How Sharper Than A Serpent's Tooth

by LarryD

LarryD keeps the thread alive:

Date: Mon, 20 May 1996 18:59:11 -0400

Hey hey.....

s the MBF copy falls from his hand, Larry shakes it vigorously and puts his thumb to his mouth, beginning simultaneously to suck the wound and whisper vigorously a few of the less-flattering of the nine billion names of God. Dang! Right on the joint. Ah, well. After putting a band-aid (Flintstones, natch, the logical fallout from three daughters) on the slice, Larry spies the fallen fanzine, with its now dog-eared pages, and congratulates himself silently for having two copies (so as to keep one mint). Then, with grim determination, he rips a page from the magazine, folds it methodically into an aerodynamic marvel, and heads out to the front yard. Knowing that the distance to Arizona is shorter east to west, he nonetheless lofts the missile eastward. At that moment, behind him he hears the screen door slam (and Globug's dress wave).

"WhattheheckjadoTHATfor?" she asks.

He could say, "Man riding MY bicycle!" Instead, tight-lipped New Englander that he is, Larry says only, "It'll only fly with a tail wind. It'll get there, though."

Flash forward a week or so to the back yard of Arizona's most famous Nezhead. As Mr. Block checks his mailbox (real, not virtual, else he wouldn't in fact BE outdoors at midday, this being Arizona), he notices something glide lazily to a landing on his lawn (or rock garden, as the case may be and water bills there being what they are).

"What the ...?" he mumbles as he walks over to pick it up. He shrugs and walks back into the house with the mail, both air and snail. In the front hallway, Mrs. Block greets him with Arizona's cutest in her arms. In a voice uncannily like June Foray's, she asks:

"Fan mail from some trout?"

"Dunno. Lemme se----Yiiiiiiiiiiii !"

Somewhere (or everywhere, for those of us who are pantheists) James grimaces as Rob drops everything and adds a few more to the list of his less-endearing appellations.

Carry on, Pops.....