This is the ultimate bewildering story. Bewildering, you ask? Why, yes. Of course it is bewildering. How could you even question that?
To start off, I will recount the events that happened recently at the editorial offices of Bewildering Stories. I, as you know, am Frogz Balonium, the assistant editor. Formerly one of the two assistant editors, but apparently the other one, Hakuna Matata, has been assigned the position of Art Director, replacing Ima Stupide. Perhaps that is an error on the Bewildering Stories information page. I do not know.
Nevertheless, I must continue with my tale, for it is a tale that must be told, that must reach the ears and eyes and all sorts of other possible receptors of whoever may chance upon this little webzine. It happened last Thursday, when Jerry, Don, and the Spud were discussing the upcoming anniversary issue, #52....
“So we currently have planned for the issue my new sonnet, ‘Carrier,’” Spud said. “I seem to be writing exactly one sonnet every year, since 2000. This should be my fourth. The other three, as you know, were published in issue #3 of BWS last year. Now, what else do we have? Ah, yes. Kali Ferngrove’s new novella, ‘A Random Revival’ ...”
“Spud...” Jerry said. “We need to talk... Seriously (or semi-seriously) back in the early days of BWS when we took anything and everything, a million-word one-sentence novel from a computer was fun, as was the novelette. But we’re a bit more edged into what passes for a real magazine, and Kali is kind of, as it were, a one-trick pony. Would it be possible to perhaps put Kali’s latest production out as a contest and say, ‘Turn this into a real story!’ or something like that? We don’t want to hurt your feelings, because you are important to us. We’d like to do something with Kali, but as it sits, it’s just bibbling.”
A pause.
“What do you think, Don?” A glance around. “Don?”
Don W., it seems, had disappeared.
It should be noted that at this moment, I happened to enter the room. It should also be noted that the room in question does not in fact exist, for the members of the Editorial Triumvirate have never met in person, though perhaps this might be considered a virtual chat room of the type frequently visited by avid Netizens. Either way, this adds to the bewilderment, especially when I happened to say...
Hmm... it seems that I have forgotten what I said. Nevertheless, regardless of the exact contents of my brief monologue, all eyes (two of Jerry’s and ... uh ... I forget, how many eyes does a potato have?) turned and faced me.
“Frogz!” Spud exclaimed. “But ... how ...”
“How what?” I said, not sure why everyone was surprised.
“You don’t exist! You’re an imaginary member of the staff!”
“Am I? Ah, yes, I believe I am.”
“Then that means you don’t exist!”
“Hmm... that’s odd. I could have affirmed just a picosecond ago that I did.”
“But ... but ...”
“Eh, I’m bewildered enough as it is,” Jerry said. “We don’t need to be befuddled more than need be. I say we welcome Frogz to the meeting and continue with the discussion ... and find Don, wherever he is ... and ... yeah ...”
“And this is precisely the reason why I have appeared today,” I said. “I wish indeed to discuss this matter of utmost importance. The first anniversary issue of the prestigious, literate, cultured, esoteric periodical publication Bewildering Stories is a matter to celebrate. What a spifftastically big event! And thank you for inviting me. I don’t mind if I come in myself ...”
“Where’s Don?” Spud said.
“I haven’t a clue! How surprising is it indeed that you ask!”
A shrug.
“OK ... so ... what’s next on the agenda?” Jerry said.
“Why, I have come here to propose that one of my own literary works be published in this fine issue! I am, after all, the inimitable Frogz Balonium, and I have served diligently as the assistant editor for a year now. In fact, I contributed a story myself last year. &“The Aliens Don’t Exist,” I believe it was called. Yes, that was it, that very title.”
Silence.
“I can read your mind, Spud! I know of the very thing on which you are currently ruminating! The aliens don’t exist, but do you? And I know you want me to tell you everything. You want to know why I am here, me, Frogz Balonium, of all people! How absurd! How preposterous.”
“Uh ... yeah ... what is going on?” Spud said.
“And where’s Don?” Jerry said.
“You rhyme!” I said. “How quaint.”
Silence.
“But I’m afraid I cannot answer your questions. I will leave you with this new story of mine, ‘The Ultimate Bewildering Story,’ and I request that you determine what is the best course of action concerning its fate. Shall it suffer its demise within the electronic slush pile, or shall it find fame and stardom within the pages of the anniversary issue of Bewildering Stories? Your choice.”
“But where’s Don?” Jerry said.
“I haven’t a clue. Sorry.”
“OK...”
“I must leave you now. Just remember that I do exist, and remember my divine nomenclature, Frogz Balonium. Please, it would warm my heart so if you could inscribe those heavenly letters across the top of your home page ... in elegant, flowing script preferably, but any font will do. Toodles.”
And with that, I was off.
Copyright © 2003 by Frogz Balonium
Two members of Bewildering Stories, one imaginary and one real, have heard their names mentioned and queries expressed as to their whereabouts. They have replied with remarkable promptness:
|
Ima Stupide’s married Frogz; sh’ain’t split. She’s smarter than dogs, and no twit. Hakuna Matata Will be one hot potata, And Balonium appreciates her wit. |
Formatter Don hears his name from afar. Does his fame come from some distant star? Or ish he being called to shervish Shome million-word dervish? There ain’t ’nough bottlesh in the bar! |
(subspace messages hand-delivered by Igor the Bottle-Breaker)