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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31716-h.zip b/31716-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e99afc6 --- /dev/null +++ b/31716-h.zip diff --git a/31716-h/31716-h.htm b/31716-h/31716-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..70d0071 --- /dev/null +++ b/31716-h/31716-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1556 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title>Jimsy and the Monsters, by Walt Sheldon, a Project Gutenberg eBook</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; text-indent: 0; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + + .center, .center p {text-align: center;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .larger {font-size: large;} + .sidebarright {border: 1px solid black; font-size: smaller; text-indent: 0; margin: 9px; padding: 9px; float: right; clear: right; width: auto;} + .sidebarright p {margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em;} + .trnote {background-color: #EEE; color: inherit; margin: 2em 5% 1em 5%; font-size: 80%; padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em; border: dotted 1px gray;} + blockquote {display: block; margin: .75em 5%;} + h1 {text-align: center;} + p.dropcap:first-letter {padding-top: .07em; float: left; margin-right: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em; clear: both;} + + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; width: auto;} + .figtag {height: 1px;} + hr.invis {margin: 1em auto; visibility: hidden;} +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jimsy and the Monsters, by Walt Sheldon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jimsy and the Monsters + +Author: Walt Sheldon + +Release Date: March 21, 2010 [EBook #31716] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JIMSY AND THE MONSTERS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='figcenter'> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' title='' width='423' height='600' /><br /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<blockquote> +<p><i>Science fiction, in collaboration with the idea-men and technicians of Hollywood, +has been responsible for many horrors, dating back to “The Cabinet +of Dr. Caligari” and “The Lost World.” But Hollywood has created one +real-life horror that tops all creations of fantasy—the child star. +In this story we at last see such a brat meet Things from Alien Space.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<h1>jimsy<br /> +and<br /> +the<br /> +monsters</h1> +<p class='center larger'><b><i>by ... Walt Sheldon</i></b></p> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>Mr. Maximilian Untz</span> regarded +the monsters with a critical +eye. Script girls, cameramen, +sometimes even stars quailed +under Mr. Untz’s critical eye—but +not these monsters. The first +had a globelike head and several +spidery legs. The second was +willowy and long-clawed. The +third was covered with hair. The +prop department had outdone +itself.</p> +<p class='sidebarright'>Hollywood could handle just about<br /> +anything—until Mildume’s machine<br /> +brought in two real aliens.</p> +<p>“Get Jimsy,” said Mr. Untz, +snapping his fingers.</p> +<p>A young earnest assistant producer +with a crew cut turned and +relayed the summons. “Jimsy—Jimsy +LaRoche!” Down the line +of cables and cameras it went. +<i>Jimsy</i> ... <i>Jimsy</i>....</p> +<p>A few moments later, from +behind the wall flat where he had +been playing canasta with the +electricians, emerged Jimsy LaRoche, +the eleven-year-old sensation. +He took his time. He wore +powder-blue slacks and a sports +shirt and his golden hair was carefully +ringleted. He was frowning. +He had been interrupted with a +meld of a hundred and twenty.</p> +<p>“Okay, so what is it now?” he +said, coming up to Mr. Untz.</p> +<p>Mr. Untz turned and glared +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +down at the youth. Jimsy returned +the glare. There was a sort +of cold war between Mr. Untz +and Master Jimsy LaRoche, the +sort you could almost hear hotting +up. Mr. Untz pointed to the +monsters. “Look, Jimsy. Look +at them. What do you think?” He +watched the boy’s expression carefully.</p> +<p>Jimsy said, “To use one of your +own expressions, Max—<i>pfui</i>. +They wouldn’t scare a mouse.” +And then Jimsy shrugged and +walked away.</p> +<p>Mr. Untz turned to his assistant. +“Harold,” he said in an injured +tone. “You saw it. You heard it. +You see what I’ve got to put up +with.”</p> +<p>“Sure,” said Harold Potter +sympathetically. He had mixed +feelings toward Mr. Untz. He +admired the producer’s occasional +flashes of genius, he deplored his +more frequent flashes of stupidity. +On the whole, however, he regarded +himself as being on Mr. +Untz’s side in the war between +Mr. Untz and the world and +Hollywood. He knew Mr. Untz’s +main trouble.</p> +<p>Some years ago Maximilian +Untz had been brought to Hollywood +heralded as Vienna’s greatest +producer of musicals. So far +he had been assigned to westerns, +detectives, documentaries, a fantasy +of the future—but no +musicals. And now it was a psychological +thriller. Jimsy played +the killer as a boy and there was +to be a dream sequence, a nightmare +full of monsters. Mr. Untz +was determined it should be the +most terrifying dream sequence +ever filmed.</p> +<p>Only up to now he wasn’t +doing so good.</p> +<p>“I would give,” said Mr. Untz +to Harold Potter, “my right eye +for some <i>really</i> horrible monsters.” +He gestured at the world in +general. “Think of it, Harold. +We got atom bombs and B-29’s, +both vitamins and airplanes, and +stuff to cure you of everything +from broken legs to dropsy. A +whole world of modern science—but +nobody can make a fake +monster. It looks anything but +fake and wouldn’t scare an eleven-year-old +boy.”</p> +<p>“It’s a thought,” agreed Harold +Potter. He had a feeling for things +scientific; he had taken a B.S. in +college but had drifted into +photography and thence into +movie production. He had a wife +and a spaniel and a collection of +pipes and a house in Santa +Monica with a workshop basement.</p> +<p>“I got to do some thinking,” +Mr. Untz said. “I believe I will +change my clothes and take a +shower. Come along to the cottage, +Harold.”</p> +<p>“Okay,” said Harold. He never +liked to say yes for fear of being +tagged a yes-man. Anyway, he +enjoyed relaxing in the office-cottage +while Mr. Untz showered +and changed, which Mr. Untz did +some three or four times a day. +When he got there Mr. Untz +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +disappeared into the dressing-room +and Harold picked up a +magazine.</p> +<p>There was a knock on the door.</p> +<p>Harold got up and crossed the +soft cream-colored carpet and +opened the door and saw a goat-like +person.</p> +<p>“Yes?” said Harold.</p> +<p>“Mildume,” said the goat-like +person. “Dr. John Mildume. Don’t +ask a lot of questions about how +I got in. Had a hard enough time +as it was. Fortunately I have +several relatives connected with +the studio. That’s how I heard of +your problem as a matter of fact.”</p> +<p>“My problem?” said Harold.</p> +<p>Dr. Mildume pushed right in. +He was no more than five feet +five but had a normal sized head. +It was domelike. Wisps of tarnished +white hair curled about his +ears and crown. He had an out-thrust +underjaw with a small white +beard on its prow. He was dressed +in moderately shabby tweeds. He +moved across the room in an +energetic hopping walk and took +the place on the sofa Harold had +vacated.</p> +<p>“Now, then, Mr. Untz,” he +said, “the first thing we must do +is come to terms.”</p> +<p>“Just a minute,” said Harold. +“I’m Mr. Untz’s assistant, Harold +Potter. Mr. Untz is in the shower. +Was he expecting you?”</p> +<p>Dr. Mildume blinked. “No, +not exactly. But he can’t afford +<i>not</i> to see me. I know all about +it.”</p> +<p>“All about what?” asked Harold.</p> +<p>“The beasts,” the doctor said.</p> +<p>“The <i>which</i>?”</p> +<p>“Beasts, Potter,” snapped the +goat-like man. “The nightmare +monsters. Get with it, lad. And +what is a dream sequence without +them? Ha!”</p> +<p>“Uh—yes,” said Harold a little +uncertainly.</p> +<p>Mildume’s finger shot out. +“You fellows understand that I’m +no dreamy-eyed impractical scientist. +Let’s face it—it takes money +to carry on experiments like mine. +Good old-fashioned money. I’ll +need at least ten thousand dollars.”</p> +<p>Harold raised his eyebrows. +“Just what, Dr. Mildume, do you +propose to give us for ten +thousand dollars?”</p> +<p>“Beasts,” said Mildume. “<i>Real</i> +monsters.”</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon?” said +Harold. He began to work out +strategies in his mind. Maybe he +could casually walk over to the +phone and pick it up quickly and +call the studio police. Maybe he +could get the jump on this madman +before he pulled a knife. The +thing to do was to humor him +meanwhile....