THE STORY OF JOE WHO DIDN'T KNOW

by

HECK

Joe paced restlessly up and down betweeen the towering marble pillars. The sweet, soft song that drifted upon the breeze only served to irritate him more. Downstairs there was a party going on. There was always a party going on downstairs. He walke d over to the edge and looked down. Below he could see the half-dressed girls and the laughing imps ... he felt his nails digging into the palms of his hands. From below came the aroma of roasting meat and the gay laughter of the demons. He could hear bits of a melody that they were singing ... he could not distinguish the words but, from the laughter they provoked, he could guess at them. Then he saw IT, the glorious fountain that poured forth every conceivable alcoholic concoction (and a few that we ren't conceivable).

Joe tried to remember when he had last had a good drink ... when he had last held a girl in his arms ... He cursed the name of every beast known to fan.

The Old Man put down his golden harp and caught up his purple robe with pale, gnarled fingers. Slowly he moved down the great corridor toward Joe. He stroked his flowing white beard and asked, "Are you troubled, My Son?"

"Yeah," Joe replied, "I'm sick and tired of this place ... it's pure HELL!"

"No," The Old Man gasped, "This is Heaven!"

Joe shouted hysterically, "Why did I have to paint my soul purple and come to this place? Why didn't I just tear it out and go with those damned creatures down there?" He pointed toward the demons, then with a mad laugh, he flung himself ov er the brink.

Only the purple mist that was his soul remained above to testify that Joe had ever been there. The Old Man reached out to gather up the poor deserted essence and store it away with all the others of its kind that had been thrown off by their owners bu t the mist shrunk back with a shout of "Oh, no! I think this place is Hell too!" it leaped after Joe.

The Old Man looked over the edge after it. This was the first time that he had ever beheld the festivities below. He stared for a moment, then cried, "Wait for me!" and jumped.

FINIS

by Hector Torrie
and QAZ

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

AN EXCERPT FROM THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE GREAT 'THINKER LEE HO
dedicated to the cost of mimeo stencils ...

"What good is hapiness if you
can't buy money with it ..."

Data entry by Judy Bemis

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