Ottmar Balleau x 2 (Get it?)
Times Two! (Hah, hah!)
P.S. Somebody said you drink, Red. IS THIS TRUE?
* * * *
March 27, 1960
Ft. Lauderdale,
Fla. 1:00 A.M.
Hi Red:
I got a great idea you can use on your (squeak, squeak) show. How’s this? When the camera comes on, you just look out at everybody, raise your arm and say: Heil Hitler! (Hah, Hah!) How about that? Scare every (squeak) body. (Hah, Hah.) Of course you’d have to say, “I really love Jesus.” So nobody will be mad. You can have that joke, I’ll (squeak squeak) just give it to you. It’s worth a hundred to me! You can have it (squeak) free.
I’ve got a pound of jokes wrapped up and ready to send to you. Don’t worry about the cost. I pay the (squeak) postage. I figure once you read them, I’ll never have to worry about (squeak, squeak) postage again. (Hah, hah!) I’ll write them. You crack them. (Hah, hah!)
I’ve got to go now, there’s a drunken bum that wants to be let out of the world. I’m the only (squeak, squeak) that will do it. Saint Peter get ready to let one in. Saint (Squeak) Balleau x 2 is gonna let one out.
Your new writer,
$t. Balleau x 2
P.$. I can move to (Squeak Squeak) Hollywood if it’s nece$$ary and no problem. I don’t have any family.
P.P.$. No Strings to tie. Just blades to buy. (Hah! Hah!)
P.P.P.$. Please answer my letters. $o I know you get them!
* * * *
April 1, 1960
Ft. Lauderdale,
Fla. 1:00 A.M.
Dead Red: (Hah, Hah!)
I hate you, Red! (Squeak.) Soon to be dead (squeak, squeak) Red. I didn’t watch you on (squeak) the television tonight! I’m never going to (squeak squeak) watch you again!
(Hah, hah, hah!) I guess I scared you. I wouldn’t stop watching you. It was all just an April Fool Joke. I’ll JUST KILL YOU. (Joke again! Hah, Hah!)
Red, I hate to say this, but I think there are communists around you. I don’t (squeak) think you’re getting my letters. If not, (squeak, squeak) you’d better answer my letters. You’ll be (squeak) sorry if you don’t. I’d hate to kill you. (Hah, hah!) Another April Fool’s Joke.
ADOLF HITLER
KILL KILL KILL
* * *
All Bad
GOD
SWEET JESUS
* * *
All Good
(Hah, Hah!) For your own sake, answer my letters. (Squeak, squeak.) Just another April Fool’s Joke. Here’s another to use on your show. Use it so I’ll know you read my letters! NO TRESPASSING, NO SOLICITORS, PEDDLERS, OR AGENTS ALLOWED: FORGIVE US OUR SOLICITORS. (Hah, Hah, Hah!!!)
Solicitor Balleau x 2
P.S. I don’t like to threaten you, Red. You’re the only kindness left in this dirty world.
* * * *
Apr. 8, 1960
Ft. Lauderdale,
Fla. 12:00 P.M.
Squeak:
I’m very (squeak) sad. Three weeks have passed and still no (squeak, squeak) letter from you. I’ve sent you five pounds of (squeak) jokes, and you haven’t answered. I think you used some of them on the T.V. already. I don’t think you’d betray (squeak) me. I’d hate to think that, Red. There must be communists between us. Have you investigated your secretary lately? Since you’re the only friend I have, Red, I know you’d answer my (squeak squeak) letters. (Unless you drink—Hah! Hah!)
I know you won’t laugh at me, like everybody else does. They call me Crazy Ott. You wouldn’t do that, would you, Red? I try to (squeak, squeak) scare them so they won’t laugh at me. When I tell them how many old men I’ve killed they just laugh at me anyway. They aren’t afraid at all because they won’t believe me. But it’s the truth. You believe me. Don’t you Red? I have killed men. Maybe even ten. Oh, don’t worry, they weren’t any good. Just dirty old men who drank a lot and nobody cares about. Most of the time they want to die anyway. Just drunks. They haven’t done anything but drink and make broken homes. No good. I wouldn’t kill a good person. Only Hitler kills good people. It’s not hard to kill them, Red. It doesn’t cost any more than a clean pack of razor blades. I walk up and down the alleys by the waterfront. I find most of them down there. I sit with them while they drink. Sometimes I have to buy them the liquor if they don’t have enough. I have to get them good and drunk. When they pass out: I operate.
