Alien pregnant by elvis, p.1
Alien Pregnant by Elvis, page 1
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Here, in one unbelievable volume, are thirty-six, all-original, imagination-grabbing tales that could have come straight out of the supermarket tabloid headlines. From the bride of Bigfoot to the discovery of JFK’s skull on the moon to the frozen body of Hitler found in an Atlantean love nest to an expose that will tell you whether your coworker is a space alien, here’s all the “hews” that’s not fit to print.
And these better-than-true stories have been conjured up for your secret reading pleasure by such top tale-spinners as Dennis McKiernan, Lawrence Watt-Evans, Josepha Sherman, Kate Daniel, Alan Dean Foster, Esther Friesner, Harry Turtledove, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, David Drake, David Brin, and Mike Resnick.
TABLOID TERRORS EXPOSED!
If you read the article and saw the photo, it must be true. At least that’s what all those sensationalist supermarket tabloids would have us believe. But is “truth” really stranger than fiction? You bet it’s not! At least not in this all-original volume of tabloid tales created by some of the wildest imaginations writing fiction today. Here’s just a sneak peek at what awaits you:
“The Source of It All”—Welcome to the town that is home to all the denizens of the tabloid headlines—and wait till you find out what some of the neighbors are up to!
“A Beak for Trends”—He was the shrewdest bird on the stock market—until someone started lining his cage with tabloids . . .
“Group Phenomena”—An ace reporter will do anything to get a story, even if it means taking a space alien to lunch . . .
“Unextinctions”—When long extinct species suddenly beginning turning up, alive and well, all around the globe, does it signal the start of a wondrous new age, or something far more terrifying . . .
ALIEN PREGNANT BY ELVIS
Copyright © 1994 by Esther M. Friesner and
Martin H. Greenberg
All Rights Reserved.
Cover art by Jim Warren.
DAW Book Collectors No. 955.
If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
First Printing, June 1994
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
Alien Pregnant by Elvis
About the Book
Teaser
Acknowledgments
Special Thanks
Dedication
Introduction
Esther M. Friesner
The Source of it All
Dennis McKiernan
The Bride of Bigfoot
Lawrence Watt-Evans
Close-up Photos Reveal JFK Skull on the Moon
Barry Malzberg
Marilyn, Elvis, and the Reality Blues
James Brunet
Those Rowdy Royals
Laura Resnick
My Husband Became a Zombie and it Saved Our Marriage
Karen Haber
Rock Band Conjures Satan as Manager
Deborah Wunder
2,437 UFOs Over New Hampshire
Allen Steele
Pulitzer Kills Publishing Maggot
Mark Tiedemann
Elvis at the White House
Kristine Kathryn Rusch
The Number of the Beast
Jeff Hecht
De Gustibus
Anthony Lewis
Is Your Coworker a Space Alien?
eluki “Bob” bes shahar
A Beak for Trends
Laura Frankos
Hitler Clone in Argentina Plots Faklands Reprise
John DeChancie
Group Phenomena
Thomas F. Monteleone
Unextinctions
Bruce Boston
Roger Dutcher
How Alien He Really Was
Bruce Boston
NASA Sending Addicts to Mars!
Alan Dean Foster
Vole
John Gregory Betancourt
In Search of the Perfect Orgasm
Dean Wesley Smith
Saving Sam’s Used UFOs
Kate Daniel
Danny’s Excellent Adventure!
Greg Cox
Royal Tiff Yields Face of Jesus!
Esther M. Friesner
Magnetic Personality Triggers Nail-Bitter’s Near-Death Ordeal!
t. Winter-Damon
They’d Never—
Harry Turtledove
Loch Ness Monster Found—In the Bermuda Triangle
David Vierling
Racehorse Predicts the Future!
Josepha Sherman
Printer’s Devils
Gregory Feeley
Cannibal Plants From Heck
David Drake
Psychic Bats 1000 for Accuracy!
