Nothing But Gingerbread Left, page 3
Not many people knew. But more people will know now. In fact, a lot of people in Germany are going to know. Things get around there. Planes go over and drop leaflets, and people whisper, and they’ll remember a certain catchy German stanza that’s going the rounds.
Yeah. Maybe this particular copy of Astounding will find its way to England, and maybe an R. A. F. pilot will drop it near Berlin, or Paris, for that matter. Word will get around. There are lots of men on the continent who can read English.
And they’ll talk.
They won’t believe, at first. But they’ll keep their eyes open. And there’s a catchy little rhythm they’ll remember. Some day the story will reach Berlin or Berchtesgarten. Some day it’ll reach the guy with the little mustache and the big voice.
And, a little while later—days or weeks, it doesn’t matter—Goebbels is going to walk into a big room, and there he’s going to see Adolf Hitler goose-stepping around and yelling:
LEFT
LEFT
LEFT a wife and SEVenteen children in
STARVing condition with NOTHing but gingerbread LEFT—
THE END.
Henry Kuttner, Nothing But Gingerbread Left