It isn’t hard, Red. Sometimes the light is bad in an alley. You can hardly see in a packing crate. But I can do it by touch. They don’t even feel it most of the time. I just slice open the vein and wait until all the blood runs out. They go to justice quiet as you please. One time one of them woke up. He thought it was a good joke. He even held back his sleeve while I worked. He passed on happy; he died laughing. It’s really a kindness. I’ve been entrusted to rid the world of drunks. When it’s all over, I put the razor blade in their hand and the police think it’s a suicide. If they think about it at all. Nobody likes old drunks. They’re no good anyway. (DRUNK DRIVERS GO TO JAIL! HAH! HAH!) Drink is Evil. I let them out of the world. See how easy? That’s why you have to put me on your program. The camera opens up and there I am. For no money down, I tell the world how easy it is to rid the world of drunks. AND WHAT A BLESSING. You believe I killed these men, don’t you, Red? You won’t laugh at me, will you?
I hope you (squeak) write real soon, Red. I hate to lose you as a friend. If they’re holding you against your (squeak, squeak) will, say so on the television so I’ll know.
Ottmar Balleau x 2
P.S. For the closest shave of your (squeak) life, use hollow ground blades and Ott Balleau. (Hah, hah I)
P.P.S. Pretty sharp wit! (Hah, hah!)
* * * *
April 14, 1960
Ft. Lauderdale,
Fla. 3:30 P.M.
Red:
No letter from (squeak) you again today. What’s the matter? I think I’ll have to come to (squeak, squeak) Hollywood. IF I DON’T HEAR SOMETHING SOON. SORRY to send just a card. JUST A CARD FROM A CARD TO A CARD1 (Hah, hah!) Get it? You can have that one if you want.
Your friend True Blue,
Ottmar Balleau x 2
* * * *
April 25, 1960
Ft. Lauderdale,
Fla. 9:00 A.M.
Dear Red:
I’m on my way to (squeak, squeak) Hollywood. I have heard bad things about you, Red. I don’t believe them. I have to see for my (squeak) self. Besides, communists are after me! I went to my old place to pick up my mail and Evil old Mr. Collins wanted to know why the F.B.I, was asking questions about (squeak, squeak) me. They don’t FOOL me. Those aren’t the F.B.I., J. EDGAR HOOVER wasn’t with them, those were the communists. BUT THEY DIDNT CATCH ME. (Hah, hah!) Don’t worry, Red. As the MASTER said: I’ll be with you again in Hollywood. (Hah, hah!) I’m going to (squeak) start hitchhiking tonight.
Ott. Balleau x 2
* * * *
May 10, 1960
New Orleans,
La. 1:00
Red:
Look. A new color picture of the (squeak, squeak) Mardi Gras on this card. It is taking longer to get to Hollywood than I thought. I don’t have any trouble getting rides, but I keep having to take time out for my work.
Lucky (squeak) I carry all my money in my money belt I could not risk going back to my old house. I had to leave two good pounds of jokes. (I hate to dig up old material anyway. Hah! Hah!)
Dreams come true with,
Ottmar Balleau x 2
P.S. I was able to help three old drunks since I left Ft. Lauderdale. One of them right in the Harbor Lights Rescue Mission Dormitory.
