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r'XJTATE!)
IUiJTK
#1(Chapters
1
&
2)
is
brought to you by that conspicuous
tcam
:'
:'
of Jay
L.
Zilber and Niggle Flynn.
,
Jay
is
currently working out of r'an Cen-
"
''
trcll
Station, 220 East 85th Street, Apartment
5R,
ilew York,
HY
10028, and
1
,..Fsh?s
o
remind his audience that while he has no telephone, this
is still
"
''
-W.'::.:Lnc
:Xi9
(Fiawoll). Miggle, who
is
now semi-officially in residence at
Is
I'
'
.:::
912,
600 73th Street
iJW,
Washington,
-DC
20052, and who claims a telephone
''
*.
?,*
:...
~,,r
f
(202)
676-2428, also reminds everyone that this
is
a
BIG
BRCrrHE4
Ii
::::."FF PUD:LIC.!TIOIJ.
The
ditto'd stuffo Jay's fault; all other ballast
L1
is
the
!~c?.r?.c?.iworkf the redoubtable PUIKY 2
1
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There are
times
one
creates
one's
own
mnster.
Or
digs one's own grave,
so
to s~eak.
Bites
off nore than one can chew.In fact, things can mutate right
be-
fore one's eyes if one isn't too careful.Well,gang, we've throtvn caution
to
the winds here.The story goes somethinglike this:In I4arch of 1977, Xike spent three days of hisspring
Lrcak
visiting Jay whenJay lived in Philadelnhis. for the semester.elike had been
a
member of
APA-5
for butthree months, and already was in desperate need of a quickie 'zine. Jay, too, had
a
'zine on his schedule,and,tihile sitting down to do a one-shot (a tradition sincespurned mightily by
Mr.
Flynn)the main problem was: how does one do
a
one-shot witha
little
bit of originality?What emerged
was
a
bizarre synthesis
of
the strangest nature.
It
was
a crossbetweenfaan fiction, convention reports, Mike's youthful memories, and an in-joke.
It
was lNTATED PA:FHER.The in-joke was the
title;
it
referred to Jay's mornmate'slittle puppy dog, China,
who
insisted upon looking like a mutated feline.The plotof thestory had
its
hasis in an eighth grade project Mike had once undertaken: afiction piece about his classmates. The
rest
fell into place.
INTATID
PmTEERwould be a fiction story of the
inembers
of APA-5 at a
San
Dicgo Conlic Convention,and their reactions to the murder of Harry Broertjes. In this story, however,
HCR
was a certifiable baddie
--
in fact, for all intents and purposes, he
was
Alan Light.
Ne
played around with
a
few lives, and wound up doing
a
two-shot that
was
the only'zine
FW'e
ever done in an apa to win first place in an egoboo poll.That behind, Jay and rliggle began
to
continue working together on a number ofprojects:
a
!CARATE
XID
pitch that didn't sell, a mystery story that didn't sell, andthe outlinefor the Legion Academy for
THE
1lANUA.L
(which
will
onc day
see
print.
..
at least
I'm
not as slow as Harry.
Yet.)
Cut to: March, 1978. Jay, this tine,
is
visting Higgle in t~lashington, DeeCee.lliggle hands Jay a yellow legalsheet with two wore6 Flynnscrawled on
it:
IlutatedKlanth.After five minutes of hysterical cackling, and without a word further said,
it
tias obviousthat the two were once more working on the same wavelength.
At
last
the idea for
PAhPTHIYR
had come where
it
belonged: 1PPTEIU;AC. The apa where the peopleknow each other well enough to understand all the nuances
and
in-jokes. The apawhich
we
felt most obligated to turn in a sterling performance to.The apa we called
home.
XPXI
WZ
+rlZ
$#Zff +dLb%Zdfib ZU# MZd fiZ%W% ff$Z&!
M$rkB7Y
 
MUTATED
KLAMTHCHAPTER
0k
Fan Ccntrnl Sttjtion. Kcn Gale stood outsido tho front'door
and'
watched
1
the sun
set
behind the New York skyline.
He
ahucklcd inwardly
aft
the
bicknrsma
gim.220
East 85th Street Apartment
5-R.
