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+    <meta charset="UTF-8">
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+    <title>
+      Pink Grass Planet | Project Gutenberg
+    </title>
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+    <style>
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+
+/* Transcriber's notes */
+.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA;
+    color: black;
+    font-size:small;
+    padding:0.5em;
+    margin-bottom:5em;
+    font-family:sans-serif, serif;
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+
+
+/* Illustration classes */
+.illowe114_4375 {width: 114.4375em;}
+    </style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78138 ***</div>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowe114_4375" id="cover">
+  <img class="w20" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      Transcribed from Fantastic Universe, May 1955 (Vol. 3, No. 4.).
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div>
+<h1>
+Pink Grass Planet
+</h1>
+
+
+<p class="center f15">by <strong>Sam Merwin Jr.</strong></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><i>In offering this delightful new Sam Merwin story to you we may be
+inviting just about the worst disaster that could befall an editor of
+a science-fantasy magazine. For, given man’s eternal restlessness and
+his all-too-frequent subservience to fads and fancies, the tragedy so
+vividly depicted here may someday come true. Then we’ll be accused
+of being an accessory before the fact, and suffer the harsh fate of
+prophets everywhere. A dire risk, truly!</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2"><b>A man may grieve his heart out for a paradise left behind. But five
+short years of human folly may make that world a nightmare.</b></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div>
+
+
+
+<p>The starship landed at night. When Ricardo Webb stepped out on the
+ramp, the first thing he did was take a deep breath of the sharp,
+strange-familiar air of Earth. When he exhaled, in the glow of the
+fluorescent field-lamps, he could see a little cloud of vapor emerge
+and dissipate quickly against the brisk November night.</p>
+
+<p>He told himself he would never curse a terrestrial winter again. After
+five years in the tepid showerbath air of Lri-gTu-riANa, he even looked
+forward to shoveling snow. This was Earth, this was home—and it felt
+good to be back. Better than good, in fact.</p>
+
+<p>He stared about him, searching for a warmth and a radiance that would
+make his happiness complete. Then Carla spun out of the whirling group
+of reporters, officials and just plain people who had come to meet
+the starship, and flung herself into his arms. “Ricci, darling!” She
+whispered, twisting her pretty face so that her lips met his almost
+vertically.</p>
+
+<p>He thought, <i>I’ll have to do something about that</i>. He held her
+supple softness off at arm’s length and said, “Do I know you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Idiot!” She laughed and kissed him again. “Come on,” she said.
+“Mother’s cooking a turkey, and dad can’t wait to ask you about fishing
+on Liguria.”</p>
+
+<p>Lri-gTu-riANa—Liguria. The contraction simplified the name for
+Earth-tongues, but it sounded odd to Ricardo. He hoped not too many of
+the once-familiar place names of Earth would sound odd to his ears.
+He wanted to forget about Lri-gTu-riANa for awhile, and rejoice in
+the incredible bright wonder of his homecoming. He said: “They use
+needle-rays instead of dry flies on—Liguria. It’s not the same.”</p>
+
+<p>“Idiot!” she said again, affectionately. “<i>I</i> don’t give a
+<i>fringo</i> how they catch fish on Liguria—that’s for dad. I’m just
+glad you’re back.” She hugged his elbow. “I’ve got an aircar waiting.”</p>
+
+<p><i>Fringo!</i> He wondered where Carla had picked that one up. It was a
+Lri-gTu-riANan expression, not entirely decent by accepted terrestrial
+standards. But no one who had not been to Lri-gTu-riANa would know.
