Once upon a time, there was a callow young fan of two and forty. This young man was involved in a hotly contested Worldcon bid. He was a committee member for one of the proud bids and his task was to promote the many charms of that fair bid. In the heat of the battle for Worldcon domination, our protagonist conceived a plan. "A pirate short story contest shall be just the thing to win the hearts of Fandom!" he declared.
He reasoned, "Other members of our jolly crew are holding pirate costume contests and pirate filk song contests. I shall create a pirate short story contest. And since the Bureau of Engraving and Printing's gift shop is only a short trip under 14th Street from my desk, I shall offer an uncut sheet of 32 U.S. dollar bills as a grand prize!"
So notice of this wonderful contest was placed in his marvelous advertisements for their pirate World-con bid. A deadline was set for the entries; the winner would be announced at the Scottish Convention. The final days of the bid drew near. Our fan was in the heart of things. There was packing to do, parties to plan, ads to be written and the deadline slipped past. Not one entry for his contest did he receive. He left for Scotland a sad and broken fan.
To everyone's surprise, especially the committee's, the pirate bid won in Glasgow. The fan was placed in charge of the newly elected World-con's pre-con publications. It was not fair, but it was argued that his brilliant advertising campaign had contributed to his bid's victory. And therefore, he did need to be punished.
After their triumphant return from Scotland, the committee gathered for a meeting and celebration party. It was the start of our hero's doom. From some black hole where important mail sulks, came five entries for the pirate short story contest. Hidden away for months, they finally saw the fluorescent light of the Baltimore Science Fiction Society clubhouse.
Our hero, the new editor said, "These stories are late. We have won and I can ignore them now." But they would not go away! Their creators asked by e-mail and letter, "Oh please, kind sir, what has happened to my fine pirate story?" The stories were cursed and the editor could not reply. He took the five stories and placed them in a U.S. Government Messenger Envelope and hung them 'round his neck.
For the next year, our hero carried those stories. The messages kept coming. The editor went down into his basement to live behind the water heater. He lived on crickets and dust bunnies until one day a dust bunny spoke to him, "Why don't you just read the stories and pick a winner?" This sounded like a good idea, especially since the new Babylon 5 season was starting and TV reception was terrible behind the water heater.
So we present the winner of the Baltimore 1998 Worldcon bid's Pirate Short Story Contest with an original illustration by Fan Artist Hugo nominee Joe Mayhew. The Pirates of St. Attila by James "Merlin" Odom, Jr. satisfied my original vision to the greatest degree. I wish to thank and to apologize to all the other contestants: Dick Eney of Bladensburg, Maryland; Eugenia Horne of Nampa, Idaho; Tjeima Nadaumaz MacAulay of Slough, United Kingdom; and Lynda Manning-Schwartz of Austin, Texas. I will return all the stories and send out James' prize as soon as I finish my new book, The Cricket and Dust Bunny Diet.
As a final note, the Treasurer of the United States, Mary Ellen Withrow, was visiting our office recently so I zipped over to the gift shop and bought a sheet of currency for her to sign for James. Is it ironic to use a credit card to purchase money?
| Broadside 2 | Bucconeer |