</p> +<p>Dr. Mildume said, “I will not +deal with underlings. I demand +to see Mr. Untz himself.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Harold, “you +understand that Mr. Untz is a +busy man. It’s my job to check +propositions people have for him. +Suppose you tell me about these +beasts of yours.”</p> +<p>Mildume shrugged. “Doubt +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +if you’ll understand it any better +than Untz will. But it’s no more +complicated than television when +you boil it right down. You’re +familiar, I take it, with the basic +principle of television?”</p> +<p>“Oh, sure,” said Harold, +brightening. “Keep things moving. +Have a master of ceremonies who +keeps jumping in and out of the +act. Give something away to the +audience, if possible, to make +them feel ashamed not to tune +in.”</p> +<p>“No, no, no, no, <i>no</i>!” said +Mildume. “I mean the technical +principles. A photo-electric beam +scans the subject, translates light +and dark into electrical impulses, +which eventually alter a cathode +ray played upon a fluorescent +screen. Hence, the image. You +grasp that roughly, I take it?”</p> +<p>“Roughly,” said Harold.</p> +<p>“Well,” continued Mildume, +“just as spots of light and dark +are the building blocks of an +image, so sub-atomic particles are +the building blocks of matter. +Once we recognize this the teleportation +theory becomes relatively +simple. There are engineering +difficulties, of course.</p> +<p>“We must go back to Faraday’s +three laws of electrolysis—and +Chadwick’s establishment in nineteen +thirty-one of the fact that +radiation is merely the movement +of particles of proton mass without +proton charge. Neutrons, you +see. Also that atomic weights are +close integers, when hydrogen is +one point zero zero eight. Thus +I use hydrogen as a basis. Simple, +isn’t it?”</p> +<p>Harold frowned. “Wait a +minute. What’s this you’re talking +about—<i>teleportation</i>? You mean +a way of moving matter through +space, just as television moves an +image through space?”</p> +<p>“Well, not precisely,” said +Mildume. “It’s more a duplication +of matter. My Mildume beam—really +another expression of the +quanta or light energy absorbed +by atoms—scans and analyzes +matter. The wave variations are +retranslated into form, or formulae, +at a distant point—the +receiving point.”</p> +<p>Harold lowered one eyebrow. +“And this really works?”</p> +<p>“Of course,” said Mildume. +“Oh, it’s still crude. It doesn’t +work all the time. It works only +along vast distances. I won’t announce +it until I perfect it further. +Meanwhile I need more money to +carry on and when, through +certain relatives, I heard of Mr. +Untz’s problem—well, it was +simply too much to resist. You +see, I’ve managed to teleport a +couple of frightful monsters from +somewhere out of space. I was +wondering what on earth to do +with them.”</p> +<p>“Where—where are they?” +asked Harold.</p> +<p>“In my back yard,” said Dr. +Mildume.</p> +<p>At that point Mr. Maximilian +Untz abruptly reappeared. He +smelled of lotion and he was now +dressed in a relatively conservative +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +gabardine of forest green +with a lavender shirt and a black +knitted tie.</p> +<p>“Hello,” he said. He looked at +Mildume. “So who is this?”</p> +<p>“He says he has monsters for +the dream sequence in his back +yard,” explained Harold. “<i>Real</i> +ones.”</p> +<p>“Look,” said Mr. Untz, “kindly +ask the gentleman to get lost, +will you, Harold?”</p> +<p>“No, wait,” Harold said. “He +may have something. He explained +some of it to me. It +sounds almost possible. We can’t +lose much by taking a look.”</p> +<p>“Only a few thousand dollars a +minute,” said Mr. Untz.</p> +<p>“<i>Bah—money!</i>” said Dr. Mildume. +“Which reminds me—these +monsters of mine are going +to cost you. Let’s have that +understood, right now.”</p> +<hr class='invis' /> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>Mr. Untz’s</span> eyebrows went up. +This kind of talk he understood. +He reached into the side pocket +of the gabardine for his cigarette +case. He kept a separate gold +case in each suit.</p> +<p>“<i>Yeeeeow!</i>” said Mr. Untz.</p> +<p>His hand came out of the +pocket with a small green snake +in it.</p> +<p>“Drop it! Stand back!” said +Harold, being cool.</p> +<p>“Don’t worry about it,” said +Dr. Mildume in a calmer voice. +He was blinking mildly at the +snake. “It’s merely an ordinary +species of garden snake, sometimes +erroneously called garter +snake. Curious it should be +there.”</p> +<p>Harold looked at Dr. Mildume +sharply. “This teleportation of +yours wouldn’t have anything to +do with it by any chance?”</p> +<p>“Of course not,” snapped Mildume.</p> +<p>“<i>I</i> know how it got here!” said +Mr. Untz, his jowls trembling. He +had already dropped the snake. +“A certain child star whose initials +are Jimsy LaRoche! Last week he +gives me a hotfoot. Monday a +wet seat—soaked newspapers in +my chair under one thin dry one. +Yesterday a big frog in my +shower. I should take that brat +over my knee and spank him to +his face!”</p> +<p>“Mm—ah—of course,” said +Dr. Mildume without much interest +in the topic. “Shall we go +to inspect the monsters now?”</p> +<p>Mr. Untz thought it over, only +long enough to keep himself +within the time limits of a Man of +Decision. Then he said, “Okay, +so we’ll go now.”</p> +<p>They passed Jimsy LaRoche on +the way out. He was drinking +pineapple juice and sitting with +his tutor, studying his lines. He +smirked as Mr. Untz passed. Mr. +Untz scowled back but didn’t say +anything. In Jovian silence he +led the way to his car.</p> +<p>It turned out to be a longer +ride than they had expected. Dr. +Mildume lived in Twenty-nine +Palms and, as Mr. Untz explained +it, this was too short for an airplane +and too long for an automobile. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +Mr. Untz was not in his +best humor when they stopped +before Dr. Mildume’s stucco and +tile-roof house.</p> +<p>Mildume directed them immediately +to a walled-in patio in +the rear of the place. A shed-roof +covered one side of the patio +and under it were racks of equipment. +Harold recognized banks +of relays, power amplifiers, oscillographs +and some other familiar +devices. There were also some +strange ones.</p> +<p>Mildume waved his long fingers +at all of it. “My teleportation +set-up is entirely too bulky so far +for practical use, as you can see.”</p> +<p>“Nph,” said Mr. Untz, eyeing +it. During the drive Dr. Mildume +and Harold had explained more +to him about teleportation and +the monsters and he was more +doubtful than ever about the +whole thing. “So let’s see the +monsters,” he said now. “Time is +fleeing.”</p> +<p>Mildume went in his hopping +step across the patio to a huge +tarpaulin that covered something +square and bulky. He worried the +tarpaulin away. Two steel cages +stood there.</p> +<p>“Sacred carp!” said Mr. Untz.</p> +<p>Two <i>somethings</i> were in the +steel cages.</p> +<p>They were both iridescent +greenish-gray in color, they had +globular bodies, no discernible +heads and eyes on stalks growing +from their bodies. Three eyes +apiece. If they <i>were</i> eyes—anyway, +they looked like eyes. Sweeping +fibrillae came down to the +ground and seemed to serve as +feet. Great saw-toothed red +gashes in the middle of each body +might have been mouths.</p> +<p>“They’re—they’re <i>real</i>. They’re +<i>alive</i>!” said Harold Potter hoarsely. +That was the thing about them. +They had the elusive quality of +life about them—and of course +they were thus infinitely more +terrifying than the prop department’s +fake monsters.</p> +<p>“They’re alive all right,” said +Dr. Mildume chattily. “Took me +quite a bit of experimenting to +discover what to feed them. They +like glass—broken glass. They’re +evidently a silicon rather than a +carbon form of life.”</p> +<p>“This I’ll buy,” said Mr. Untz, +still staring.</p> +<p>“Of course,” said Mildume. “I +knew you would. They will cost +you exactly ten thousand dollars +per day. Per twenty-four hour +period.”</p> +<p>“Profiteer—burglar!” said Mr. +Untz, glaring at Mildume.</p> +<p>Mildume shrugged.</p> +<p>There was an abrupt, high-pitched +squeak. Harold stared at +the monsters. The smaller one +was quivering.</p> +<p>“They do that when they’re +angry,” Dr. Mildume said. “Some +sort of skin vibration. This +smaller one here seems to take +the initiative in things. Must be a +male. Unless there’s female dominance, +as in birds of prey, +wherever these things come from. +I’ve—uh—been unable to ascertain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +which is which, if any.”</p> +<p>Mr. Untz frowned suddenly. +“Look—just how dangerous are +these things?”