Nightmare on the Nose

Evelyn E. Smith

• Publisher: Start Publishing LLC
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781649741585
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Science Fiction
• Index: Literature

Incubus won every race but one. Yet though in this respect she matched Man o' War's record she wasn't actually a horse at all. Evelyn E. Smith is best known as the author of the Miss Melville mysteries. From 1952 to 1969 she wrote dozens of science fiction and fantasy short stories that appeared in magazines such as The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Galaxy, Super Science Fiction, and Fantastic Universe. Her stories were witty, well written, often humorous, and always unforgettable.

Incubus won every race but one. Yet though in this respect she matched Man o’ War’s record she wasn’t actually a horse at all.

Every time he lost money at the track Phil Watson had a nightmare. They grew increasingly frequent as his bankroll dwindled and his hopes of getting rich dwindled accordingly.

The night after he had dropped two hundred dollars at Jamaica, the nightmare grew particularly oppressive. In the darkness he could see her red eyes glowing at him as she sat on his chest.

“Would you mind not turning over so much?” she asked, seeing that he was awake. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“It makes you uncomfortable!” he moaned. “How would you like to have a couple of tons of horse sitting on you?”

“I do not weigh a couple of tons!” she snapped. “And furthermore I assure you I’m sitting on your chest out of duty, certainly not out of pleasure. If you don’t think I have lots better things to do with my nights than go around sitting on people...” Her large white teeth gleamed in a significant leer.

He sighed and squirmed again. A sharp hoof kicked him in the side. “That’ll learn you not to wiggle, Watson. Since you’re not sleeping,” she added, “how about a couple of games of Canasta?”

“I’ve been losing enough on the races—I’m not going to start gambling with a supernatural card shark.”

“Listen here.” The nightmare bristled. “I can beat you at any game without the use of supernatural powers. You’re known as the number-one sucker at all the tracks.”

“That’s right. That’s right. Kick a man when he’s down.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to be unsporting. But you get me so mad!”

“Unsporting...” he mused—then sat up as a terrific idea hit him.

“Watch your step, Watson,” the nightmare warned when the sudden movement nearly threw her off the bed. “I’ve been standing for a lot from you but—”

“Listen, can you run?”

“Run? Whaddya mean run?”

“How fast can you go?”

“Well, I’ll be honest with you. Down—where I come from I’m known as ‘Old Slow Poke.’ I can’t move much faster than speed of sound while all the other girls have the velocity of light. But that’s the way it is—some are born with brains and some with speed.”

“The velocity of sound is good enough,” Watson decided. “Look here, Nightmare, how’d you like to run in a race?”

“A race?” Then the nightmare chuckled evilly to her...