words by genghis , pictures by rhoda
 "have you completed your assignment. jughead?" asked miss stanton, or maybe she was catherine de medici or anne bonney or emma goldman. "aw gee, miss de medici, i forgot," jughead, or maybe he was gilgamesh or agammemnon or ishmael, slapped his forehead.  "this is the second time this week, gilgamesh," miss bonney looked at him sternly. "i'm afraid you can't go home without finishing it. complete it in home room and pass it in to me before you leave."  "aw miss goldman," ag moaned. "i have ping pong practice. coach will be mad at me!" "be that as it may," miss stanton insisted, 'i want that completed science fiction novel on my desk before five o'clock."  "aw, can't i at least make it a fantasy novel?"  "no, ishmael, you may not. fantasy novel was last week. as i recall, yours was more than acceptable, with a particularly exciting climax. i see no reason why your science fiction novel should be as just as good." jughead sighed. beside him betty, or maybe she was helen of troy or sappho or clara bow, whispered. "i'll help you, gil." "gee thanks, helen," agammemnon whispered.  "no need to whisper," miss bonney told them. "i don't care how it gets done, as long as it gets done.  "we went through this last week with the fantasy novel, " sappho told ishmael as they strolled down the corridor to home room. "it's simple - you just take a novel that's already written, copy it and then change every word. what could be easier?"  "i guess," jughead agreed reluctantly. "do you have a scence fiction novel i can copy?" "i sure do," clara told him. "i happen to have a copy of "dreadful sanctuary" by eric frank russell here with me. you are welcome to it." "gee thanks betty, you're a pal. the world would be a good place if there were more people like you in it."  "if you get stuck, give me a holler. but you'll be ok. just remember, copy it and change every word." helen opened the door of home room and she entered, with agammemnon right behind her.  sappho took a seat in the middle of the room after waving hello to everyone already seated. ishmael sat down three seats to her left. archie, or maybe he was beowulf or robin hood or john smith, was so intent on his own science fiction novel that he didn't notice when clara sat down beside him.  betty dropped one of her notebooks on the floor and beowulf picked it up and handed it to her without looking up from his own notebook.  "you look really serious," helen whispered to robin hood.  "what are you copying? something you memorized?" john smith didn't have an open book in front of him. "i'm doing this from scratch," archie told her. "ooh, impressive!" sappho gave a low whistle. miss anthony the home room teacher, or maybe she was agrippina or madame ch'ing or ethel rosenberg. rapped on her desk with a ruler. "lower your volume please! some students are actually working."  clara rolled her eyes at beowulf. "i'm using a pretty basic template," he whispered. "you mean - ?" "it is the year x, the universe is divided between the y's and the z's."  betty leaned back in her seat. "now i am not so impressed. but you know," helen went on. "maybe i should have told jughead about that." she twisted around to look at gilgamesh but he was absorbed, head down, in his own notebook. "sappho, if you don't have anything to do here, maybe you could go outside and run a few miles." agrippina announced from the front of the room. clara turned her head down and opened her notebook. she took out a copy of the city and the stars by arthur c clarke and began copying it, changing every word.  endless termination, by jughead the qualitative failure of the ninetieth world supercongress validated in one fell swoop the predictions of earl duje as to the basic incompatability of humans with other life forms, even those they had created themselves. ultimately the openness of the totality beyond the chicken coop which was jealous of the terrible earthquakes had to be evaluated by twenty million bad guys released from the galactic dungeons on the seventh day of the celebration of thomas edison's birthday - so they said.  but the origins of the green fog were hidden by the nuclear contraction and destroyed the tunnels beneath the universe.  "you've done it again, earl, " guinea pig johnson, the ace reporter for the galactic gazette, expounded admiringly in the corridor of the supercongress as he was sending in his story. "i don't know why anyone goes up against you any more." earl was holding court outside the main chamber where he had just demolished his opponents. as they had all slunk away, it was left to earl to talk to the reporters. "earl, earl, over here, earl!" they vied with each other for his attention. "yes, connie.'  connie columbus, the glamorous ace reporter for the intergalactic inquirer, pushed forward. "earl, what do think the chances are for a ninety-first supercongress?" "i wish i could answer that question, connie. i would to think that this nonsense is behind us and that we can get on with serious business, but - what can i say, delusions die hard, and, unfortunately, plans for a ninety-first congress may be in the works even as we speak." more excited clamoring from the reporters. earl pointed to a fat man in the middle of the pack. "yes, rick."  rick jemadar,from the patriot, asked, "does this mean war?" "i sincerely hope so. but again, we will have to wait and see." the questions continued. earl answered them patiently. earl was the master of the universe. he had won the last war, and had spent all his time since then lobbying for and insisting on the need for another one. every human male in the universe wanted to be just like him, although an increasingly small number tried to pretend they didn't. and how did earl do with the chicks? you tell me.  "any more questions?" for a moment it appeared that there were none, but then a voice came from the rear. "i have one question." earl looked over the other reporters to a tall thin man in the last row. "flint - i am surprised you are here. i would have thought you would have gone with ambassador adams to hold his handkerchief." most of the reporters laughed.  flint frabshaw, the ace - and only - reporter for the peacekeeper, looked down at his notepad. "i just have one question." "let's hear it."  |
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whoa...
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