</p> +<p>“Don’t know <i>exactly</i>,” said Dr. +Mildume. “A pigeon got too near +the cages the other day. They +seemed to enjoy it. Although, as +I say, their staple appears to be +silicon forms. I carelessly set a +Weston analyzer too near them +the other day and they had it for +lunch.”</p> +<p>“If they’re too dangerous ...” +began Mr. Untz.</p> +<p>“What if they are?” said Mildume. +“You make pictures with +wild lions and tigers and alligators, +don’t you? Seems to me you can +find a way. I don’t recommend +letting them out of the cage +however.”</p> +<p>Mr. Untz nodded and said, +“Well, maybe we can get Etienne +Flaubert to do something with +them. He’s the animal trainer we +call on. Anyway Untz always +figures something out. Only that’s +why I like musicals better. There +isn’t so much to figure out and +you can play Victor Herbert +backwards and get new tunes out +of him. So anyway, we’ll get a +truck and get these monsters to +the studio right away.”</p> +<p>It was arranged. It was arranged +with utmost secrecy too. +There were other studios, after +all, and in spite of their wealth +of creative talent it was easier to +steal an idea than cook up a new +one. Atom bomb secrecy descended +upon the Crusader Pictures +lot and most especially upon +Sound Stage Six, where the dream +sequence for the psychological +thriller, “Jolt!” was being filmed.</p> +<p>Even Jimsy LaRoche, the star +of the picture, was excluded from +the big barn-like stage. Mr. Untz +prepared to get his first stock +shots of the beasts.</p> +<p>There were gasps and much +popping of eyebrows when Dr. +Mildume—who had come along +as technical adviser—removed the +tarpaulins from the cages. The +cameramen, the grips, the electricians, +the sound men—all +stared unbelievingly. The script +girl grabbed Mr. Untz’s hand and +dug her fingernails into it. The +makeup stylist clutched the lapels +of his mauve jacket and fainted.</p> +<p>“Nothing to be afraid of,” Mr. +Untz said to everybody. He was +sort of convincing himself too. +“Dr. Mildume here knows all +about the monsters. He’s got +everything under control. So tell +everybody about them, Doctor.”</p> +<p>Mildume nodded, bobbing his +short white beard. He thrust his +hands into his tweed jacket, +looked all around for a moment, +then said, “I don’t know exactly +where the monsters are from. I +had my Q-beam pointed into +space, and I was focussing it, intending +to put it on Mars at the +time of proper conjunction. All +very complicated. However the +beam must have worked prematurely. +These monsters began to +form in the hydrogen chamber.”</p> +<p>Several of the listeners looked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +at other listeners with unmistakable +doubt. Unruffled, Dr. Mildume +went on, “Now, we can +make certain rough assumptions +from the form and structure of +these monsters. You will notice +that except for their appendages +they are globularly formed. Any +engineer can tell you that the +arch and hemisphere sustain the +greatest weight for their mass.</p> +<p>“We may concede that they +come from a planet of very strong +gravity. Their skin, for instance, +is tough and rigid compared with +ours. They have difficulty staying +rooted to earth—often a simple +multipod movement will send +them bouncing to the top of the +cage. There is one other factor—the +smaller of these creatures +seems the more dominant—suggesting +that on their home planet +smaller beings are more agile and +therefore better able to take care +of themselves.”</p> +<p>“There, you see?” interrupted +Mr. Untz, slipping into a pause. +“That’s all there is to it. So now +let us please get down to business.”</p> +<p>So they got down to business. +And it was not easy business, +photographing these monsters. +Keeping the cage wires out of +focus required a critical distance +for each lens but whenever a +camera came too near a fibrilla +would shoot forward—at the +glass, no doubt—and scare the +wits out of the cameramen.</p> +<p>The shorter lenses got too much +of the surrounding area into the +picture. The crew tried and tried. +One technician muttered darkly +that the organization contract +didn’t cover this sort of thing. Mr. +Untz pleaded and cajoled and +heckled and moved about and +tried to keep things going. Somehow, +anyhow.</p> +<p>Eddie Tamoto, the chief +cameraman, finally came up to +him and said, “It’s no use, Max. +These cages simply don’t allow +us to do anything. Why don’t we +put them in the cages they use for +jungle pictures? They’re big and +camouflaged, and the mesh size +is right.”</p> +<p>“So maybe we’ll have to do +that,” said Mr. Untz.</p> +<p>Dr. Mildume dipped his head. +“I don’t know. I’d like to see +these other cages first.”</p> +<p>“Look,” said Mr. Untz. “Don’t +worry about it. If they hold lions +they will hold your whatever-you-call-thems. +I’ll get the animal +trainer, Flaubert, to stand by. He +practically talks to animals—except +horses, which is his hard +luck.”</p> +<p>The jungle cages were duly +summoned and so was Etienne +Flaubert of the Golden West +Animal Education Studios on +Sunset Boulevard. While they +waited Mr. Untz stood aside with +Harold Potter. He mopped his +brow—he gestured at the whole +group. “This,” he said, “is the +story of my life.”</p> +<p>“It is?” asked Harold.</p> +<p>Mr. Untz nodded. “Me, I am +an expert on musicals. Musicals +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +I can do with my left hand. But +ever since I am in Hollywood I +do everything <i>but</i> a musical. And +always something gets fouled up. +Always there is trouble. You will +not believe this, Harold, but I am +an unhappy man.”</p> +<p>“I believe it,” said Harold.</p> +<p>Mr. Untz looked at him sharply +and said, “You don’t have to +believe it so quickly. You could +give me a chance to explain.”</p> +<p>“Look,” said Harold—now +being truly interested and forgetting +some of the first principles +of buttering-up one’s boss, “take +the scientific attitude. Everything +is <i>relative</i>.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Untz, “In +Hollywood everything is relatives, +believe me.”</p> +<p>“No, no—I wasn’t referring to +nepotism,” said Harold. “I was +thinking that you and many +others, of course, prefer musicals. +But there are vast other groups +who prefer westerns, detectives, +comedies or what have you. One +man’s meat is another’s poison.</p> +<p>“But nourishment stays the +same in principle. The artistic +demands still hold and a good +picture is a picture, whatever its +field. Now, if you, as a producer, +can shift to the other fellow’s +viewpoint—find out why the thing +that terrifies you amuses him—or +vice versa.”</p> +<p>“Harold,” said Mr. Untz, not +without suspicion, “are you an +assistant producer or a philosopher?”</p> +<p>“Sometimes to be the one,” +sighed Harold, “you have to be +the other.”</p> +<p>The big jungle cage arrived +presently. While it was being set +up another assistant came to Mr. +Untz and said, “Jimsy LaRoche +is outside, yelling to get in, Mr. +Untz.”</p> +<p>Mr. Untz whirled on the assistant +and said, “Tell that overpaid +brat—who I personally didn’t +want in my picture in the first +place—tell him in the second +place the President of the United +States could not get in here this +afternoon. No, wait a minute, +that wouldn’t mean anything to +him—he makes more money than +the President. Just tell him no.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” said the assistant. +He left.</p> +<p>About then the animal trainer, +Etienne Flaubert, was admitted. +He walked right up to Mr. Untz. +Flaubert was nearly seven feet +tall. He had tremendous shoulders +and none of it was coat padding. +He had a chest one might have +gone over Niagara Falls in. He +had a huge golden beard. When +he spoke it sounded like the bass +viol section of the Los Angeles +Symphony tuning up.</p> +<p>He said to Mr. Untz, “Where +are these monsters I hear about? +I’d like to see the monster that +isn’t just a big kitty, like all the +rest. Big kitties, that’s all they +are. You gotta know how to +handle them.”</p> +<p>Mr. Untz led Flaubert to the +cage and said, “There.”</p> +<p>Flaubert gasped. Then he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +steadied himself. The monsters +had been maneuvered into the +bigger cage by now—Dr. Mildume +had enticed them with broken +electric light bulbs and slammed +the drop-doors behind them by a +remote-control rope. They had +finished their meal of glass. They +were curled in a corner of the +cage now, tentacles wrapped about +each other, squeaking contentedly.</p> +<p>Flaubert recovered a bit.</p> +<p>“Kitties, just big kitties,” he +growled.</p> +<p>Eddie Tamoto called, “Hey, +Max, we’d like to get ’em in the +center of the cage for a shot.” He +was gesturing from the camera +boom seat. “Only moving around. +You know—looking fierce.”