Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net The Animated Pinup By Lewis Parker [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy July 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] [Sidenote: You're not expected to believe this story since it's the kind of thing that science calls impossible. But anyway, she happened. Who? Why--] To make it clear how normal everything was when the evening started out, I'll let you in at the time Willy phoned me. I was in my apartment with a lady from down the hall.... I had asked her what she liked and she'd purred, "You." I had asked her with soda or gingerale and she'd said, "Straight," so I'd obliged and poured myself a triple too and sank into the sofa beside her. The phone rang. "Oh damn," she said. "Your earlobes--" I began. "The phone, James." "Your shoulders--" "James? Don't you think you'd better answer it?" So I sighed and handed her the glass and told her not to hold it till I got back or she'd melt the ice. I crossed the room to the telephone. "City morgue," I said. "Uh--unh--" "Hullo Willy," I said, recognizing the stammer. While he gulped and stuttered a couple more times I threw a kiss to the lady. She failed to throw it back because she was placing a bet with herself that Willy was short for Wilhelmina. Willy straightened his tongue out. "Jim, I've got to see you." Now Willy was a nervous little guy from faulty thyroid but neurotic in a bearable way. He sounded even more upset than he usually did. I didn't particularly like him, but he was a topflight illustrator and I liked the way he drew women, and besides I'd been trying for a year to tag him for our agency. All the slicker art agencies were after him, that's how good he was. We'd made the highest bid for him but he still had this bug in his noodle for free-lancing, which showed he had more business sense than the rest of his ilk but which wasn't doing my position at the agency any good. I'd been joed to bag him. Which was why I hesitated and reconsidered the impulse to brush him off. This was the first time he had definitely asked to see me. Sunday midnight is one hell of a time to suddenly decide to see a dogging agent, but like I said Willy was neurotic. So I just tested the impulse. "Well, Willy," I said, "I'm pretty busy at the moment looking after the interests of the agency artists. They always come first, you know. Could it wait--" "Jim, I've got to see you. It's--It's driving me nuts trying to figure out what to do." "Tax trouble? Or maybe one of your models?" "No, nothing like that. Listen. Will you come over tonight?"