+He wondered if he’d ever get used to calling the planet of his exile
+Liguria.</p>
+
+<p>A Vidar newscaster intercepted them before they reached the aircar
+beyond the administration building. Ricardo enjoyed the man’s nasal,
+staccato chatter after the soft slow accents he had been forced to
+listen to from dawn to dusk for five long years. The man said, turning
+his vidamike toward Carla so that she, too, would appear on two
+hundred million precision-tuned screens, “Mr. Webb, I see you’ve got a
+real honeycomb with you. Tell me, how does she look to you after the
+Ligurian <i>Fraislies</i>?”</p>
+
+<p>“Great—just great!” said Ricardo sincerely.</p>
+
+<p>He wondered, feeling a pang of conscience, just how much people on
+Earth knew about the <i>fraislies</i>—and how much they could accept
+without lifting their eyebrows. Everything was so different on the
+first civilized planet man had discovered. And Ricardo had discovered
+how thoroughly even the most pleasant exoticism can pall. He was
+relieved when the newscaster moved on to another returnee.</p>
+
+<p>Carla and he took off as soon as his luggage had been inspected and
+cleared. He gave her the ring which he had had fashioned of a single
+chunk of pale blue, luminous Ligurian jade. She kissed him again as
+she slipped it on her fourth finger, atop the diamond-and-platinum
+engagement ring she had been wearing for five years.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, <i>darling</i>!” she murmured. “This is the loveliest thing! The
+other girls will hate me for having it—and for having you.”</p>
+
+<p>This time, when their lips met, he held her face upright between his
+palms. But when he moved his hands lower to caress her, she twisted her
+head again so her lips crossed his almost vertically. But so ardent was
+the embrace that he didn’t really care. It was pleasantly dark and warm
+in the aircar, and the cushions were soft, and the automatic pilot was
+doing all the work....</p>
+
+<p>Carla’s mother, wearing a plastapron, met them at the door. She was a
+pale, plump woman, who twittered like a fluttering, migratory bird. She
+had set her face sternly against her daughter’s engagement to Ricardo
+but now that he had returned indisputably famous she chose to believe
+that the selection of Carla’s fiancé had been hers alone.</p>
+
+<p>Ricardo was relieved when she fled to the kitchen, twittering over a
+bare pink shoulder, “I had the bird stuffed with <i>loocoo-sran</i>
+berries, in honor of your arrival, Ricci. Won’t that be divinely nice?”</p>
+
+<p>He was sure the berries would spoil his meal. If there was one thing
+he had developed a hatred for, beyond all others on Lri-gTu-riANa, it
+was the all-pervasive sweet-sour tartness of the <i>loocoo-sran</i>
+ingredient in that planet’s cuisine. It was a standing joke in the
+Earth-colony that their hosts used <i>loocoo-sran</i> berries to brush
+their teeth, so the flavor would remain with them between meals to
+bolster up their egos.</p>
+
+<p>Carla darted into her room and Mr. Baker put an arm across Ricardo’s
+shoulders and led him to the servabar at one end of the living room.
+He was a large, hearty man with a booming voice. He said, “It’s good
+to have you back, son. I think the occasion demands a little liquid
+refreshment. I picked up a case of <i>praglian</i> yesterday, in honor
+of your arrival.”</p>
+
+<p><i>Praglian!</i> The thought of its thick, sweetish flavor made him
+physically ill. There had been a time, during the early portion of his
+stay on Lri-gTu-riANa, when he had enjoyed drinking the stuff. There
+had also been a time, before he went to Lri-gTu-riANa, when he would
+simply have told Mr. Baker he’d rather have whiskey—good straight
+Earth whiskey, 90 proof. But five years of Lri-gTu-riANan politeness
+had made such candor impossible. He drank <i>praglian</i>, and tried
+not to make a face.</p>
+
+<p>Carla came wandering in, wearing snowy white boots, shorts and bolero
+jacket. She looked adorable, and she felt adorable as she snuggled
+close to him and took a sip from his glass. There was just one flaw.