</p> +<p>“Can you do it, Flaubert?” +said Mr. Untz, turning to the big +trainer.</p> +<p>“Just big kitties,” said Flaubert.</p> +<p>He had brought his own whip +and blank cartridge pistol. His +assistant stood by with a .30-30 +rifle. Dr. Mildume opened the +door quickly and Flaubert slipped +into the cage.</p> +<p>“Okay—get set, everybody!” +yelled Mr. Untz. People scurried. +An attendant switched on the +warning light and rocker arm that +warned people outside of the +stage not to barge in. “Quiet!” +yelled Mr. Untz. “Quiet—<i>quiet</i>!” +yelled several assistants. The +order went down the line. Through +channels.</p> +<p>And there stood Etienne Flaubert, +huge and more or less unafraid, +in the middle of the cage. +The monsters in the corner began +slowly to uncoil their tentacles +from about each other. Their eye-stalks +rose and began to wave +slowly. Their red saw-toothed +mouths worked into pouts, gapes +and grins.</p> +<p>The smaller of the two suddenly +shuddered all over. Its angry +chirping noise shrilled through +the sound stage. Its tough skin +vibrated—blurred. It sprang suddenly +to its multipods and charged +Flaubert.</p> +<p>Flaubert screamed an unholy +scream. He threw the chair and +the whip and the gun at the +monster and dove from the exit. +Dr. Mildume opened the cage +door with his rope and Flaubert +went through it—himself a blur. +The monster, in his wake, slammed +into the door and stayed +there, trembling, still chirping its +rage.</p> +<p>“Hully gee, what kitties!” said +Flaubert, pale and sweating.</p> +<p>Mr. Untz groaned.</p> +<p>“I got some of it!” yelled Eddie +Tamoto from his camera. “It was +terrific! But we need more!”</p> +<p>Then—simultaneously—there +were several loud screams of +alarm. Mr. Untz looked at the +cage again. The smaller monster +had found a crack, and was +moving the cage door and squeezing +through.</p> +<p>“Harold!” shouted Mr. Untz. +“<i>Do something!</i>”</p> +<p>Harold stepped forward. “Back +everybody,” he said in his best +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +calm voice. “Walk—do not run—to +the nearest exit.”</p> +<p>The second monster was already +vibrating across the cage +and the smaller one was holding +the door open for it. Dr. Mildume +had tried to maneuver the control +ropes to close the door again, +but hadn’t been able to work +them—and now he had left his +post.</p> +<p>Harold pointed to the man with +the rifle and said, “Fire!”</p> +<p>The rifleman fired.</p> +<p>Nothing—nothing at all happened. +He fired several times +more. The monsters didn’t even +jerk when the bullets hit them.</p> +<p>“They’re—they’re impervious +yet!” cried Mr. Untz.</p> +<p>After that it was every man for +himself.</p> +<p>Moments later Harold found +himself outside of the sound stage +and on the studio street, bunched +with the others and staring at the +thick closed door. Nobody spoke. +Everybody just thrummed silently +with the knowledge that two alien +monsters were in there, wreaking +heaven knew what damage....</p> +<p>And then, as they stared, the +thick door began to open again. +“It isn’t locked!” breathed Mr. +Untz. “Nobody remembered to +lock it again!”</p> +<p>A tentacle peeked out of the +crack of the door.</p> +<p>Everybody scattered a second +time.</p> +<p>Harold never remembered the +order in which things happened +amidst the confusion that followed. +It seemed he and Mr. +Untz ran blindly, side by side, +down the studio street for awhile. +It seemed all kinds of people were +also running, in all kinds of directions.</p> +<p>Bells were ringing—sirens blew—a +blue studio police car took a +corner on two wheels and barely +missed them. Harold had a +glimpse of uniformed men with +drawn pistols.</p> +<p>They ended up somehow at Mr. +Untz’s office-cottage. They went +inside and Mr. Untz locked the +door and slammed his back to it. +He leaned there, panting. He said, +“Trouble, trouble, trouble. I +should have stayed in Vienna. +And in Vienna I should have +stood in bed.”</p> +<p>The door of the shower and +dressing-room opened and Jimsy +LaRoche came out. He had a +number of snails in his out-stretched +hand and he coolly kept +them there, making no attempt to +conceal his obvious purpose in the +shower. He looked directly at Mr. +Untz with his dark disconcerting +eleven-year-old eyes and said, +“Well, Max, what goof-off did +you pull this time?”</p> +<p>“<i>You!</i>” roared Mr. Untz, whirling +and shooting a finger at the +child star. A focusing point for +all his troubles, at last. His jowls +shook. “You, Jimsy LaRoche,” +he said, “are going to get your +first old fashioned spanking on +the bottom! From me, personally!” +He advanced toward the +boy, who backed away hastily.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></div> +<p>Jimsy began to look a little +frightened.</p> +<p>“Now wait a minute, Max,” +said Harold, stepping forward. +“We’ve got enough <i>big</i> monsters +to think about without worrying +about this <i>little</i> monster too.”</p> +<p>Mr. Untz stared at Harold +queerly. Suddenly he said, “Why +didn’t I think of it before?”</p> +<p>“Think of what?” asked Harold.</p> +<p>But Mr. Untz had already +grabbed Jimsy LaRoche’s hand +and dragged him through the +door.</p> +<p>There were several reasons why +Harold Potter did not immediately +pursue. For one thing he stood +there for several moments stupified +with surprise. Then, when +he did recover, he plunged forward +and promptly tripped on the +cream-colored carpet and fell flat +on his face. He tripped again +going over the step to the cottage +door. He bumped into a studio +policeman rounding the next corner. +He snagged his coat on a +fence picket going around the +corner after that. But he kept +Mr. Untz and the dragged youngster +in sight.</p> +<p>Eventually he came to the door +of Sound Stage Six.</p> +<p>Speaking from a police standpoint +all laymen had disappeared. +A ring of studio police and firemen, +along with some policemen +and detectives from the outside, +had been drawn around the +monsters and everybody and his +brother was shooting off pistols +and rifles at them. With no result, +of course. Nor did anyone +dare get too close.</p> +<p>Harold caught up with Mr. +Untz about the time a man he +recognized as a reporter did. The +reporter was stout, freckled and +bespectacled.</p> +<p>“<i>Untz!</i>” barked the reporter, +with all the power of the press in +his voice, “do you realize this is +a national danger? If those +monsters can’t be stopped by +bullets, what will stop them? +Where will it all end? Where did +they come from?”</p> +<p>“Look in tomorrow’s paper!” +growled Mr. Untz, brushing the +reporter aside. He kept Jimsy’s +arm in a firm grip. Jimsy was +bawling at the top of his lungs +now. Mr. Untz breasted the +police cordon, broke through.</p> +<p>“Max! <i>Stop!</i>” shouted Harold. +“Max—have you gone mad?”</p> +<p>Max evidently had. He moved +so swiftly that everyone was too +surprised to stop him. He burst +into the small human-walled +arena where the two bewildered +monsters squatted and he thrust +little Jimsy LaRoche out before +him—right at the monsters.</p> +<p>An extraordinary thing happened. +The monsters suddenly +began to quiver and squeak again +but this time—it was clear to the +ear somehow—not with rage, but +with <i>fear</i>. Pure and terrible fear. +They trained their eye-stalks on +Jimsy LaRoche, they paled to a +lighter shade of brown and green, +then slowly they began to back +away.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></div> +<p>“Hold your fire, men!” called +a police captain, probably just to +get into the act.</p> +<p>Dr. Mildume appeared again +from somewhere. So did Etienne +Flaubert. So did Eddie Tamoto +and some of the other technicians. +They gaped and stared.</p> +<p>Slowly, inexorably, using Jimsy +LaRoche as his threat, Mr. Untz +backed the two monsters into the +studio, and gradually to the cage. +Dr. Mildume leaped forward to +shut them in once more.</p> +<p>And through it all Jimsy LaRoche +continued to bawl at the +top of his lungs.</p> +<hr class='invis' /> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>Later</span>, in Mr. Untz’s office-cottage, +Harold read the newspaper +accounts. He read every word +while Mr. Untz was in the other +room taking a shower. He had to +admit that Max had even thrown +a little credit his way. “My assistant, +Mr. Potter,” Untz was +quoted as saying, “indirectly gave +me the idea when he said that +one man’s meat was another +man’s poison.</p> +<p>“Dr. Mildume had already explained +that the monsters came +from a high-gravity planet—that +the smaller of the species evidently +seemed the more capable, +and therefore the dominant one.” +Harold was sure now that the +statement had been polished up a +bit by the publicity department.