O.B. x 2
* * * *
May 30, 1960
Albuquerque,
N. Mex. 3:30 P.M.
YOUNG MEN’S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION
Albuquerque Branch
Red:
I’m sorry to have to (squeak, squeak) write about this, but I guess there’s no way out of
it. People said you drink a lot, but I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe you would do (squeak) such a thing, but I saw that magazine with the article on you: RED: A CLOWN ON THE TOWN— BUT HOW ABOUT THE MORNING AFTER. I couldn’t (squeak) believe it, but there it was right between: WHY HE-MEN MOVIE STARS DRESS UP IN WOMEN’S CLOTHES and THE NEW MIRACLE DRUGS ARE ROBBING YOUR SEX POTENCY. I used to think everybody lied when they said you were nothing but a drunk. But now I see it in the magazines.
It would explain a lot of things.
Only a drunk would have set the communists after me in Ft. Lauderdale. If your secretary isn’t a (squeak) communist.
Only a drunk would use my best jokes on the television and not pay me for them. Oh, I know they’re my jokes (squeak, squeak), Red. I knew you were using them all along. But I didn’t say anything. You change them a little. But they’re STILL MY JOKES! Only a drunk would do that, Red. Drunks aren’t funny.
(JOIN THE FIGHT AGAINST DRUNKS!!!!!!!)
I’ll just have to wait until I see you for myself. I’ll decide then.
Ottmar Balleau x 2
P.S. There’s many a slip twixt the cup and the lip, but never between a Balleau blade and the wrist.
O.B. x 2
* * * *
Jun. 30, 1960
Hollywood,
Calif. 3:00 P.M.
Red:
Well, I finally made it out here to (squeak, squeak) Hollywood. I seen all the shows: QUEEN FOR A DAY, PEOPLE ARE FUNNY, ANYONE CAN PLAY. All the ones I enjoyed so much back home. Of course I (squeak) saw your show. You looked all right up on stage. I wanted to rush right up in front of the cameras and tell the whole world: i.e., Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy, the Nolans, Marge and Jerry at their Bar & Grill, Billy Graham: EVERYBODY! The usher wouldn’t let me. I had to wait for you behind the studio. You didn’t see me, (Squeak, squeak). But I could tell you had been drinking. I’ve talked to a lot of people, Red. They say you (squeak) drink quite a lot. I guess you know what that means. I have to make sure though. When I make sure, I’ll have to get you alone some place. It will be hard. But I’ll work it out.
Ottmar Balleau x 2
P.S. Stop using my jokes on the television.
P.P.S. Please have faith in my ability to work things out You won’t have to suffer with drink much longer.
P.P.P.S. Sleeping in Griffith Park is uncomfortable.
* * * *
Jul. 2, 1960
Hollywood,
Calif. 1:00 A.M.
Drunk:
I helped your communists comb Griffith Park last night They were looking for me. I joined the long line of Boy Scouts, Deputy Sheriffs and others. But we couldn’t find me. I guess it was me you sent them after, from what they said. Did you (squeak) tell them where I was? That was a terrible thing to do. Please don’t fight me. I want to help you. I must be more careful or the communists will get me.
I saw you falling-down-drunk the other night. But I couldn’t get to you. I can tell you need me in the worst way. I will save you. Just as I’ve saved others. WRITE FOR REFERENCES! (Hah, Hah!)
I have your actions mapped out. I know where you live, when you go to work, and the bars where you drink. You even shook my hand and (squeak, squeak) offered me a drink. That’s a funny: you offered me a drink. (Hah, Hah.) The bartender says you drink more than you used to. Careful, Red: DRINK WILL BE THE DEATH OF YOU! (Hah! Hah!)
Ottmar Balleau x 2
* * * *
July 10, 1960
Hollywood,
Calif. 1:00 A.M.
Red:
Guess who? (Squeak, squeak.)
x 2
* * * *
Jul. 21, 1960
Hollywood,
Calif. 12:30 P.M.
RED:
Just to let you know. I still got my eye on you.
Mister Ottmar Balleau
(Times Two)
* * * *
Aug. 3, 1960
Hollywood,
Calif. 3:30 P.M.
Dear Red:
This is the last (squeak) letter I will ever write to you. I can’t write any more. If I write any more, I’ll give my (squeak) self away. I KNOW ME. I talk too much. At last I’m in a position to carry on my work for you and I can’t risk giving myself away.
