A BAD DAY FOR VERMIN
BY KEITH LAUMER
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction February 1964.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
They came In friendship and love.
They couldn't help the way they looked!
Judge Carter Gates of the Third Circuit Court finished his chicken salad on whole wheat, thoughtfully crumpled the waxed paper bag and turned to drop it in the waste basket behind his chair—and sat transfixed.
Through his second-floor office window, he saw a forty-foot flower-petal shape of pale turquoise settling gently between the well-tended petunia beds on the courthouse lawn. On the upper, or stem end of the vessel, a translucent pink panel popped up and a slender, graceful form not unlike a large violet caterpillar undulated into view.
Judge Gates whirled to the telephone. Half an hour later, he put it to the officials gathered with him in a tight group on the lawn.