Jody Lynn Nye
Caveat Atlantis
Richard Gilliam
Frozen Hitler Found in Atlantean Love Nest
G—rG—n
Those Eyes
David Brin
Stop Press
Mike Resnick
Martian Memorial to Elvis Sighted
George Alec Effinger
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Introduction: Alien Pregnant by Elvis © 1994 by Esther M. Friesner.
The Source of It All © 1994 by Dennis McKiernan.
The Bride of Bigfoot © 1994 by Lawrence Watt-Evans.
Close-up Photos Reveal JFK Skull on Moon! © 1994 by Barry Malzberg. Marilyn, Elvis, and the Reality Blues © 1994 by James Brunet.
Those Rowdy Royals! © 1994 by Laura Resnick.
My Husband Became a Zombie and It Saved Our Marriage © 1994 by Karen Haber.
Rock Band Conjures Satan as Manager © 1994 by Deborah Wunder. 2,437 UFOs Over New Hampshire © 1994 by Allen Steele.
Pulitzer Kills Publishing Maggot © 1994 by Mark Tiedemann.
Elvis at the White House © 1994 by Kristine Kathryn Rusch.
The Number of the Beast © 1994 by Jeff Hecht.
De Gustibus © 1994 by Anthony Lewis.
Is Your Coworker a Space Alien? © 1994 by Eluki bes Shahar.
A Beak for Trends © 1994 by Laura Frankos.
Hitler Clone in Argentina Plots Falklands Reprise © 1994 by John DeChancie.
Group Phenomena © 1994 by Thomas F. Monteleone.
Unextinctions © 1994 by Bruce Boston and Roger Dutcher.
How Alien He Really Was © 1994 by Bruce Boston.
NASA Sending Addicts to Mars! © 1994 by Alan Dean Foster.
Vole © 1994 by John Gregory Betancourt.
In Search of the Perfect Orgasm © 1994 by Dean Wesley Smith.
Saving Sam’s Used UFOs © 1994 by Kate Daniel.
Danny’s Excellent Adventure © 1994 by Greg Cox.
Royal Tiff Yields Face of Jesus! © 1994 by Esther M. Friesner.
Magnetic Personality Triggers Nail-Biter’s Near-Death Ordeal! © 1994 by t. Winter-Damon.
They’d Never . . . © 1994 by Harry Turtledove.
Loch Ness Monster Found in the Bermuda triangle © 1994 by David Vierling.
Racehorse Predicts the Future! © 1994 by Josepha Sherman.
Printer’s Devils © 1994 by Gregory Feeley.
Cannibal Plants from Heck © 1994 by David Drake.
Psychic Bats 1000 for Accuracy © 1994 by Jody Lynn Nye.
Caveat Atlantis © 1994 by Richard Gilliam.
Frozen Hitler Found in Atlantean Love Nest © 1994 by Rosemary Edghill. Those Eyes © 1994 by David Brin.
Stop Press © 1994 by Mike Resnick.
Martian Memorial to Elvis Sighted © 1994 by George Alec Effinger.
Special thanks to
Greer Gilman
for the title.
This book is dedicated
to the Gentlefolk of the Press
and also to
Bigfoot
Nessie
Elvis
Marilyn
and all the Little People (from Mars, or wherever)
without whom the best tabloid journalism
would not be what it is today.
ALIEN PREGNANT BY ELVIS
ELVIS APPEARS IN VISION,
PREDICTS THIS BOOK!
Well, actually, it wasn’t Elvis, it was a picture of a hamster. A three-foot-tall hamster that was the subject of a tabloid newspaper article describing how some guy in Godknowswhere, West Dakota, was raising these giant rodents for use as vicious guard dogs. It might have been the same issue that revealed Hitler was a 103-year-old woman when he/she/it died.
SCIENCE FICTION LOSES
CUTTING EDGE TO NESSIE!
