"It's a hell of a note when one guy controls the
beer situation—let's do Dudley dirty!" rang the
war cry of Doc, Listless and Outhouse. And the
intrepid trio went blearily about the business of
dirtying Dudley—empty bottles marking their trail.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1945.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
We pulled into the spaceport with the asteroid in tow. Platinum—20%.Very nice. We cleared our papers and sold the deposit for a tidy sum.There was only one thing to do and we did it.
"Three beers," said Outhouse. Six feet four he was and built like one.The bartender brought them over. None of those mechanical mixers forus like they have in the high class joints. We like human company.Maybe that's why I'm always fighting with Outhouse Murphy and ListlessLomack.
"Nice spotting on that asteroid, Doc," said Listless, downing his beerin a gulp and ordering three more, all for himself. "It's nice to havean astrophysicist in the crew. Sometimes you actually have a purpose."
"More than a third class navigator," I yipped. But I was feeling prettygood. We all were. Money in our pockets, a good ship to roam around inand the best of company. We sat around over more beer, discussing plansfor a real bender of which this was only the beginning, as you mightsay. When we finally picked out what we wanted to do, we called for thebill.
Murphy picked it up and set it down.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Look," he commanded.
I added up the column and checked the total. Then I thought back overthe number of drinks we'd had. Listless pulled out a pocket slipstickbut I didn't need it.
"The price," I said in a hushed whisper, "has doubled."
Listless turned to the bartender.
"What's the idea?" he asked. The guy shrugged.
"That's the latest," he said. "I can't help it. I gotta pay more, Igotta charge more."
"Who's your supplier?" asked Outhouse.
"Drake," said the bartender.
Murphy turned to us.
"I got suspicions," he informed us. "I got to go chase 'em up. I'll beback in a little while."
Listless and I debated whether to order more. It was almost cheaper todrink hard liquor but we decided that discretion was the better part ofhangover and stuck to beer.
We hung around for about an hour and finally the door was shadowed byMurphy's tremendous form. If an elephant can slide, Murphy slid onto astool. He ordered a couple and turned to us.
"Well, boys, what do you think of the doings of Dirty Dudley?"
Listless and I looked at each other.
"Dudley D. Drake, young tycoon; embezzled from his father, sold shorton his brother and now controls the beer situation."
"Oh," we said among other unprintables, "that is a fine, tender, sorespot with us, Outhouse. How come?"
"I'm not sure but from what I heard down at the alumni house it hassomething to do with the malting process. I think he's got a law passedor something like that. He had enough influence and he's nasty enough.In college we used to call him the 'Doctor of the Doublecross.'"
"You mean you know the punk?" I asked.
"Yeah. He tried to get my place on the wrestling team once. He droppeda table on me from the second floor." A dreamy smile played over thelips of an amused Outhouse.
"What happened?" asked Lomack.
"Oh, I caught it and threw it back up at him. Very messy. But he stayedaway from me after that. I haven't seen him in six or seven years. Andnow he starts treading on my toes again. To say nothing of you twosouses. I think it's time to renew an old ac