Smith, I mean Ridpath?”

He still hadn’t let out the smoke. These kids today were pros.

“Dick,” said Dick, between two tokes.

“Dick?”

“What’s your theory?”

Harvey let out the smoke, a great redolent cloud in the crisp cool desert air.

“I think we invented them outer space guys.”

“We did?”

“Yeah. The human race did. I think we invented ‘em. I mean, not on purpose. But, like, our dreams invented ‘em. We had to invent ‘em, ‘cause we ain’t never satisfied with what we got. I mean, the life we got ain’t enough, the universe we got ain’t enough, and, like, we know we’re all alone but we can’t stand to be alone. So we invented this whole other universe out of our dreams. And the people in this other universe don’t even know we invented ‘em. They don’t even know they’re a dream.”

Dick toked deeply, held it in, and exhaled slowly.

“You mean -- they don’t really exist?”

Harvey took the joint.

“Nah, of course they exist. It’s just, we created ‘em. Don’t know how, but we did.”

He toked.

“Wow,” said Dick. “That’s pretty --”

What was the word --

“Heavy,” said Harvey, still holding it in.

Actually Dick was thinking more along the lines of preposterous.

Harvey passed him back the joint, exhaling another great cumulus cloud of smoke.

“Harvey?”

“Yeah?”

Dick took a couple of little tokes.

“Don’t -- try to make too much sense of life. Don’t -- fall into that trap.”

He gave the joint back to Harvey.

Harvey stared at the joint.

“I am whacked,” he said.

****

(Continued here. Recently shortlisted for the Kilgore Trout Memorial Award for Vaguely Scientific Fiction.)

2 poems

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

illustrated by rhoda penmarq

chair i wish i had a comfortable chair i'd get in it and just sit there my brain would be clear and my back wouldn't be sore and i'd never feel bad any more

life life is nice you wake up in the morning and it's still there and you are still in it the sky is outside the window and the sun or maybe the rain and nothing to do or maybe something to do either way or no way life is nice sometimes

caw + sometimes sapphire

caw (scan)
they can't all be 
gems  but emerald s
can  and  the call
of one raven, ticking off
the day's heat
                like a cricket


2012.


                 or sometimes sapphire


            thank you for helping
            to make/ this building
            a safe and easy place
            to maintain. The
            militarized  robots
       in the sub-basement  will
           guide you away
       from certain spaces,. Should
       you open a door or ,
       descend   a staircase and
       catch the bright emerald
       glimmer of their twin
       slim rectangles , turn
       away , quickly.


2012.

tales of the hotel st crispian, chapter 62: "excitement is where you find it"

by manfred skyline

illustrated by rhoda penmarq and roy dismas



for complete episode, click here

“A Town Called Disdain”, Episode 133: sunrise

And the long night has finally come to an end here at the Johnstone Ranch, that oasis of civility not very far from a town called Disdain...

(Go here to read our previous chapter, or click here for the first chapter of this Pep Boys Award-shortlisted masrerpiece from the battered and bruised Olivetti manual typewriter of the legendary Larry Winchester: “...the Homer of our wretched age.” -- Harold Bloom, on The Mike Douglas Show.)

It was past seven by the time Dick and Daphne finally made it back to their room.

Dick stood in the bleary light and emptied out his pockets.

The Browning.

His cigarette case and lighter.

The transistor radio with the bullet hole through it (he had forgotten that he still had it).

The two small revolvers -- his own trusty Airweight, and the Colt .38 he had taken off of Brad, which he was pretty sure belonged to Mac; he’d return it tomorrow.

They took off their blood-stiffened clothes, threw them across the floor and got naked into the cool unmade bed. It would have been nice to take a bath or a shower but they were just too fagged out. They sat up against the pillows and they each had one more cigarette.

“God, what a night,” said Daphne. “I feel --”

She paused.

Dick turned and looked at her. Daphne often gave one pause but she herself so rarely paused.

“Yes?” said Dick.

“I feel as if I know what it is to be insane.”

Now Dick paused.

“Yeah,” he said.

And it was true, so fucking true, it was all insane.

They smoked.

And Dick thought, well, tomorrow’s another day, as Scarlett O’Hara once said. Even if it is already tomorrow. But just to sleep now. A good long sleep. And then what. What new chaos awaited them?

“Dick, you don’t think those space people will bother us any more, do you?”

“I hope not. After last night I should think they’d prefer never to see us again.”

“Good. That Frank person was a dodgy character. Do you think Papa will stay on earth now?”

“He probably has to.”

“Mama will have a cow.”

“I dare say. Oh, by the way, when you were making those delicious pancakes your father told me he’s giving us some money. A belated wedding present.”

“Oh really? How much?”

“Fifty thousand.”

“From that famous briefcase of his?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it real?”

“Well, he said it’s indistinguishable from the real thing, but then he also said we should be careful how we spend it. You know, ration it out, or --

“Right, that’ll be the day. Say, Dick?”

“Yes?”

“Do you mind that I’m half space-person?”

“No.”

“You hesitated.”

“Only a half-second.”

“You really don’t mind.”

“Why should I?”

They sat there against the pillows, their cigarette smoke trailing upward in the soft light, and Dick discreetly admired Daphne’s breasts for the ten thousandth time.

“Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“What about Hope?”

“Oh. Right.”

“I know it’s not your fault but if what Frank said was true she’s having your baby.”

“Yeah. I -- I really haven’t quite had time to think about that.”

“What should we do?”

Dick was thinking about this when their door opened and Hope peeked in.

“Speak of the devil,” said Daphne, and she chastely pulled the sheet up over her breasts.

Hope came in and softly closed the door behind her. She was wearing the same nightdress that Dick had seen her in yesterday, the same one Daphne had seen her in the night before yesterday.

“May I come in?”

Daphne told her she was already in, then tapped the bed next to her and told Hope to come over.

Daphne scrunched over closer to Dick, and Hope came over and sat crosslegged on the bed, her nightdress tucked under her knees. She smelled like maple syrup and butter. Daphne gave her a cigarette and then filled her in on the whole business of her and Dick having sex in a flying saucer and how she was now presumably pregnant with Dick’s child.

“Well,” said Hope, finally, “I’m too young to bring up a kid. I want to live life, and travel. I think I’ll just give it up for adoption. I’ll tell Papa it was some guy from the air force base. He’ll have such a fit.”

“I’ve got an idea,” said Daphne, after only a moment. “Come with us for a trip.”

“A trip? Where?”

“It doesn’t matter. Europe.”

“Europe would be nice.”

“Come with us on a trip to Europe and you can have the child there and your father will never know. And then Dick and I will adopt it.”

“Really?”

“Well, I don’t see why not. I mean it’s half Dick’s anyway.”

“That would be great. And then I could visit it sometimes.”

“Sure. Do you think your father will let you go?”

“I’ll handle him.”

“Well, it’s settled then. Is this okay with you, Dick?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” said Dick, as if the matter hadn’t already been settled.

(Continued here. Soon to be a major motion picture produced and directed by Larry Winchester and starring Dane Clark and Martha Vickers, coming to a drive-in near you on a double bill with Larry’s Count Dracula’s Niece, starring Barbara Steele and Vincent Price.)