The outer door slammed shut on the departing echo of his words. "Well, I'll be hung for an ugly son!" he muttered to himself. "Nobody makes sense around this place, any more."
He shrugged half to himself and then began to type out the rest of the report.
"I don't get it," he mumbled to himself. "I just don't get it at all. There's no logic in it."
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe September 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. Although polaroid appears as originally printed, given the lack of a capital letter, it may be a printer's error for polarized.