BOB TUCKER
FROM LE ZOMBIE CHICON YEARBOOK
Dear Mom;
Gosh, this is swell. I never dreamed a fan convention could be such great fun. Here I am away out in space for the first time. As you know, Mom, this is the first time the fans have ever had a convention in deep space; our club has chartered the ship for a week's cruise around Pluto & back. There are about three hundred of us aboard, plus the crew. Gee, a convention is sure fun, Mom.
Mom, do you remember that Rothman fella who came out to see me at the farm last fall? Remember, he sold me a membership in the club, and a ticket for this cruise? Well, he's in charge here; everybody calls him Prez Milty --- everybody that is but the Captain. I'm not going to repeat what the Captain calls him, Mom. Anyway, this Prez Milty is one swell guy. He took a shine to me as soon as I come aboard. He made a pretty speech saying how glad he was to see me, and he asked me what I had in my suitcase. Also, he asked me what syence I liked best, and right away I said rocketry. And guess what he did, Mom? He took me aside and told me in a low voice he could fix me up with a dandy little room all to myself right under the rocket tubes!
Course, it wasn't easy. He said he'd have to have a few bucks to bribe the purser, but that the man would come across without too much fuss. I gave Prez Milty five dollars and he said that ought to do it. He came back pretty soon with a key, and gee, Mom, I have the nicest room ever. It's right under a rocket tube and I can put my hand up and feel the heat. The sign on my door says "Baffle Room", whatever that is. Prez Milty really takes care of a friend.
We cleared port at noon; the Captain was mad about something, I'm not sure what. Me and some of the fellows stood around an open hatch and dropped sandbags on little ants crawling around below. (This certainly is a swell bunch aboard) One of them --- I think his name is Widner --- took me aside later and said those really weren't ants, but bipeds --- whatever that is ---- and it wasn't really sand in those bags, but powdered oxygen. Maybe thats why the Captain was in such a fit.
We made a short stopover on the moon, and gee, it was a funny place Mom. There ain't no air there at all. The captain said we couldn't stay out long without suits, and after about an hour, the talking dies down, and some of the fans got blue in the face, so they made us come back in. One of the fans, a swell fella named Kennedy, came back to the ship lugging a smelly old dinosaur skeleton, but the Captain wouldn't allow him to bring it aboard. Gee, Kennedy got mad. He threatened to kick a hole in the hull, and let space leak in, but Prez Milty talked him out of it, pointing out that the club would be held responsible for the hole.
We have a bar on the ship. Now don't be alarmed, Mom, you know I wouldn't drink anything, even if there was hard likker at this bar. Prez Milty says the bar don't sell nothing but soft drinks. He assured me most fans don't drink likker; except for a rowdy from Los Angeles named Ackerman. He says he had confiscated a quart of bourbon from this Ackerman person and locked it away in his cabinet for medicinal purposes. He said that Ackerman was the only person who drank at conventions and he set a bad example for the rest. Prez Milty told me that if I wanted a really good soothing drink, to ask the bartender for a Mickey Finn and tell him Milty sent me.
Talk about excitement, Mom, this trip is really something! The Captain had to stop twice to pick up some fans who fell overboard. Guy by the name of Woolmouth, or Willmorth, or something like that had opened a porthole in the ceiling to take some pictures of the stars and a gust of wind blew him right out of the window! It was a good thing someone saw it happen, and rescued him right away, cause he was wearing a thin suit, and might easily of caught cold out there.
We got a scientist on board, too, who is carrying on some kind of secret experiments. He's an old fella named Evans and he's always puffing on a big cigar. I watched him two or three times when he didn't know I was around. He stands up in the nose of the ship and puffs a big cloud of smoke out into space, and then he runs like sixty back to the rear window to watch it float by, with a pleased look on his face.
And say, Mom, some of the fans got out their costumes and put them on last night, although the masquerade party is a week away. One really swell guy named Speer has a complete Buck Rogers outfit. Last night he sneaked outside the ship, went topside and walked along the hull until he came to the pilot's observation window and shot his raygun at the navagator and the pilot. The navagator fainted, but the pilot got pretty mad.
I've got to close now, Mom, A couple of fans just knocked on my door, and asked me if I knew how to play jungle dominoes. When I said no They said they'd be glad to teach me, so I'm going to learn the game. Its something they play with little white cubes that have black dots on them. These two fans, some very friendly fellas named Moskowitz and Madle, guaranteed me I'd get educated pretty fast.
This is really a swell convention, Mom.
Yours,
Joe
(Data entered by Judy Bemis)