Mr. Biggs goes to town

by Nelson S. Bond

MR. BIGGS GOES TO TOWN

By NELSON S. BOND

When Lancelot Biggs started in
the soap-making business on this
asteroid, he got strange results!

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Amazing Stories October 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

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One thing is certain. When bigger and better shirts are made, the officials of the Corporation which underpays us will stuff 'em.

We were squatting in a cradle on Earth, waiting for flight orders, when the control turret door swung open and in marched two owl-eyed zombies dressed in frowns and white mess jackets. One of these looked at us, then at a slip of paper. He said, "Donovan, Herbert J.?"

"Present," I said, "but not accountable for. Otherwise known as 'Sparks.' What's the matter, Satyr? Who found out what about me?"

"Come," ordered the stranger curtly, "with me!" And he jerked a thumb in the general direction of the doorway.

Cap Hanson—he's the skipper of our space-shuttling freighter, the Saturn—bridled like a mick at an Orangeman's Ball. If there's one thing he cannot tolerate, it is hearing anyone else issue orders on his bridge. His brows congealed into fur-line cumulus clouds.