Read Online Image of the Beast and Blown by Philip José Farmer - Free Book Online
Authors: Philip José Farmer
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chances ..."
His voice died. He and Jeremiah stood on the curb of
the north side of Burton Way and waited. The cars were
like elephants in the grayness, gray elephants with trunks to
tails, huge eyes glowing in the gloom. The lanes here were
one-way for westward traffic, but all traffic was moving
eastward.
There was only one thing to do if they wished to cross
today. Childe stepped out into the traffic. The cars were
going so slowly that it was easy to climb up on the hood of
the nearest and jump over onto the next hood and onto
a third and then a fourth and onto the grass of the divider.
Startled and outraged drivers and passengers cursed and
howled at them, but Jeremiah only laughed and Childe
jeered at them. They crossed the divider and jumped from
hood to hood again until they got to the other side. They
walked down Willaman, and every house was unlit. At
Wilshire and Willaman, the street lights were operating,
but the drivers were paying no attention to them. All were
going eastward on both sides of Wilshire.
The traffic was a little faster here but not too fast. Childe
and Jeremiah got over, although Jeremiah slipped once
and fell on top of a hood.
"Middle of this block," Jeremiah said.
The houses and apartments were middle middle-class.
The homes were the usual California-Spanish bungalows;
the apartment buildings were four or five story boxes with
some attempts at decoration and terracing outside. There
were lights in a few windows but the house before which
Jeremiah stopped was dark.
"Must not be home," Childe said.
"Doesn't mean a thing. His windows are always dark.
Once you get inside, you'll see why. He may not be home
just now; he might've gone to the store or the gas station;
they're supposed to be open, at least the governor said
they would. Let's see."
They crossed the yard. The front window looked boarded
up. At least, something dark and woody looking covered it
on the inside. Closer, he saw that the man-sized figure,
which had stood so silently and which he had thought was
an iron statute, was a wooden and painted cutout of God-
zilla.
They went around the side of the house to the drive-
way. There was a large red sign with glaring yellow letters:
MISTER HORROR IS ALIVE AND WELL IN HERE.
Beyond was a sort of courtyard with a tree which bent
at forty-five degrees and the top of which covered the porch
roof and part of the house roof like a great greenish hand.
The tree trunk was so gray and twisted and knobbed that
Childe thought for a moment that it was artificial. It looked
as if it had been designed and built as background to a
horror movie.
There were many signs on the door and the walls beside
the door, some of them "cute" and others "in" jokes. There
were also masks of Frankenstein, Dracula, and the Wolf-
Man nailed against the walls. And several NO SMOKING
ABSOLUTELY signs. Another forbade any alcoholic bev-
erages to be brought in.
Jeremiah pressed the button, which was the nose of a
gargoyle face painted around it. A loud clanging noise
as of large bells came from within and then several
bars of organ music: Gloomy Sunday.
There was no other response. Jeremiah waited a mo-
ment and then rang the bell again. More bells and organ
music. But no one at the door.
Jeremiah beat on the door and shouted, "Open up,
Woolie! I know you're in there! It's OK! It's me, Hamlet
Jeremiah, one of your greatest fans!"
The little peep-window slid back and light rayed out.
The light was cut off, came back, was cut off again as
the peep-window swung shut. The door opened with a
screeching of rusty hinges. A few seconds later, Childe
understood that the noise was a recording.
"Welcome," a soft baritone said. Jeremiah tapped
Childe's shoulder to indicate he should precede him.
They walked in, and the man shut the door, rammed
home three large bolts, and hooked two chains.
The room was too confusing for Childe to take it in
all at once. He concentrated on the man, whom Jere-
miah introduced as Woolston Q.
His voice died. He and Jeremiah stood on the curb of
the north side of Burton Way and waited. The cars were
like elephants in the grayness, gray elephants with trunks to
tails, huge eyes glowing in the gloom. The lanes here were
one-way for westward traffic, but all traffic was moving
eastward.
There was only one thing to do if they wished to cross
today. Childe stepped out into the traffic. The cars were
going so slowly that it was easy to climb up on the hood of
the nearest and jump over onto the next hood and onto
a third and then a fourth and onto the grass of the divider.
Startled and outraged drivers and passengers cursed and
howled at them, but Jeremiah only laughed and Childe
jeered at them. They crossed the divider and jumped from
hood to hood again until they got to the other side. They
walked down Willaman, and every house was unlit. At
Wilshire and Willaman, the street lights were operating,
but the drivers were paying no attention to them. All were
going eastward on both sides of Wilshire.
The traffic was a little faster here but not too fast. Childe
and Jeremiah got over, although Jeremiah slipped once
and fell on top of a hood.
"Middle of this block," Jeremiah said.
The houses and apartments were middle middle-class.
The homes were the usual California-Spanish bungalows;
the apartment buildings were four or five story boxes with
some attempts at decoration and terracing outside. There
were lights in a few windows but the house before which
Jeremiah stopped was dark.
"Must not be home," Childe said.
"Doesn't mean a thing. His windows are always dark.
Once you get inside, you'll see why. He may not be home
just now; he might've gone to the store or the gas station;
they're supposed to be open, at least the governor said
they would. Let's see."
They crossed the yard. The front window looked boarded
up. At least, something dark and woody looking covered it
on the inside. Closer, he saw that the man-sized figure,
which had stood so silently and which he had thought was
an iron statute, was a wooden and painted cutout of God-
zilla.
They went around the side of the house to the drive-
way. There was a large red sign with glaring yellow letters:
MISTER HORROR IS ALIVE AND WELL IN HERE.
Beyond was a sort of courtyard with a tree which bent
at forty-five degrees and the top of which covered the porch
roof and part of the house roof like a great greenish hand.
The tree trunk was so gray and twisted and knobbed that
Childe thought for a moment that it was artificial. It looked
as if it had been designed and built as background to a
horror movie.
There were many signs on the door and the walls beside
the door, some of them "cute" and others "in" jokes. There
were also masks of Frankenstein, Dracula, and the Wolf-
Man nailed against the walls. And several NO SMOKING
ABSOLUTELY signs. Another forbade any alcoholic bev-
erages to be brought in.
Jeremiah pressed the button, which was the nose of a
gargoyle face painted around it. A loud clanging noise
as of large bells came from within and then several
bars of organ music: Gloomy Sunday.
There was no other response. Jeremiah waited a mo-
ment and then rang the bell again. More bells and organ
music. But no one at the door.
Jeremiah beat on the door and shouted, "Open up,
Woolie! I know you're in there! It's OK! It's me, Hamlet
Jeremiah, one of your greatest fans!"
The little peep-window slid back and light rayed out.
The light was cut off, came back, was cut off again as
the peep-window swung shut. The door opened with a
screeching of rusty hinges. A few seconds later, Childe
understood that the noise was a recording.
"Welcome," a soft baritone said. Jeremiah tapped
Childe's shoulder to indicate he should precede him.
They walked in, and the man shut the door, rammed
home three large bolts, and hooked two chains.
The room was too confusing for Childe to take it in
all at once. He concentrated on the man, whom Jere-
miah introduced as Woolston Q.
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