+Now that she had her hat off, he saw that her naturally auburn hair had
+been dyed a pale Ligurian green.</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you do it, honey?” he asked her, no longer able to obey the
+inner compulsion toward politeness he had acquired on the alien planet.</p>
+
+<p>She thrust a laughing face up at him and said, “Isn’t it
+<i>crspaltish</i>? All the girls are doing it lately. It’s the absolute
+rage.”</p>
+
+<p>Of course, she mispronounced <i>crspaltish</i>. But Ricardo didn’t
+correct her. The less Ligurian he heard, he told himself bitterly, the
+better he was going to like it.</p>
+
+<p>To his surprise, he enjoyed the dinner. Apparently, the
+<i>loocoo-sran</i> berries had been adulterated to suit terrestrial
+palates, or else he was so used to the flavor that his own taste
+had become blunted. At any rate, the radar-cooked turkey was
+marvelous—crisp and brown on the outside, and unbelievably tender and
+white within. And the rest of the food was untainted with Ligurian
+seasonings. He ate until the lastex band of his clout made groves
+against the skin of his stomach.</p>
+
+<p>Satiated, he sat on the living room sofa, his fingers entwined with
+Carla’s, and wondered why anyone should want to go to Lri-gTu-riANa
+when Earth was so much better, so much more suited to the race of men.
+In the dim light, he had to look hard to see that Carla’s hair was
+Ligurian green. He didn’t strain his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Baker, in the rockofit chair, was wearing the <i>flausmraka</i>
+bolero he had brought her, and Mr. Baker, in his layback seat, was
+puffing on the tube of the Ligurian <i>clisra</i>-pipe Ricardo had dug
+out of his luggage right after dinner. He hadn’t quite mastered the
+technique and made faint slurping sounds at regular intervals.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m so <i>glad</i> you’re back,” Carla whispered, close to his ear.
+“It was worth waiting five years for. Or an eternity,” she added,
+snuggling even closer to him.</p>
+
+<p>Ricardo gave her hand a squeeze. This was Earth. This was home. This
+was Carla, glorious in bolero jacket and snowy boots.</p>
+
+<p>At nine o’clock the vidar announcer appeared and said, “And
+now, Rafflex Exterminator, the exterminator that terminates,
+presents its long-awaited ninety-minute superspectacular in tri-di
+triple-color—<i>Life on Liguria!</i> See the famous authentic
+<i>shlastric</i> festival, learn how the seductive <i>loofahs</i>
+select their mates, thrill to the excitement and danger of a
+<i>kifs</i>-hunt in the deadly <i>snree-achian</i> jungle, all brought
+to you by courtesy of Rafflex Exterminator, the ex—”</p>
+
+<p>“Come on, honey,” said Ricardo, getting to his feet. “Let’s take a
+walk. Will you excuse us, Mrs. Baker?”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Baker was so deeply engrossed in the vidar that he had to repeat
+the question twice.</p>
+
+<p>Outside, the night was warm—Carla lived almost a thousand miles
+south of the spaceport—and the moon was as large and mellow as a
+lump of unsalted butter. It looked dangerously huge and close to
+Ricardo, accustomed as he was to the four swift and tiny satellites of
+Lri-gTu-riANa. But the poplars whispered in the soft breeze and the
+grass of the lawn was crisply tender beneath his feet. Carla kissed
+him—sideways, Liguria-style again—and then said with a sigh, “That’s
+what I love about you most, Ricci. You’re so courtly and polite. Asking
+mother if we could take a walk! I don’t even mind your having had a
+<i>loofa</i> on Liguria.”</p>
+
+<p>“What makes you think I had a <i>loofa</i>?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Silly! Doesn’t everyone?” she countered. “When in Rome....”</p>
+
+<p>“As a matter of fact, there wasn’t much choice,” he told her.</p>
+
+<p>He was glad, in a way, that she had accepted the fact that his years on
+Lri-gTu-riANa had not been celibate. Yet her easy acquiescence bothered
+him a little. It seemed—un-Earthlike. It would have been more in
+character if she had given him hell. It would have been more flattering
+to his ego. In her casual acceptance of a biological frailty, she
+seemed almost like a <i>fraislie</i>.</p>
+
+<p>No one who had not lived on the planet could ever really understand its