So I said to myself, “I have given the best years of my fair young life to writing science fiction because I always heard that SF was the literature of ideas, a peephole into the dressing room of the future, the only writing that takes chances. Sure, people said to me, ‘Oh, you write that weird stuff,’ but I didn’t mind. Maybe SF is weird, wild, totally gonzo, but at least it shows how far the human imagination can go!”
Now this. Three-foot-tall attack hamsters. Who’ d ’a thunk it? In the race for the gonzo edge of the universe, SF has been left in the dust by the tabloids.
Dang.
EDITOR GETS IDEA:
THOUSANDS FLEE SCREAMING!
As I was saying to the aliens who came to take me to Planet Xax as soon as I got the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven (even Xaxians will wait for chocolate chip cookies), “I love a challenge!” And I was willing to bet that there were plenty of other writers out there who felt the same.
Yes, it was time to take up the gauntlet the tabloid press had flung at the feet of SF and go for the gonzo gold! Could science fiction writers dig deep and come up with stories even wilder than what’s on the supermarket checkout newsstands?
Would some of the top names in the field deliver a new spin on the bizarre, the arcane, the extremely profitable News of the Weird?
How do you litter train a three-foot-tall attack hamster?
Even before the ink was dry on the letters of invitation, the stories came pouring in.
SECRET BENEFITS OF READING ALIEN
PREGNANT BY ELVIS REVEALED!
SEX SECRETS OF THE STARS!
AMAZING NEW DIET BREAKTHROUGH!
THINNER THIGHS, FIRMER FANNY,
FACELIFT WITHOUT SURGERY!
Yes, astounding but true, reading this book may actually help you:
Lose unwanted pounds! (If you don’t eat anything while you’re reading it.)
Firm up that flab! (If you put the book between your knees at least twice a day and squeeze twenty times, rest, repeat.)
Improve your sex life! (If you give it as a birthday gift, nicely wrapped, with maybe the keys to a new Porsche casually tied to the ribbon.)
Remove unwanted sags and wrinkles! (If you don’t mind replacing them with laugh lines.)
Raise your I.Q.! (Or at least give you lots of food for thought, and that’s never fattening.)
Thrill as Martian Memorial to Elvis Sighted!
Meet The Bride of Bigfoot!
Learn The Number of the Beast!
Confront Cannibal Plants from Heck!
Gasp at 2,437 UFOs Over New Hampshire!
Discover what it is that They’d Never . . .
Get the scoop on Those Rowdy Royals!
Shudder as Pulitzer Kills Publishing Maggot!
See Elvis at the White House!
. . . and many more!
We’ve got tabloid tales from the past, present, and future, stories taken from the front pages and behind the scenes, sagas serious and silly. Hey, as long as you’re stuck waiting in the supermarket checkout line anyway, you might as well check this out, too.
UFO ALIENS SAY:
YOU’LL BE GLAD YOU DID!
The Source of it All
by Dennis McKiernan
I can think of no better way to lead off this anthology than with a story that reveals the truth about tabloids. This week’s truth, anyway.
The world knows Dennis McKiernan as the best-selling author of such fantasy novels as Voyage of the Fox Rider, The Eye of the Hunter, and the soon-to-appear story collection Tales of Mithgar as well as the graphic novel The Vulgmaster.
However, when asked to tell us a bit about himself for this book, Dennis wrote that “he was subdued and thrown in a padded cell when in a meeting of his encounter group he leaped up and confessed that every tabloid tale is in fact true, and to have found the place where all of them originate . . .”
Ooooooookay.
It was right after the horse was born with the face of a boy that we found the great pyramid buried in my backyard.
“What the hell?” shouted Rikki when his shovel struck stone.
“Looks like marble,” said Tikki, shoveling a bit more dirt out of the hole.
“Not just ordinary marble,” muttered Tavi, squatting, taking Rikki and Tikki down with him. “Ha! I was right. This has been quarried and shaped.”
“Here, let me see,” I said, shoving my way in past my best friends—y’see, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi is the three-headed boy who lives next door (the man who was in labor for thirty-two hours before finally giving birth to them had been an avid reader of Kipling).
