Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 46 — page 91: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION happened to be in the way. I ducked instinctively, but it was through me before I was half way down, and by the time I’d turned round the fat sparrow was onto it, savaging the life out of it. I watched him for a few seconds, then a horrible thought crept up on me. Ifpeoplecould walk through me and sling crusts through me, then by the same token I couldn’t pick any material thing up. Food is a material thing, so what does that make me? The obvious answer is hungry, and I felt the first faint stirrings deep in my stomach that always come when I think of food. I walked over to the sparrow to see if I could swipe his elevenses—not to eat them of course, but to see if my theory held water. It might have held water, but it certainly couldn’t hold bread. My fingers just went through that crust as though it were smoke, and the faint stirrings in my stomach grew into a fully-fledged, hundred per cent. starvation feeling. Black despair crept up, and gave me a hearty smack on the back. ““Never mind, Tosh!” he roared. “Smashing death, starvation. All you’ve got to 90 do is sit and think of sausages and chips, steak and kidney pudding, jam roly-poly and custard, cups of tea...!” I uttered a hollow laugh and wandered along the side pas- sage of the Doc’s house, to- wards the front gate. I had lost all interest in women, scientists and laboratories. All I wanted was food. As I went I instinctively reached: for a cigarette and, rather to my surprise, they were in my pocket as usual, complete with lighter. I lit up, half expecting the whole place to go sky-high as I did so, but I was spared that, at least. I stood by the Doc’s front gate enjoying the solace of Lady Nicotine. Wonderful what a cigarette will do to you, isn’t it? I began to feel almost human again, and started churning over a few facts in what in my lighter moments I call my brain. Firstly: my watch was still ticking, and [I could still think dirty thoughts (I tried one to see): so I wasn’t dead. In addition, the only angel I’d seen to date was Browneyes, and as she wore neither wings nor a shiny nightdress, she - wasn’t one of the regular ones. Secondly: everything that was with me on that fatal COMIC SOOKS.COm