+society. Not that the natives weren’t surprisingly human. In sober fact
+they came as close to being human as any race could without actually
+belonging to the same species. But their society had developed along
+more temperate lines. After all, Lri-gTu-riANa was a milder planet than
+Earth.</p>
+
+<p>There were no sex crimes on Lri-gTu-riANa, because there was no sexual
+repression. Mating had been reduced to a mere social pleasure—almost
+as casually accepted as the custom of shaking hands on Earth. The only
+thing outlawed on Lri-gTu-riANa was ugliness in any shape or form. That
+hatred of ugliness had been the most difficult factor for the Earth
+visitors to adjust to. No matter how useful anything was, no matter how
+sorely needed—if it was ugly, it was out—O-U-T, <i>out</i>!</p>
+
+<p>Without closing his eyes, Ricardo could see in vivid visual
+retrospect his red-headed chief, Captain Luders, turning scarlet with
+exasperation. He had not been allowed to employ a water-purifier simply
+because the natives hadn’t thought it looked beautiful enough.</p>
+
+<p>He could hear Luders storming, in the seclusion of the inner office,
+“Damned pink, candy-box world! I’m beginning to feel like the little
+man on a wedding cake. For five credits, I’d....”</p>
+
+<p>What Luders would have done for five credits had been both obscene
+and explicit. But the incident had occurred during the early months,
+before one of the loveliest <i>fraislies</i> on Lri-gTu-riANa became
+the captain’s <i>loofa</i>. Luders had lost a lot of rough edges in
+the years since, and had become a great stickler for beauty, naked and
+unadorned.</p>
+
+<p>Ricardo was brought back to Earth with a thud. Carla was talking about
+plans for their wedding, talking joyously and excitedly about showers
+and luncheons and bridesmaids costumes. He heard himself say, “Can’t
+that wait till tomorrow, honey? I’m a little beat.”</p>
+
+<p>Instantly he wondered why he’d said it. For five years, he had lived
+with the constant, gloriously sustaining thought of marrying Carla the
+moment he got back to Earth. It had been like the proverbial bottle of
+whiskey at the end of the ditch. He had even feared that she might turn
+faithless, or be swept off her feet by another man. He had inwardly
+denied himself full, and traditionally customary satisfaction with his
+own <i>loofa</i>, preserving a tiny part of himself for her alone.</p>
+
+<p>They had thought him a cold fish on Lri-gTu-riANa, because of Carla.
+Yet here he was, putting off the very thing he’d held himself aloof
+for. Aloof-a <i>loofa</i>. As he undressed for the night, he wondered
+if space-cafard hadn’t got him. Certainly his behavior and feelings had
+not been wholly rational. Quite the reverse....</p>
+
+<p>When he awoke the next morning, the sun—Earth’s sun, <i>his</i>
+sun—was shining low and bright in the east. Birds—Earth-birds—were
+singing their morning songs and a faint, wonderful aroma of coffee
+came through the window from the kitchen wing of the house. All the
+confusion, all the uncertainty, all the self-doubt of the night before
+had been washed away. Ricardo stretched lazily, then rose and shuffled
+across the carpet to look out the window.</p>
+
+<p>He actually cried out with horror at what he saw.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed like nightmare, but—it wasn’t at all. The neat lawn and
+trim poplars were a rich, familiar pink. If it hadn’t been for the
+green of the hills west of the town, he’d have thought himself still on
+Lri-gTu-riANa. Dazed, he turned away from the shocking spectacle just
+as Carla, who had heard him cry out, came into the room.</p>
+
+<p>He said, “What’s happened to the trees, to the lawn?”</p>
+
+<p>She looked pleased, even a little smug. She said, “Isn’t it simply
+<i>crspaltish</i>, Ricci? We were the very first in town to use
+chlorodyll on our grass. You know, the stuff that makes the foliage
+pink on Liguria.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know,” Ricardo said grimly.</p>
+
+<p>“The best part of it is that it won’t turn green again,” she told him
+proudly. “And it doesn’t spread, so no one can use it who hasn’t paid
+for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Praise Allah for small blessings,” said Ricardo, appalled.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s that?” Carla wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, nothing,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.</p>