Using two shovels, all four of us dug out three more feet.
“It’s sloped like the top of a pyramid,” said Tavi (he was always the brightest of the three).
“Hmm,” I hmmed. “Maybe we ought to get some expert advice on this before we go much deeper. I’ll ask Gramps. You guys keep digging, but if you run into anything particularly special, stop.”
I clambered up out of the hole and went to find Gramps. As I expected, he was in his dark room. Gramps is rather allergic to the sun. Oh, not that he’s a vampire—like old Bram down the street—or anything of that sort. Instead, Gramps was out of the sunlight for so long he developed a sensitivity to it. You see, he’s the survivor who spent forty-six years trapped inside the hull of the Titanic.
Anyway, I found Gramps in his dark room—actually, it’s sort of a murky bluish color in there and not completely black.
“Gramps, we’ve found a pyramid buried in the backyard.”
“Oh, izzat so?” he said, laying down his book and turning toward me, sloshing a bit as he Sways does. (In spite of his allergy, he’s extremely well read—I mean, what else was there to do down there?) “Well, let me tell you, my boy, pyramids are nothing compared to what I’ve seen. Why, for forty-six years the Titanic and I drifted on currents under the ocean. Around the world we went, twice! and don’t you forget it. Of course, I didn’t see the usual sights—Paris and London and all of that Oh, no, my boy, through that porthole I saw Atlantis and Mu and the statue of Rhodes and other such. And not where every so-called expert says they are, either. Instead, they’re down near Bermuda. Lotsa stuff down there, let me tell you. Flight nineteen. The Mary Deare. More, much more. Did I ever tell you how I survived in that weed-filled air pocket? Why, who would believe that a man eats nothing but seamoss for forty-six years and lives to tell of it? Let me remind you, whippersnapper, this stuff is good for you.” Sloshing as he turned, he reached one of his prune-wrinkled white hands into the ever-present bowl at his side, dredging up a fistful of slimy green weed. “Here, have some.”
“Uh, no thanks, Gramps,” I blurted and turned on my heel and ran. I had to get out of there before he launched into his giant-squid-saves-trapped-man story.
Well, smart as he was, Gramps had been no help.
Dejectedly, I went back to the dig. Rikki, Tikki, and Tavi had by this time recruited the giant robot to help with the excavation. In spite of his buzzing and chanking and whirring, he was a nice guy. Why the giant robot had run amok in Leningrad and killed thousands, we will probably never know. Regardless, he was doing all the digging now, while Rikki-Tikki-Tavi supervised (they always said that three heads are better than none . . . I mean, look at Arlo, the kid over on Mulberry Street, blundering around blindly as he does.).
I sat on the edge of the crater and watched as Igor (the giant robot) zzzzzrrrppped and ckkachkkachkkaed and fffwwssshhhed, heaving great masses of dirt through the air to wwhhhmp! down in piles at the edge of the swamp. This wasn’t going to make Beautiful Alice very happy. I mean, it looked to be blocking one of her lure paths—the one leading to the sacrificial quicksand pool. Now I ask you, would you be happy with this if you were a ghostly wraith enticing victims into a swampy quagmire?
Oh, well, we’d get that fixed later . . . once the pyramid was uncovered. And Igor was really throwing dirt now. Why, he was down about a hundred feet or so. It looked to be a massive pyramid. And speaking of pyramids, who could I turn to to help us interpret whatever we found inside? Who in the neighborhood knew about pyramids and sarcophagi and soul boats and mummies and hieroglyphs and curses and other such? Amid all the bzzzrrpmg and chhnnkkmg and chggachggachggamg, Rikki and Tikki and Tavi and I talked it over. We discussed possible candidates. And no matter who was suggested, one or the other of us poo-pooed the idea. . .
“Mister Set? Nah! What would a guy with a dog’s head know about pyramids anyway?”
