_Gigantic webs of doom--miles
in extent, hundreds of feet deep._
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Weird Tales January 1941.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I remember the preacher saying, "I now pronounce you man and wife--,"
and I remember the sweet smile on Lorraine Bowman's face and the dazed
smirk on Johnny Larkin's, and the clank of sabers as we walked up the
aisle through an arch of gleaming steel. I remember asking to kiss the
bride. Then I remember something about a banquet, with somebody passing
out drinks, and I remember demanding to kiss the bride again.
Then there was another bottle or three, and it must have been powerful
juice because I remember Johnny Larkin frowning when I insisted
on kissing the bride. Then I felt sorry for myself and started to
cry, and Captain Bowman roared something about, "Take that boiled
son-of-a-spacehawk home and pour him into bed," and I looked around,
wondering who was tanked, and by golly, they all were but me! Which I
tried to explain, standing on a table so I could get their attention,
but somebody pulled the table out from under me.
And that's all I remember until I woke up the next morning with my
mouth tasting like the inside of a birdcage, and Lt. Sam Evans, Second
Mate of the _Pegasus_, was standing at my bedside grinning at me.
Sunbeams were bouncing up and down on my counterpane like elephants. I
moaned and said, "Get 'em out of here, Sam!"