A prominent local fan, whose name I do not wish to take in vain for I am not a troublemaker, once had a fight with his wife. This is scarcely news, but this Man of the Future loudly declared his intention to kill himself. "I am going to kill myself," he said like a corny movie actor, and went slowly to the bathroom so that the imaginary cameras might pan with him.

He locked the door noisily, for he is Aware of Sound, and soon there was the noise of water running in the bathtub. His wife, used to his Grade B melodrama antics, paid little attention. After a time, the water stopped, and she heard him muttering to himself. After a quarter of an hour she began to reflect on the situation. It was not likely he would kill himself, she thought. Not unless he could manage it so that he could stand off and watch her discover his poor lifeless body and eagerly drink in her reactions as she stared at the still form of THE Man who Loved Her So Madly That He Sought Peace in the Grave. Still, she thought, he was so apt to foul up the job as he did everything else that he might just possibly kill himself by accident. Besides, her feminine curiosity began to prod her. She went to the door. Strangely enough, the bolt was shot but somehow had not managed to enter the slot, so that it was not actually locked. She pushed the door open and went in.

There, seated in the bathtub, was the Man of Tomorrow. He was sawing and hacking at his throat with a safety razor. The skin was abraded and lacerated by the serrated guard teeth of the razor, but no further damage had been done because the would-be suicide had thoughtfully removed the blade before he began to cut his throat.

Text versions and page scans Judy Bemis

Data entry by Judy Bemis

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