And how true
it
was
--
aggravatingly so at
times,
but somebody has to do the dirty work,
he
rationalized, lest fandom
fall
a~art
t
the
scams.
Ken skippcd up th~our flights of
stairs
with his usual multiple-step-at-a-time gusto.
As
he fiddled with the keys, he began humming a tunehk,ich an observer might havc described
as
sounding vaguely like "MyGericx~tion." The lock clicked open, and Ken locked
it
again behindhim. Zilb~?~'
as
gone. Probably
Out
on
he town- with
01'
whs-?
z-.Cla.r-
ni~);ig~,
en mused. "Which suits
me
just fine. Fan Central St~tic~hlls
I
rc,y
65,
but tonight
it's
just
me,
tho typer, Pete To~~nshendn
tbe
stcrco, and
a
quire of stcncils which
will
be
converted i:~to no.;hcrIlJfERLAC zinc by morning."
As
he slipped the appropriate rF2cfird
o:lt
o*
its
jacket and onto the turntable,
Ken
turned to the &atuette on
his
desk. "isn't that right, Corflu?"No reply.
fhe
purfuct guest, Kcn thought. He ma'y not always ac~eewith
me,
but he nevcr talks back either, unless
I
want him
to,
The
-
skinny, pastel white-ish statue occupied
a
place of honor
at
one
sorncrof the heavy oak desk.
It
tl
:d ',eon
a
gift from Erich Heincm5nil somemonths ago;
its
shadow against
;kc?
wal.:.
look~d xactly like the outlineof Ken's own awkward sketches
aF
b.is
upa
mascot, Corflu, Kents heartskipped
a
bent
as
the
first
guFt~r hcrds of
"I
Can't Explain'' driftedfrom the earphones. This put him in the perfect mood to finish themailing comment to Sherman Boyson which he'd started
a
few days ago,
i
before Julycon
interrupted
cveryttiing. Ha mentally discarded an entirerepertoire of "asshole one-liners" before settling on
a
suitable onefor the
MC.
As
he typed the
first
sentence, his heart skippcd anotherbeat. And mother, Ken became aware of
a
dull pain
at
the base of hishead; his breathing grew raspy, shallow,..
I
Ken
stopped typirtg.
He
rubbed tho back of
his
n=k.
The_
-&
Q-f.
the
last
few
days
must
be
catchi~qpith
me.
A
glass
of
water,
---
aybe..
.?
He
stood up and tried to focus on the glass he'd set atop the refriger-
1
ator, but there
were,
two glasses there now...or was
it
three? The
f
entire room seemed to havc been distorted by
a
fisheye lense.
I
How much sleep
DID
miss
this week? Ken started toward the kitchurl
---
nd stumbled over
a
pile of
g:eorl
crudshocts, banging his knee on thecoffeetable
as
he fell. Whc-l's h,pp&q
to
me7
Lc-l
can
1
eel
so
rotten when
I'm
listeni~g
&.
The
Who_?
Hc
winc~d
r.
pain.
9.3
he lay on tho floor, ~;~?c?singis injured
knc~,'
u
becan'e
'aware
of
I
,,.something. Another
prsscncr:
in the
xoom..
\rJhlr,b
~bctu1'11
have been
6:
I
-
mpossible since the door
u~s
otkcd and
tol:;d,
-~;yf.
s
that you:"No answer. Strains of "llappy Jack"
wekc
just.
!~dr-r:iy
ati(iib1c -Frr.m
Ail;
earphones which had falldn off and
lay
T._+
ks
ct9e.1- cide of
&+e
rocr.
But thcrc was another sound naw=. .no.
ro'i
a
snltnd,
.&
A
,,,,
,r~r~;seiic;?,
;:n7&
head
was
pounding now, he could barely ~z.:ch
hi-s
breath,
He
stood up
I
I
shakily and hobbled to the covch, bJhtr2
was.
tha-:; sound ccwing frou'?
I
From behind.
..
He whirled ~iroc~nd,
,lir1!~;5
thr? air
:st;emGrl
to't..2vc thezonsistancy of jello now, und rkechtid ->ut bii~dlyowards
hkct
heexpected would
be
another perscn standing thcre, But there
was
nothing
,
of 00

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