Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction March 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
A FEAST OF DEMONS
By WILLIAM MORRISON
Illustrated by DILLON
I
hat year we were all Romans, and I have to tell you that I look awfulin a toga and short sword, but not nearly as awful as the Greek.
You go to one of the big schools and naturally you turn out for theClass Reunion. Why not? There's money there, and good fellowship, andmoney, and the chance of a business contact that will do you somegood. And money.
Well, I wasn't that fortunate—and you can say that again because it'sthe story of my life: I wasn't that fortunate.
I didn't go to Harvard, Princeton or Yale. I didn't even go toColumbia, U.C.L.A. or the University of Chicago. What I went to wasOld Ugly. Don't lie to me—you never heard of Old Ugly, not even if Itell you it's Oglethorpe A. & M. There were fifty-eight of us in mygraduating class—that's 1940—and exactly thirty turned up for thetenth reunion.
Wouldn't that turn your stomach? Only thirty Old Grads with enoughloyalty and school feeling to show up for that tenth reunion andparade around in Roman togas and drink themselves silly and renew oldschool ties. And, out of that thirty, the ones that we all reallywanted to see for sentimental reasons—I refer to Feinbarger ofFeinbarger Shipping, Schroop of the S.S.K. Studios in Hollywood, Dixonof the National City Bank and so on—they didn't show up at all. Itwas terribly disappointing to all of us, especially to me.
In fact, at the feast that evening, I found myself sitting next to ElGreco. There simply wasn't anyone else there. You understand that Idon't refer to that Spanish painter—I believe he's dead, as a matterof fact. I mean Theobald Greco, the one we called the Greek.
introduced myself and he looked at me blearily through thickglasses. "Hampstead? Hampstead?"
"Virgil Hampstead," I reminded him. "You remember me. Old Virgie."
He said, "Sure. Any more of that stuff left in the bottle, OldVirgie?"
I poured for him. It was my impression, later borne out by evidence,that he was not accustomed to drinking.
I said, "It's sure great to see all the fellows again, isn't it? Say,look at Pudge Detweiler there! Ever see anything so comical as thelampshade he's wearing for a hat?"
"Just pass me the bottle, will you?" Greco requested. "Old Virgie, Imean."
"Still in research and that sort of thing?" I asked. "You always werea brain, Greek. I can't tell you how much I've envied you creativefellows. I'm in sales myself. Got a little territory right here that'sa mint, Greek. A mint. If I only knew where