</p> +<p>“The only logical assumption, +then,” the statement continued, +“was that small stature would +dominate these life forms, rather +than large stature, as in the environment +we know. They were, +in other words, terrified by tiny +Jimsy LaRoche—whose latest +picture, ‘The Atomic Fissionist +and the Waif,’ is now at your +local theatre, by the way—as an +Earth-being might have been terrified +by a giant!”</p> +<p>Mr. Untz came out of the +shower at that point. He was +radiant in a canary-colored rayon +sharkskin. He was rubbing his +hands. He was beaming.</p> +<p>“Harold,” he said, “they’re +putting me on a musical next. I +got them twined around my little +finger. Life is good. I think that +screwy Dr. Mildume was smart +to send those things back out into +space before they could get to +him. Otherwise we might have +<i>had</i> to put them in pictures and +with contracts yet.”</p> +<p>“Max,” said Harold, staring at +him quietly.</p> +<p>“Yes, Harold?”</p> +<p>“Just answer me one thing +truthfully. I swear I’ll never repeat +it—or even blame you. But +for my own curiosity I’ve got to +know.”</p> +<p>“Why certainly, Harold, what +is it?”</p> +<p>Harold Potter swallowed hard. +“Did you,” he asked, “<i>really</i> +figure out that Jimsy would scare +the beasts—or were you about to +<i>throw</i> the little brat to them?”</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class="trnote"> +<p><b>Transcriber Notes</b></p> +<p>This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, January 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication has been renewed.</p> +<p>Page numbers are from the original magazine.</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: 3.21k2 --> +<!-- timestamp: 2010-03-20 23:45:18 -0500 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jimsy and the Monsters, by Walt Sheldon + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JIMSY AND THE MONSTERS *** + +***** This file should be named 31716-h.htm or 31716-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/7/1/31716/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/31716-h/images/cover.jpg b/31716-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..83a5c29 --- /dev/null +++ b/31716-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/31716.txt b/31716.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..509fe09 --- /dev/null +++ b/31716.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1145 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jimsy and the Monsters, by Walt Sheldon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jimsy and the Monsters + +Author: Walt Sheldon + +Release Date: March 21, 2010 [EBook #31716] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JIMSY AND THE MONSTERS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + Science fiction, in collaboration with the idea-men and + technicians of Hollywood, has been responsible for many horrors, + dating back to "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" and "The Lost World." + But Hollywood has created one real-life horror that tops all + creations of fantasy--the child star. In this story we at last see + such a brat meet Things from Alien Space. + + + + +jimsy and the monsters + +by ... Walt Sheldon + + Hollywood could handle just about anything--until Mildume's + machine brought in two real aliens. + + +Mr. Maximilian Untz regarded the monsters with a critical eye. Script +girls, cameramen, sometimes even stars quailed under Mr. Untz's +critical eye--but not these monsters. The first had a globelike head +and several spidery legs. The second was willowy and long-clawed. The +third was covered with hair. The prop department had outdone itself. + +"Get Jimsy," said Mr. Untz, snapping his fingers. + +A young earnest assistant producer with a crew cut turned and relayed +the summons. "Jimsy--Jimsy LaRoche!" Down the line of cables and +cameras it went. _Jimsy_ ... _Jimsy_.... + +A few moments later, from behind the wall flat where he had been +playing canasta with the electricians, emerged Jimsy LaRoche, the +eleven-year-old sensation. He took his time. He wore powder-blue +slacks and a sports shirt and his golden hair was carefully ringleted. +He was frowning. He had been interrupted with a meld of a hundred and +twenty. + +"Okay, so what is it now?" he said, coming up to Mr. Untz. + +Mr. Untz turned and glared down at the youth. Jimsy returned the +glare. There was a sort of cold war between Mr. Untz and Master Jimsy +LaRoche, the sort you could almost hear hotting up. Mr. Untz pointed +to the monsters. "Look, Jimsy. Look at them. What do you think?" He +watched the boy's expression carefully. + +Jimsy said, "To use one of your own expressions, Max--_pfui_. They +wouldn't scare a mouse." And then Jimsy shrugged and walked away. + +Mr. Untz turned to his assistant. "Harold," he said in an injured +tone. "You saw it. You heard it. You see what I've got to put up +with." + +"Sure," said Harold Potter sympathetically. He had mixed feelings +toward Mr. Untz. He admired the producer's occasional flashes of +genius, he deplored his more frequent flashes of stupidity. On the +whole, however, he regarded himself as being on Mr. Untz's side in the +war between Mr. Untz and the world and Hollywood. He knew Mr. Untz's +main trouble. + +Some years ago Maximilian Untz had been brought to Hollywood heralded +as Vienna's greatest producer of musicals. So far he had been assigned +to westerns, detectives, documentaries, a fantasy of the future--but +no musicals. And now it was a psychological thriller. Jimsy played the +killer as a boy and there was to be a dream sequence, a nightmare full +of monsters. Mr. Untz was determined it should be the most terrifying +dream sequence ever filmed. + +Only up to now he wasn't doing so good. + +"I would give," said Mr. Untz to Harold Potter, "my right eye for +some _really_ horrible monsters." He gestured at the world in +general. "Think of it, Harold. We got atom bombs and B-29's, both +vitamins and airplanes, and stuff to cure you of everything from +broken legs to dropsy. A whole world of modern science--but nobody +can make a fake monster. It looks anything but fake and wouldn't scare +an eleven-year-old boy." + +"It's a thought," agreed Harold Potter. He had a feeling for things +scientific; he had taken a B.S. in college but had drifted into +photography and thence into movie production. He had a wife and a +spaniel and a collection of pipes and a house in Santa Monica with a +workshop basement. + +"I got to do some thinking," Mr. Untz said. "I believe I will change +my clothes and take a shower. Come along to the cottage, Harold." + +"Okay," said Harold. He never liked to say yes for fear of being +tagged a yes-man. Anyway, he enjoyed relaxing in the office-cottage +while Mr. Untz showered and changed, which Mr. Untz did some three or +four times a day. When he got there Mr. Untz disappeared into the +dressing-room and Harold picked up a magazine. + +There was a knock on the door. + +Harold got up and crossed the soft cream-colored carpet and opened the +door and saw a goat-like person. + +"Yes?" said Harold. + +"Mildume," said the goat-like person. "Dr. John Mildume. Don't ask a +lot of questions about how I got in. Had a hard enough time as it was. +Fortunately I have several relatives connected with the studio. That's +how I heard of your problem as a matter of fact." + +"My problem?" said Harold. + +Dr. Mildume pushed right in. He was no more than five feet five but +had a normal sized head. It was domelike. Wisps of tarnished white +hair curled about his ears and crown. He had an out-thrust underjaw +with a small white beard on its prow. He was dressed in moderately +shabby tweeds. He moved across the room in an energetic hopping walk +and took the place on the sofa Harold had vacated. + +"Now, then, Mr. Untz," he said, "the first thing we must do is come to +terms." + +"Just a minute," said Harold. "I'm Mr. Untz's assistant, Harold +Potter. Mr. Untz is in the shower. Was he expecting you?" + +Dr. Mildume blinked. "No, not exactly. But he can't afford _not_ to +see me. I know all about it." + +"All about what?" asked Harold. + +"The beasts," the doctor said. + +"The _which_?" + +"Beasts, Potter," snapped the goat-like man. "The nightmare monsters. +Get with it, lad. And what is a dream sequence without them? Ha!" + +"Uh--yes," said Harold a little uncertainly. + +Mildume's finger shot out. "You fellows understand that I'm no +dreamy-eyed impractical scientist. Let's face it--it takes money to +carry on experiments like mine. Good old-fashioned money. I'll need at +least ten thousand dollars." + +Harold raised his eyebrows. "Just what, Dr. Mildume, do you propose to +give us for ten thousand dollars?" + +"Beasts," said Mildume. "_Real_ monsters." + +"I beg your pardon?" said Harold. He began to work out strategies in +his mind. Maybe he could casually walk over to