COME INTO MY PARLOR
BY CHARLES E. FRITCH
ILLUSTRATED BY ORBAN
Sober or drunk, Johnny was seeing things. Like
spider webs in the night sky. But as a newspaper
reporter, Bennet had the job of keeping facts and
fancies separate. He was good at that—too good!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Science Fiction Adventures Magazine, February 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I found Johnny a few blocks from our hotel in a little bar that was nearly deserted. He was sitting alone at a table in a dark corner, staring morosely at nothing in particular, his hand limp around an almost-empty glass. He seemed perfectly sober, though his eyes stared glassily ahead.
I sat down beside him. "What do you say we go back to the hotel, Johnny? Tomorrow's another slave day."
His eyes shifted to me and then back to nothing. I wondered if he had actually seen me.
"We can talk about it over some coffee and a bit to eat."