Doesn’t this make you (HAPPY?) It has been hard on you. You (squeak, squeak) drink so much now. Poor old man! Your hands shake all the time. It even shows up on the T.V, Hang on, old man: soon it will be over with. OTTMAR BALLEAU IS ON HIS WAY TO HELPING YOU.
Don’t be afraid. It won’t hurt
Please stop trying to get away from me. You hired all those people to protect you from your fate. But as soon as you get a bottle, you slip away to drink by yourself. Not smart. It is out of my hands now. You’re doing it all by yourself (squeak) self. I can only promise it won’t hurt. You won’t feel a thing.
I suppose you’re wondering just who is Ottmar Balleau? I’ll tell you when you’ve drunk until your unconscious, and you always do. I’ll straighten you out peaceful and then do my little work. Usually I sing a little hymn and say a few words for the deceased, it helps to pass the time while I’m waiting for them to drain into the great beyond. I’ll slap you until I’m sure you’re awake, then I’ll whisper in your ear, before it’s too late:
“This is your old friend,
Ottmar Balleau x 2”
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* * * *
THE DANDELION GIRL
by Robert F. Young
Devil and ghost, witchdoctor and madman, seer and space-mate: but one kind of otherness has not yet appeared.
Space travel and shape-changing, telepathy and levitation, astronomy, anthropology, marvelous inventions and mental marvels: there is still one of science fiction’s favorite themes that has not been used.
Sex and psychosis, murder and avarice, friendship, revenge, reform, conquest, hospitality: one major emotion has not been touched.
This is a love story, about time travel.
* * * *
The girl on the hill made Mark think of Edna St. Vincent Millay. Perhaps it was because of the way she was standing there in the afternoon sun, her dandelion-hued hair dancing in the wind; perhaps it was because of the way her old-fashioned white dress was swirling around her long and slender legs. In any event, he got the definite impression that she had somehow stepped out of the past and into the present; and that was odd, because as things turned out, it wasn’t the past she had stepped out of, but the future.
He paused some distance behind her, breathing hard from the climb. She had not seen him yet, and he wondered how he could apprise her of his presence without alarming her. While he was trying to make up his mind, he took out his pipe and filled and lighted it, cupping his hands over the bowl and puffing till the tobacco came to glowing life. When he looked at her again, she had turned around and was regarding him curiously.
He walked toward her slowly, keenly aware of the nearness of the sky, enjoying the feel of the wind against his face. He should go hiking more often, he told himself. He had been tramping through woods when he came to the hill, and now the woods lay behind and far below him, burning gently with the first pale fires of fall, and beyond the woods lay the little lake with its complement of cabin and fishing pier. When his wife had been unexpectedly summoned for jury duty, he had been forced to spend alone the two weeks he had saved out of his summer vacation and he had been leading a lonely existence, fishing off the pier by day and reading the cool evenings away before the big fireplace in the raftered living room; and after two days the routine had caught up to him, and he had taken off into the woods without purpose or direction and finally he had come to the hill and had climbed it and seen the girl.
Her eyes were blue, he saw when he came up to her—as blue as the sky that framed her slender silhouette. Her face was oval and young and soft and sweet. It evoked a déjà vu so poignant that he had to resist an impulse to reach out and touch her wind-kissed cheek; and even though his hand did not l
eave his side, he felt his fingertips tingle.
Why, I’m forty-four, he thought wonderingly, and she’s hardly more than twenty. What in heaven’s name has come over me? “Are you enjoying the view?” he asked aloud.
“Oh, yes,” she said and turned and swept her arm in an enthusiastic semicircle. “Isn’t it simply marvelous!”
He followed her gaze. “Yes,” he said, “it is.” Below them the woods began again, then spread out over the lowlands in warm September colors, embracing a small hamlet several miles away, finally bowing out before the first outposts of the suburban frontier. In the far distance, haze softened the serrated silhouette of Cove City, lending it the aspect of a sprawling medieval castle, making it less of a reality than a dream. “Are you from the city too?” he asked.
The Year's Best Science Fiction & Fantasy 7 - [Anthology] Page 15