+
+<p>“Now almost everybody has chlorodyll grass,” the girl went on. “Out
+West, in farming districts, the big owners hire aircars to dust the
+prairies. In a few years, the whole world will be pink.”</p>
+
+<p>Ricardo thought despairingly of the green hills of Earth, for which he
+had longed for so many years. He thought of the dark tropical forests,
+of the mosses of the Arctic tundra, of the great grasslands of Africa,
+Asia and South America. All pink, passionate cake-frosting pink! Or
+soon to be. He closed his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Carla kept on talking. “And tonight, they’re having a ball in our honor
+at the country club. It’s going to be just like a <i>shlastric</i>
+festival and some of the girls say they’re going to be real
+<i>loofas</i>. It’s becoming quite the thing. But mother and I don’t
+think it’s exactly proper unless they’re married. I want you to see
+my costume, right after breakfast, to be sure it’s a hundred per cent
+authentic.”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>He opened his eyes. He said, “Beat it, honey, will you? I want to take
+a shower and get dressed.”</p>
+
+<p>He didn’t shower at once. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed,
+being careful to assume an angle that forbade his seeing the pink
+foliage outside. He thought of the young people of Earth, ardently
+pursuing Ligurian customs, turning the planet into an imitation of
+Lri-gTu-riANa. He thought of girls like Carla turning <i>loofa</i>. At
+least, on Lri-gTu-riANa, it was the real thing.</p>
+
+<p>He packed his bag and got dressed and walked through the French window,
+across the pink grass to the street. He hailed a passing vehicle and
+was given a lift to the skyport. There, he caught an aircab north to
+the spaceport.</p>
+
+<p>The interstellar official looked at him curiously as he reported. He
+was a man of native curiosity, which was why he held the job he did.
+It was a job where questions were important. He said, “You’re sure you
+want to go back for a ten-year hitch. Not that we aren’t glad to have
+an old Liguria-hand back. But you haven’t given yourself much time here
+on Earth. Your girl run out on you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” Ricardo didn’t want to waste time talking. He wouldn’t feel safe
+until he was aboard the big gleaming starship awaiting its payload at
+the end of the ramp outside. “Just say, I think I’m better suited to
+life on Lri-gTu-riANa after five years there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure you don’t want a little more time to adjust. It’s a big decision.
+And ten years is—”</p>
+
+<p>“Ten years is the longest hitch I can sign for,” said Ricardo. “I
+intend to stay on Lri-gTu-riANa for life.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we’re not going to stop you,” said the official. “Care for a
+spot of <i>praglian</i>? One for the road?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?” said Ricardo as the official bent to open a drawer. He was
+going to drink <i>praglian</i> from now on and like it. He clinked
+glasses with his host and downed the Ligurian brew. It was warm and
+sweet and not unpleasant on his tongue.</p>
+
+<p>“By the way,” said the official, nodding toward a large carton that
+stood beside Ricardo’s bags, “if it’s not hush-hush, would you mind
+telling me why you’re spending credits taking seeds to a fertile planet
+like Lri-gTu-riANa?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because,” said Ricardo, speaking slowly, “I’m going to turn the whole
+damned planet green.”</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="transnote">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_note">
+    Transcriber’s note:
+  </h2>
+
+<p>This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, May 1955 (Vol. 3, No.
+4.). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+copyright on this publication was renewed.</p>
+
+<p>Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version, but minor
+inconsistencies have been retained as printed.</p>
+</div>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78138 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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