Three for All by Thomas Seay

After many adventures in Pointland, Lineland, and Flatland, Ferdinand Feghoot waved goodbye to an equilateral triangle and began his journey home to three-dimensional space. Alas, along the way, his Dimensional Extrapolator failed, and when he stepped outside he found himself, not in his backyard as expected, but in a world occupied only by numbers.

Feghoot explored his surroundings curiously. Across the street, a 3/4ths played soccer with an attractive young 5/8ths, while a stern-looking 16/25ths watched in silence. Other numbers slid around the area, screeching about fractions that had recently been halved and screaming about friends' plans to exchange common denominators. The cacophony was so deafening that Feghoot had to plug his ears with his index fingers.

In the sudden silence, he noticed the most amazing thing of all: A decimal point rolled down the road, followed first by one three, then another, then another, then another, creating a very long train of .333333333. Indeed, Feghoot realized, the threes continued out to infinity.

Feghoot unplugged his ears, approached the first three, and said, "Greetings! I'm a visitor from another world, and I must say, I find you fascinating. Are repeating decimals such as yourself common here?"

A mouth on the decimal point opened, closed, and opened again. Feghoot thought he heard a distant scratchy cough, but he couldn't make out any words. Then the decimal point tumbled away down the street, followed by its trail of threes.

"My," said Feghoot, "but that was very rude."

The 16/25ths across the street heard him. She shouted, "What more did you expect?"

Feghoot cringed at the noise and plugged his ears again. "I had hoped he would answer my question," he said.

"But he did!" Her five wobbled in anger. "You just couldn't hear him, for he doesn't speak very loudly."

"Why not? All of the rest of you talk with, ah, rather adequate volume."

"Of course we do," she said, "but then everyone knows that fractions speak louder than thirds."

©2002 by Thomas Seay and Fred Flaxman, with permission from the Reginald Bretnor Literary Estate

A Feghoot memoir by John DeChancie

Feghoot, aboard the starliner Bruce Pelz, docked at a deep space station in the Kruton Empire, was astonished by the beauty of the leader of the space pirates who had overwhelmed both station and starship. She was a glory of a woman, tall and athletic, with an exquisite figure crowned by flowing red hair.

"Who is she? What's her name?" asked Feghoot, beaming in admiration even as a patch-eyed cutthroat relieved him of his wallet, which contained most if not all of his travel money. It was not so much her figure as her face that transfixed him. He had never seen such a beautiful bas-relief of a face. It was perfection. He would not have balked at putting her on the short list of one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

The party spoken to, a middle-level Kruton diplomat, grunted as he handed over his own valuables. "Her name is Helen O'Loy. She was born to a poor family in a mining colony on Procyon V and grew up to work in an algae-chip factory on Deneb III. Her job was quality control---a taster. At nights she worked in strip joints near the spaceport, but she quit and went on to become a space pirate and fight against the Kruton Emperor, Wilhelm VII, who personally owns all the decadent fleshpots in his realm. After years of tasting horrible junk food and being exploited, she developed quite a personal animus against our emperor, and has led many rebellions against him."

Feghoot thoughtfully stroked his chin and gave forth this mighty line: "Is this the face that crunched a thousand chips and spurned the topless bars of Willy, hmm?"

©2002 John DeChancie and Fred Flaxman, with permission from the Reginald Bretnor Literary Estate

Another True Tale™ of Feghoot by Richard A. Lupoff

Ferdinand Feghoot was in love. In fact, he had proposed marriage to his sweetheart, Anne E. Phann, and had been accepted. The happy couple planned their nuptials for the Interworld Science Fiction Convention to be held in Gernsback City on the planet Yoicks. As up-to-date as Ferdinand and Anne were in most ways, they were very traditional in their courting conduct. They planned a "white wedding," their marriage to be consummated in the bridal suite of the Tucker Hotel.

The ceremony was lovely, and not a dry eye was there in the hall. Anne's maid of honor, Dale Deering, hugged the bride. There was a sumptuous dinner in the hotel's banquet hall accompanied by many heartfelt toasts, followed by festive dancing. Then the happy couple retired for the night.

The next morning Ferdinand attended two panel discussions, toured the Fan Art Show, and browsed the Huckster Room.

His bride, Anne, spent the morning on the videophone with her maid of honor, Dale, who was also her best friend. In response to Dale's giggling questions, Anne burst into tears. Her bridegroom, it turned out, had suffered from male sexual dysfunction on their wedding night. He had confessed, Anne told Dale, that he was so preoccupied with convention events that he was unable to concentrate upon his husbandly duties.

Weeping copiously and yet with more than a touch of angry frustration in her voice, Anne exclaimed to Dale that, as far as she was concerned, "Fandom is just a log-jammed hubby."

In the meanwhile, Ferdinand spent several hours hanging out in the bar with assorted pro's and Big Name Fans. He then attended another panel discussion, the annual meeting of a specialized fan club called the Niven Ninnies, and a filk-sing. He didn't even see his bride for the rest of the day, and he nibbled free snacks in the Hospitality Suite in lieu of eating dinner.

Afterwards, he retired to the Honeymoon Suite where he found Anne expectantly awaiting him. "I hope you're feeling more, ah, capable tonight," Anne hissed in annoyance.

The couple disrobed, climbed into a huge spaceship-shaped bed, and disported themselves merrily. And energetically. And repeatedly.

The next morning, Anne chatted again with her friend Dale. It took only a single glance at Anne's videophone image for Dale to realize that things had gone a lot better on the couple's second wedded night than they had on the first. And, indeed, Anne explained to her friend that Ferdinand's lengthy day of pursuing convention events had cleared his mind and freed up his performance something wonderful.

Or, as she put it, "Science fiction is a lay of wife!"

©2002 Richard A. Lupoff and Fred Flaxman, with permission from the Reginald Bretnor Literary Estate

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