Don't Shoot
By ROBERT ZACKS
Illustrated by ASHMAN
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction April 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
A man has to have a place to confess a horrible
sin ... and this is as good as any other!
I can no longer keep my terrible secret, although the thought of whatwill happen to me, when I tell my story, gives me a trembling fromhead to toe. Without doubt, word will flash to the proper authoritiesand stern-faced men with sympathetic eyes will bring straitjacket andsedatives, and hunt me down to tear me from Mary's clinging arms. Apadded cell will be made ready for another unfortunate.
Nevertheless what we have just read in the newspapers has made usfearfully agree that I must tell all, regardless of my own fate. So letme say this:
If it is true that an expedition is being organized in London to goto the cold and rocky wastes of the Himalayas for the purpose ofinvestigating that astonishing primeval creature called 'The AbominableSnowman,' then I am forced to tell you immediately ... the AbominableSnowman is none other than Mr. Eammer, the famous movie magnate.
And I am the one responsible for this amazing situation. I and myinvention which Mr. Eammer had hired me to develop, an invention whichwould put 3-D and Cinemascope and the new Largoscope process so farbehind in the fierce Hollywood battle for supremacy that Mr. Eammerwould at last have complete control of the industry, and, for thatmatter, television also.
You will say this is impossible because one or two glimpses of theAbominable Snowman have shown it to be an apelike creature?
And the animal's body is covered with thick, coarse hair?
Well, did you ever see Mr. Eammer lounging beside his elaborate BeverlyHills swimming pool? He looks as if he's just climbed down from atree. The last young movie lovely an agent had brought around to talkcontracts took one look, screamed and fainted. It is said she washysterical for two days.
But let me tell how it all started. Remember those awful days whentelevision, like a monster with a wild pituitary gland, grew until ittook the word 'colossal' away from filmdom? What a battle! Like twogiant bears rearing up face to face, roaring, screaming, swappingterrible blows of mighty paws, the two industries fought, with thefilm industry reeling bloodily, at first, then rallying with 3-D, thenCinemascope, and television pressing home the fierce attack with colorTV.
And who was caught in the middle of all this, without any protection?Mr. Eammer. Why? Well, let me give you some background on thatcharacter. When talkies killed the era of silent films, Mr. Eammernearly got shaken loose in the change. He'd scornfully dismissed thenew development.
"Ha," he'd said. "People come to my movies for one of two things. Tofall asleep, or to look at the pretty girlies."
When the movie industry began to look for good stories and materialthat stimulated the mind as well as the emotion, Mr. Eammer had jeered."Ha. People are stupid, people are sheep. They don't want to think,they just want to see the pretty girlies."
Six months later, Mr. Eammer had sent emissaries to England to try tohire this guy Billy Shakespeare. "Offer him anything," ordered Mr.Eammer grimly. "Tell him we'll fill the water cooler in his office withgin, he can pick any secretary he likes from among