the phone and pick it +up quickly and call the studio police. Maybe he could get the jump on +this madman before he pulled a knife. The thing to do was to humor him +meanwhile.... + +Dr. Mildume said, "I will not deal with underlings. I demand to see +Mr. Untz himself." + +"Well," said Harold, "you understand that Mr. Untz is a busy man. It's +my job to check propositions people have for him. Suppose you tell me +about these beasts of yours." + +Mildume shrugged. "Doubt if you'll understand it any better than Untz +will. But it's no more complicated than television when you boil it +right down. You're familiar, I take it, with the basic principle of +television?" + +"Oh, sure," said Harold, brightening. "Keep things moving. Have a +master of ceremonies who keeps jumping in and out of the act. Give +something away to the audience, if possible, to make them feel ashamed +not to tune in." + +"No, no, no, no, _no_!" said Mildume. "I mean the technical +principles. A photo-electric beam scans the subject, translates light +and dark into electrical impulses, which eventually alter a cathode +ray played upon a fluorescent screen. Hence, the image. You grasp that +roughly, I take it?" + +"Roughly," said Harold. + +"Well," continued Mildume, "just as spots of light and dark are the +building blocks of an image, so sub-atomic particles are the building +blocks of matter. Once we recognize this the teleportation theory +becomes relatively simple. There are engineering difficulties, of +course. + +"We must go back to Faraday's three laws of electrolysis--and +Chadwick's establishment in nineteen thirty-one of the fact that +radiation is merely the movement of particles of proton mass without +proton charge. Neutrons, you see. Also that atomic weights are close +integers, when hydrogen is one point zero zero eight. Thus I use +hydrogen as a basis. Simple, isn't it?" + +Harold frowned. "Wait a minute. What's this you're talking +about--_teleportation_? You mean a way of moving matter through space, +just as television moves an image through space?" + +"Well, not precisely," said Mildume. "It's more a duplication of +matter. My Mildume beam--really another expression of the quanta or +light energy absorbed by atoms--scans and analyzes matter. The wave +variations are retranslated into form, or formulae, at a distant +point--the receiving point." + +Harold lowered one eyebrow. "And this really works?" + +"Of course," said Mildume. "Oh, it's still crude. It doesn't work all +the time. It works only along vast distances. I won't announce it +until I perfect it further. Meanwhile I need more money to carry +on and when, through certain relatives, I heard of Mr. Untz's +problem--well, it was simply too much to resist. You see, I've +managed to teleport a couple of frightful monsters from somewhere +out of space. I was wondering what on earth to do with them." + +"Where--where are they?" asked Harold. + +"In my back yard," said Dr. Mildume. + +At that point Mr. Maximilian Untz abruptly reappeared. He smelled of +lotion and he was now dressed in a relatively conservative gabardine +of forest green with a lavender shirt and a black knitted tie. + +"Hello," he said. He looked at Mildume. "So who is this?" + +"He says he has monsters for the dream sequence in his back yard," +explained Harold. "_Real_ ones." + +"Look," said Mr. Untz, "kindly ask the gentleman to get lost, will +you, Harold?" + +"No, wait," Harold said. "He may have something. He explained some of +it to me. It sounds almost possible. We can't lose much by taking a +look." + +"Only a few thousand dollars a minute," said Mr. Untz. + +"_Bah--money!_" said Dr. Mildume. "Which reminds me--these monsters of +mine are going to cost you. Let's have that understood, right now." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Untz's eyebrows went up. This kind of talk he understood. He +reached into the side pocket of the gabardine for his cigarette case. +He kept a separate gold case in each suit. + +"_Yeeeeow!_" said Mr. Untz. + +His hand came out of the pocket with a small green snake in it. + +"Drop it! Stand back!" said Harold, being cool. + +"Don't worry about it," said Dr. Mildume in a calmer voice. He was +blinking mildly at the snake. "It's merely an ordinary species of +garden snake, sometimes erroneously called garter snake. Curious it +should be there." + +Harold looked at Dr. Mildume sharply. "This teleportation of yours +wouldn't have anything to do with it by any chance?" + +"Of course not," snapped Mildume. + +"_I_ know how it got here!" said Mr. Untz, his jowls trembling. He had +already dropped the snake. "A certain child star whose initials are +Jimsy LaRoche! Last week he gives me a hotfoot. Monday a wet +seat--soaked newspapers in my chair under one thin dry one. Yesterday +a big frog in my shower. I should take that brat over my knee and +spank him to his face!" + +"Mm--ah--of course," said Dr. Mildume without much interest in the +topic. "Shall we go to inspect the monsters now?" + +Mr. Untz thought it over, only long enough to keep himself within the +time limits of a Man of Decision. Then he said, "Okay, so we'll go +now." + +They passed Jimsy LaRoche on the way out. He was drinking pineapple +juice and sitting with his tutor, studying his lines. He smirked as +Mr. Untz passed. Mr. Untz scowled back but didn't say anything. In +Jovian silence he led the way to his car. + +It turned out to be a longer ride than they had expected. Dr. Mildume +lived in Twenty-nine Palms and, as Mr. Untz explained it, this was too +short for an airplane and too long for an automobile. Mr. Untz was +not in his best humor when they stopped before Dr. Mildume's stucco +and tile-roof house. + +Mildume directed them immediately to a walled-in patio in the rear of +the place. A shed-roof covered one side of the patio and under it were +racks of equipment. Harold recognized banks of relays, power +amplifiers, oscillographs and some other familiar devices. There were +also some strange ones. + +Mildume waved his long fingers at all of it. "My teleportation set-up +is entirely too bulky so far for practical use, as you can see." + +"Nph," said Mr. Untz, eyeing it. During the drive Dr. Mildume and +Harold had explained more to him about teleportation and the monsters +and he was more doubtful than ever about the whole thing. "So let's +see the monsters," he said now. "Time is fleeing." + +Mildume went in his hopping step across the patio to a huge tarpaulin +that covered something square and bulky. He worried the tarpaulin +away. Two steel cages stood there. + +"Sacred carp!" said Mr. Untz. + +Two _somethings_ were in the steel cages. + +They were both iridescent greenish-gray in color, they had globular +bodies, no discernible heads and eyes on stalks growing from their +bodies. Three eyes apiece. If they _were_ eyes--anyway, they looked +like eyes. Sweeping fibrillae came down to the ground and seemed to +serve as feet. Great saw-toothed red gashes in the middle of each body +might have been mouths. + +"They're--they're _real_. They're _alive_!" said Harold Potter +hoarsely. That was the thing about them. They had the elusive quality +of life about them--and of course they were thus infinitely more +terrifying than the prop department's fake monsters. + +"They're alive all right," said Dr. Mildume chattily. "Took me quite a +bit of experimenting to discover what to feed them. They like +glass--broken glass. They're evidently a silicon rather than a carbon +form of life." + +"This I'll buy," said Mr. Untz, still staring. + +"Of course," said Mildume. "I knew you would. They will cost you +exactly ten thousand dollars per day. Per twenty-four hour period." + +"Profiteer--burglar!" said Mr. Untz, glaring at Mildume. + +Mildume shrugged. + +There was an abrupt, high-pitched squeak. Harold stared at the +monsters. The smaller one was quivering. + +"They do that when they're angry," Dr. Mildume said. "Some sort of +skin vibration. This smaller one here seems to take the initiative in +things. Must be a male. Unless there's female dominance, as in birds +of prey, wherever these things come from. I've--uh--been unable to +ascertain which is which, if any." + +Mr. Untz frowned suddenly. "Look--just how dangerous are these +things?" + +"Don't know _exactly_," said Dr. Mildume. "A pigeon got too near the +cages the other day. They seemed to enjoy it. Although, as I say, +their staple appears to be silicon forms. I carelessly set a Weston +analyzer too near them the other day and they had it for lunch." + +"If they're too dangerous ..." began Mr. Untz. + +"What if they are?" said Mildume. "You make pictures with wild lions +and tigers and alligators, don't you? Seems to me you can find a way. +I don't recommend letting them out of the cage however." + +Mr. Untz nodded and said, "Well, maybe we can get Etienne Flaubert to +do something