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not know； however； about the Mailgram Herb Porter got from him…in it Hecksler referred to Herb as 〃the designated Jew；〃 a reference none of us has figured out to this day）。 It got steadily more abusive； and just before his sister had him mitted to an asylum up…state； Sandra Jackson confessed to me that she was getting scared to go home alone…said she was afraid the General might jump out of a darkened doorway with a knife in one hand and a bouquet of psychic posies in the other。 She said the hell of it was that none of us even knew what he looked like…we'd have needed a writing sample instead of a mug…shot to identify him。
And of course it all sounds funny now； but it wasn't funny when it happened…it was only after his sister wrote to us that we found out we were actually one of his lesser obsessions； and of course he did turn out to be dangerous； just ask the Albany bus driver he stabbed。
I knew all that…even mentioned it to Roger…and still blithely went ahead and invited Detweiller to submit。
Of course； the other thing （and knowing me as you do； you've probably already guessed it） is simpler…it upsets me to have goofed in such grand style。 If a gonzo illiterate like Carlos Detweiller could fool me this badly （I did think his book would have to be ghosted； true； but that is still no excuse）； how much good stuff am I missing？ Please don't laugh； I'm serious。 Roger is always ragging me about my 〃lit'ry aspirations；〃 and I suppose he has a right to （no progress on the novel this week if you're interested…this Detweiller thing has depressed me too much）； considering where the erstwhile head of the Brown University Milton Society ended up （he ended up encouraging Anthony LaScorbia to get right to work on his newest epic； Wasps from Hell； for one thing）。 But I think I would happily accept six months of hectoring letters from the obviously mad Carlos Detweiller； plete with veiled threats being a little less veiled with each missive； if I could only be assured that I hadn't let something good slip by because of a totally deadened critical response。
I don't know if this is more or less gloomy； but Roger mentioned in one of his Famous Memos that the Apex Corporation is going to give Zenith at least one more year to stop impersonating a dead dog and start showing some sales pizazz。 He got the news from Harlow Enders； Apex's chief New York ptroller； so presumably it's accurate。 I guess it's good news when you consider that not everyone in publishing has got an office to go to these days； not even with a pany whose biggest steady seller is the Macho Man series and whose biggest in…house problem isn't spies making copies of manuscripts so that the movie studios can get an early look； but cockroaches in the water…cooler。 It's maybe not so good when you think of how little money we have to spend （maybe you deserve to get the Carlos Detweillers of the world when the most you can offer as an advance against royalties is 1800） and how shitty our distribution is。 But no one at Apex understands books or book marketing…I doubt if anyone there even knows why they picked up Zenith House last year in the first place； except that it happened to be for sale cheap。 The chances that we can improve our position （2％ of the paperback market； fifteenth in a field of fifteen） over the next year aren't very high。 Maybe we'll end up getting married in California after all； huh； babe？
Well； enough doom and gloom…I'll mail this off and hopefully get back to work on my book tomorrow…and the next letter I write will be of the 〃chatty； newsy〃 variety。 Shall I ask ole Carlos to send you flowers from Central Falls？
Forget I asked that。
My love；
John
P。 S。 …And tell your roommate that I don't believe manufacturing 〃the world's largest edible Frisbee〃 has any merit whatsoever； Guinness Book of Records or not。 Why not ask her if she has any interest in trying for the world's record of sitting in a spaghetti…filled bathtub？ First one to shatter it wins an all…expense…paid trip to Central Falls； Rhode Island。 。 。
J。
interoffice memo
TO： Roger FROM： John RE： True Tales of Demon Infestations； by Carlos Detweiller
Detweiller's manuscript came this morning； wrapped in shopping bags； secured with twine （much of it broken）； and apparently typed by someone with terrible motor control problems。 It is every bit as bad as I feared…abysmal； beyond hope。
That could and should be the end； but some of the photos he enclosed are intensely disturbing； Roger…and this is no joke； so please don't treat it as one。 They are a weird conglomeration of black…and…white glossies （made with a Nikon； I would guess）； color slides （ditto Nikon）； and Polaroid SX…70 shots。 Most of them are ridiculous…middle…aged men and women either got up in black bathrobes with cabalistic designs sewn on them or middle…aged men and women in nothing at all； displaying skinny shanks； dangling breasts； and pot bellies。 They look exactly like what you'd guess the folks of Central Falls would imagine a Black Mass should look like （in some of them there is a much younger man who is probably Detweiller himself…this young man is always shot from the rear or with his face in deep shadow）； and the locale appears； in most cases； to be a greenhouse…associated with the florist's where Detweiller told me he works； I imagine。
There's one packet of six photos labelled 〃The Sakred Seance〃 which show plasmic manifestations so obviously faked it's pitiful （what appears to be a balloon frosted with Day…Glo paint is floating from the medium's fingertips）。 A third packet of photos （all SX…70 shots） are textbook…style 〃exhibit〃 shots of various plants which purport to be deadly nightshade； belladonna； virgin's hair； etc。 （impossible for me to tell if the labels are accurate…I can't tell a maple tree from a ponderosa pine without help； Ruth would probably know）。
Okay； the disturbing part。 Some of the photos （four； to be pletely accurate） in the 〃Black Mass〃 scenes purport to show a human sacrifice…and it looks to me as if maybe they really did kill someone。 The first photo shows an old man with an extremely realistic expression of terror on his face lying spread…eagled on a table in the greenhouse I mentioned。 Several people in hokey robes are holding him down。 The young man I presume to be Carlos Detweiller is standing on the left； naked； with what looks like a Bowie knife。 The second shows the knife plunging into the old fellow's chest； in the third； the man I presume to be Detweiller is reaching into the chest cavity； in the last he is holding up a dripping thing for the others to look at。 The dripping thing looks very much like a human heart。
The pictures could be plete hokum； and I'd be the first to admit it…a half…decent special effects man could cobble up something like this； I suppose； especially in stills。 。 。 but the efforts to mislead in the other photos are so painfully obvious that I wonder if that can be。
Just glancing at them is enough to make me want to whoops my cookies； Roger…what if we've stumbled onto a bunch of people who are really practicing human sacrifice？ Mass murder； perhaps？ I'm nauseated； but right now I'm more scar