(Indrotusink, vrom Mittledon Ohio, mit hiss virst condribution, vhich I veel
rades mit Jug Bearsson'ss "An Etgated Mon.")

	                         by G. P. Combs

	                           IN MY CAGE

I am perched happily, for I am in my cage.  My cage is a very special one, for
it's the only thing I have.  When I finally do run down the postman or the
friendly policeman I can always take them to my cage and eat them.  I do love
my cage.

One time, someone took my cage away.  That made me depressed, then angry.  The
nerve I thought!  If he thinks he can take my cage without a fight, he is
greatly mistaken.  He was.  When I finally caught up with him I just threw him
over one shoulder, the cage over the other and started home.  "When I get
home," I thought happily, "I'll have realfood.  Food that I can enjoy."  But
what if he makes me sick,  (The wretch!  The last thing I had tasted like old
leather, the lousy postman.)  But I was soon to find out that there was nothing
wrong with him.  When I got home, I took my cage to its very own place and sat
it down.  Then I went inside with the would-be robber over my shoulder.

I went over and got on the little perch.  As I sat there, I said my thanks to
my creator, Uncle Clyde.  Since the death of his beloved Otto he had been
tinkering with dark magic, which is not quite as dangerous as black magic, but
still is nothing to fool around with.

He had been trying to bring up a toad, but he used a pinch more pazaz than
directed on the box... and got me.

When I was through I got out the salt and pepper.  "Only people of little or no
class don't use spices," I thought dignified.  I pawed over my dinner carefully
to be sure he hadn't coated himself with anything.  Only when I was sure he
hadn't did I reach one paw over to him and shook his hand.  "No sense in not
being friends," I croaked.  "It won't hurt a bit.  That first bite is the pain
killer.  Matter of fact, it not only kills the pain, it kills you too."

The thief was too busy thinking of how disappointed dear old mother would be
when she found out that her son was eaten by a thing to laugh.

I carefully reached a paw forward and when he was most unsuspecting, jerked his
legs out from under him.  As he hung in the right position, I ran my fork
through him.  I was taught that it was uncivilized to eat without a fork.

Somehow the silly idiot got his head stuck between the bars.  It was really in
there tight.  "Goody," I said, "now I won't have to hold you for the first
bite.  Smile!"

My, but he was a screamer.  He kicked and bit me and was a fraidy cat on top of
everything.

I got his big head in my mouth only after a hard struggle; found out that I'd
only cut part way through.  It took a real hard bite to sever it.

He had a hairy head.

To my surprise it kept yelling inside of me.  Whenever I jar or crawl now, he
lets out a horrible yell.  People keep staring at me.

I've got a surprise for that stupid head today.  I went out and bought a big
gun.  I'm really going to fix it.

Boy, is that barrel cold on my stomach.  Still, it'll shut that crazy head up.

One... Two...

	                            THE END
	

	                      ####################

These four pages were done without lining up the right hand margin just to show
you what a difference even margins make in a zine.

	                      ####################
	

	                           FREE PLUG

Atlantis #2 should be ready soon.  If you'd like a copy, send 20 cents to:

	                           Tim Morris
	                         1360 Nancywood
	                         Pontiac, Mich.

	                               or

	                           Timm Wall
	                        4555 Major Drive
	                     Drayton Plains, Mich.

	                              [pp. 16 - 18, THE UNKNOWN #2, Summer 1965]

Updated June 26, 2001. If you have a comment about these web pages please send a note to the Fanac Webmaster. Thank you.