with them. He's the animal trainer we call on. Anyway +Untz always figures something out. Only that's why I like musicals +better. There isn't so much to figure out and you can play Victor +Herbert backwards and get new tunes out of him. So anyway, we'll get a +truck and get these monsters to the studio right away." + +It was arranged. It was arranged with utmost secrecy too. There were +other studios, after all, and in spite of their wealth of creative +talent it was easier to steal an idea than cook up a new one. Atom +bomb secrecy descended upon the Crusader Pictures lot and most +especially upon Sound Stage Six, where the dream sequence for the +psychological thriller, "Jolt!" was being filmed. + +Even Jimsy LaRoche, the star of the picture, was excluded from the big +barn-like stage. Mr. Untz prepared to get his first stock shots of the +beasts. + +There were gasps and much popping of eyebrows when Dr. Mildume--who +had come along as technical adviser--removed the tarpaulins from the +cages. The cameramen, the grips, the electricians, the sound men--all +stared unbelievingly. The script girl grabbed Mr. Untz's hand and dug +her fingernails into it. The makeup stylist clutched the lapels of his +mauve jacket and fainted. + +"Nothing to be afraid of," Mr. Untz said to everybody. He was sort of +convincing himself too. "Dr. Mildume here knows all about the +monsters. He's got everything under control. So tell everybody about +them, Doctor." + +Mildume nodded, bobbing his short white beard. He thrust his hands +into his tweed jacket, looked all around for a moment, then said, "I +don't know exactly where the monsters are from. I had my Q-beam +pointed into space, and I was focussing it, intending to put it on +Mars at the time of proper conjunction. All very complicated. However +the beam must have worked prematurely. These monsters began to form in +the hydrogen chamber." + +Several of the listeners looked at other listeners with unmistakable +doubt. Unruffled, Dr. Mildume went on, "Now, we can make certain rough +assumptions from the form and structure of these monsters. You will +notice that except for their appendages they are globularly formed. +Any engineer can tell you that the arch and hemisphere sustain the +greatest weight for their mass. + +"We may concede that they come from a planet of very strong gravity. +Their skin, for instance, is tough and rigid compared with ours. They +have difficulty staying rooted to earth--often a simple multipod +movement will send them bouncing to the top of the cage. There is one +other factor--the smaller of these creatures seems the more +dominant--suggesting that on their home planet smaller beings are more +agile and therefore better able to take care of themselves." + +"There, you see?" interrupted Mr. Untz, slipping into a pause. "That's +all there is to it. So now let us please get down to business." + +So they got down to business. And it was not easy business, +photographing these monsters. Keeping the cage wires out of focus +required a critical distance for each lens but whenever a camera came +too near a fibrilla would shoot forward--at the glass, no doubt--and +scare the wits out of the cameramen. + +The shorter lenses got too much of the surrounding area into the +picture. The crew tried and tried. One technician muttered darkly that +the organization contract didn't cover this sort of thing. Mr. Untz +pleaded and cajoled and heckled and moved about and tried to keep +things going. Somehow, anyhow. + +Eddie Tamoto, the chief cameraman, finally came up to him and said, +"It's no use, Max. These cages simply don't allow us to do anything. +Why don't we put them in the cages they use for jungle pictures? +They're big and camouflaged, and the mesh size is right." + +"So maybe we'll have to do that," said Mr. Untz. + +Dr. Mildume dipped his head. "I don't know. I'd like to see these +other cages first." + +"Look," said Mr. Untz. "Don't worry about it. If they hold lions they +will hold your whatever-you-call-thems. I'll get the animal trainer, +Flaubert, to stand by. He practically talks to animals--except horses, +which is his hard luck." + +The jungle cages were duly summoned and so was Etienne Flaubert of the +Golden West Animal Education Studios on Sunset Boulevard. While they +waited Mr. Untz stood aside with Harold Potter. He mopped his brow--he +gestured at the whole group. "This," he said, "is the story of my +life." + +"It is?" asked Harold. + +Mr. Untz nodded. "Me, I am an expert on musicals. Musicals I can do +with my left hand. But ever since I am in Hollywood I do everything +_but_ a musical. And always something gets fouled up. Always there is +trouble. You will not believe this, Harold, but I am an unhappy man." + +"I believe it," said Harold. + +Mr. Untz looked at him sharply and said, "You don't have to believe it +so quickly. You could give me a chance to explain." + +"Look," said Harold--now being truly interested and forgetting some of +the first principles of buttering-up one's boss, "take the scientific +attitude. Everything is _relative_." + +"Yes," said Mr. Untz, "In Hollywood everything is relatives, believe +me." + +"No, no--I wasn't referring to nepotism," said Harold. "I was thinking +that you and many others, of course, prefer musicals. But there are +vast other groups who prefer westerns, detectives, comedies or what +have you. One man's meat is another's poison. + +"But nourishment stays the same in principle. The artistic demands +still hold and a good picture is a picture, whatever its field. Now, +if you, as a producer, can shift to the other fellow's viewpoint--find +out why the thing that terrifies you amuses him--or vice versa." + +"Harold," said Mr. Untz, not without suspicion, "are you an assistant +producer or a philosopher?" + +"Sometimes to be the one," sighed Harold, "you have to be the other." + +The big jungle cage arrived presently. While it was being set up +another assistant came to Mr. Untz and said, "Jimsy LaRoche is +outside, yelling to get in, Mr. Untz." + +Mr. Untz whirled on the assistant and said, "Tell that overpaid +brat--who I personally didn't want in my picture in the first +place--tell him in the second place the President of the United States +could not get in here this afternoon. No, wait a minute, that wouldn't +mean anything to him--he makes more money than the President. Just +tell him no." + +"Yes, sir," said the assistant. He left. + +About then the animal trainer, Etienne Flaubert, was admitted. He +walked right up to Mr. Untz. Flaubert was nearly seven feet tall. He +had tremendous shoulders and none of it was coat padding. He had a +chest one might have gone over Niagara Falls in. He had a huge golden +beard. When he spoke it sounded like the bass viol section of the Los +Angeles Symphony tuning up. + +He said to Mr. Untz, "Where are these monsters I hear about? I'd like +to see the monster that isn't just a big kitty, like all the rest. Big +kitties, that's all they are. You gotta know how to handle them." + +Mr. Untz led Flaubert to the cage and said, "There." + +Flaubert gasped. Then he steadied himself. The monsters had been +maneuvered into the bigger cage by now--Dr. Mildume had enticed them +with broken electric light bulbs and slammed the drop-doors behind +them by a remote-control rope. They had finished their meal of glass. +They were curled in a corner of the cage now, tentacles wrapped about +each other, squeaking contentedly. + +Flaubert recovered a bit. + +"Kitties, just big kitties," he growled. + +Eddie Tamoto called, "Hey, Max, we'd like to get 'em in the center of +the cage for a shot." He was gesturing from the camera boom seat. +"Only moving around. You know--looking fierce." + +"Can you do it, Flaubert?" said Mr. Untz, turning to the big trainer. + +"Just big kitties," said Flaubert. + +He had brought his own whip and blank cartridge pistol. His assistant +stood by with a .30-30 rifle. Dr. Mildume opened the door quickly and +Flaubert slipped into the cage. + +"Okay--get set, everybody!" yelled Mr. Untz. People scurried. An +attendant switched on the warning light and rocker arm that warned +people outside of the stage not to barge in. "Quiet!" yelled Mr. Untz. +"Quiet--_quiet_!" yelled several assistants. The order went down the +line. Through channels. + +And there stood Etienne Flaubert, huge and more or less unafraid, in +the middle of the cage. The monsters in the corner began slowly to +uncoil their tentacles from about each other. Their eye-stalks rose +and began to wave slowly. Their red saw-toothed mouths worked into +pouts, gapes and grins. + +The smaller of the two suddenly shuddered all over. Its angry +chirping noise shrilled through the sound stage. Its tough skin +vibrated--blurred. It sprang suddenly to its multipods and charged +Flaubert. + +Flaubert screamed an unholy scream. He threw the chair and the whip +and the gun at the monster and dove from the exit. Dr. Mildume opened +the cage door with his rope and Flaubert went through it--himself a +blur. The monster, in his wake, slammed into the door and stayed +there, trembling, still chirping its rage. + +"Hully gee, what kitties!" said Flaubert, pale and sweating. + +Mr. Untz groaned. + +"I got some of it!" yelled Eddie Tamoto from his camera. "It was +terrific! But we need more!" + +Then--simultaneously--there were several loud screams of alarm. Mr. +Untz looked at the cage again. The smaller monster had found a crack, +and was moving the cage door and squeezing through. + +"Harold!" shouted Mr. Untz. "_Do something!_" + +Harold stepped forward. "Back everybody," he said in his best calm +voice. "Walk--do not run--to the nearest exit." + +The second monster was already vibrating across the cage and the +smaller one was holding the door open for it. Dr. Mildume had tried to +maneuver the control ropes to close the door again, but hadn't been +able to work them--and now he had left his post. + +Harold pointed to the man with the rifle and said, "Fire!" + +The rifleman fired. + +Nothing--nothing at all happened. He fired several times more. The +monsters didn't even jerk when the bullets hit them. + +"They're--they're impervious yet!" cried Mr. Untz. + +After that it was every man for himself. + +Moments later Harold found himself outside of the sound stage and on +the studio street, bunched with the others and staring at the thick +closed door. Nobody spoke. Everybody just thrummed silently with the +knowledge that two alien monsters were in there, wreaking heaven knew +what damage.... + +And then, as they stared, the thick door began to open again. "It +isn't locked!" breathed Mr. Untz. "Nobody remembered to lock it +again!" + +A tentacle peeked out of the crack of the door. + +Everybody scattered a second time. + +Harold never remembered the order in which things happened amidst the +confusion that followed. It seemed he and Mr. Untz ran blindly, side +by side, down the studio street for awhile. It seemed all kinds of +people were also running, in all kinds of directions. + +Bells were ringing--sirens blew--a blue studio police car took a +corner on two wheels and barely missed them. Harold had a glimpse of +uniformed men with drawn pistols. + +They ended up somehow at Mr. Untz's office-cottage. They went inside +and Mr. Untz locked the door and slammed his back to it. He leaned +there, panting. He said, "Trouble, trouble, trouble. I should have +stayed in Vienna. And in Vienna I should have stood in bed." + +The door of the shower and dressing-room opened and Jimsy LaRoche came +out. He had a number of snails in his out-stretched hand and he coolly +kept them there, making no attempt to conceal his obvious purpose in +the shower. He looked directly at Mr. Untz with his dark disconcerting +eleven-year-old eyes and said, "Well, Max, what goof-off did you pull +this time?" + +"_You!_" roared Mr. Untz, whirling and shooting a finger at the child +star. A focusing point for all his troubles, at last. His jowls shook. +"You, Jimsy LaRoche," he said, "are going to get your first old +fashioned spanking on the bottom! From me, personally!" He advanced +toward the boy, who backed away hastily. + +Jimsy began to look a little frightened. + +"Now wait a minute, Max," said Harold, stepping forward. "We've got +enough _big_ monsters to think about without worrying about this +_little_ monster too." + +Mr. Untz stared at Harold queerly. Suddenly he said, "Why didn't I +think of it before?" + +"Think of what?" asked Harold. + +But Mr. Untz had already grabbed Jimsy LaRoche's hand and dragged him +through the door. + +There were several reasons why Harold Potter did not immediately +pursue. For one thing he stood there for several moments stupified +with surprise. Then, when he did recover, he plunged forward and +promptly tripped on the cream-colored carpet and fell flat on his +face. He tripped again going over the step to the cottage door. He +bumped into a studio policeman rounding the next corner. He snagged +his coat on a fence picket going around the corner after that. But he +kept Mr. Untz and the dragged youngster in sight. + +Eventually he came to the door of Sound Stage Six. + +Speaking from a police standpoint all laymen had disappeared. A ring +of studio police and firemen, along with some policemen and detectives +from the outside, had been drawn around the monsters and everybody and +his brother was shooting off pistols and rifles at them. With no +result, of course. Nor did anyone dare get too close. + +Harold caught up with Mr. Untz about the time a man he recognized as a +reporter did. The reporter was stout, freckled and bespectacled. + +"_Untz!_" barked the reporter, with all the power of the press in his +voice, "do you realize this is a national danger? If those monsters +can't be stopped by bullets, what will stop them? Where will it all +end? Where did they come from?" + +"Look in tomorrow's paper!" growled Mr. Untz, brushing the reporter +aside. He kept Jimsy's arm in a firm grip. Jimsy was bawling at the +top of his lungs now. Mr. Untz breasted the police cordon, broke +through. + +"Max! _Stop!_" shouted Harold. "Max--have you gone mad?" + +Max evidently had. He moved so swiftly that everyone was too surprised +to stop him. He burst into the small human-walled arena where the two +bewildered monsters squatted and he thrust little Jimsy LaRoche out +before him--right at the monsters. + +An extraordinary thing happened. The monsters suddenly began to quiver +and squeak again but this time--it was clear to the ear somehow--not +with rage, but with _fear_. Pure and terrible fear. They trained their +eye-stalks on Jimsy LaRoche, they paled to a lighter shade of brown +and green, then slowly they began to back away. + +"Hold your fire, men!" called a police captain, probably just to get +into the act. + +Dr. Mildume appeared again from somewhere. So did Etienne Flaubert. So +did Eddie Tamoto and some of the other technicians. They gaped and +stared. + +Slowly, inexorably, using Jimsy LaRoche as his threat, Mr. Untz backed +the two monsters into the studio, and gradually to the cage. Dr. +Mildume leaped forward to shut them in once more. + +And through it all Jimsy LaRoche continued to bawl at the top of his +lungs. + + * * * * * + +Later, in Mr. Untz's office-cottage, Harold read the newspaper +accounts. He read every word while Mr. Untz was in the other room +taking a shower. He had to admit that Max had even thrown a little +credit his way. "My assistant, Mr. Potter," Untz was quoted as saying, +"indirectly gave me the idea when he said that one man's meat was +another man's poison. + +"Dr. Mildume had already explained that the monsters came from a +high-gravity planet--that the smaller of the species evidently seemed +the more capable, and therefore the dominant one." Harold was sure now +that the statement had been polished up a bit by the publicity +department. + +"The only logical assumption, then," the statement continued, "was +that small stature would dominate these life forms, rather than large +stature, as in the environment we know. They were, in other words, +terrified by tiny Jimsy LaRoche--whose latest picture, 'The Atomic +Fissionist and the Waif,' is now at your local theatre, by the way--as +an Earth-being might have been terrified by a giant!" + +Mr. Untz came out of the shower at that point. He was radiant in a +canary-colored rayon sharkskin. He was rubbing his hands. He was +beaming. + +"Harold," he said, "they're putting me on a musical next. I got them +twined around my little finger. Life is good. I think that screwy Dr. +Mildume was smart to send those things back out into space before they +could get to him. Otherwise we might have _had_ to put them in +pictures and with contracts yet." + +"Max," said Harold, staring at him quietly. + +"Yes, Harold?" + +"Just answer me one thing truthfully. I swear I'll never repeat it--or +even blame you. But for my own curiosity I've got to know." + +"Why certainly, Harold, what is it?" + +Harold Potter swallowed hard. "Did you," he asked, "_really_ figure +out that Jimsy would scare the beasts--or were you about to _throw_ +the little brat to them?" + + + + +Transcriber Notes + +This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, January 1954. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication has been renewed. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jimsy and the Monsters, by Walt Sheldon + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JIMSY AND THE MONSTERS *** + +***** This file should be named 31716.txt or 31716.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/7/1/31716/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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