The writer hated to create bug-eyed monsters, but they hated him too!
?" Gangreneyellow asked. "You're not doing so badly yourself."
"Yeah," said a strange voice. "Neither of you are doing badly. Everything is just horrible, isn't it? The B. E. M's. march across your pages and drawing boards with assembly-line facility. But have either of you two had any feelings for us?"
The two men turned startled and terrified faces in the direction of the mysterious voice. They could see nothing. Yet they could feel the impalpable presence of some strange being in this very room with them. Suddenly they became aware of a strange fog emanating from one wall. It swept closer drawing them into its greasy folds. The voice seemed to come from the very heart of this fog:
"... Well, perhaps things will be different soon...?"
Then the fog enveloped them completely, and their senses fled from them....
* * * * *
It was an odd sort of voice, mellow, fluid, yet holding accents of anger in its even flow:
"Both of you complained you couldn't imagine this.
A science fiction writer and an illustrator are abducted by the imaginary aliens they created.
A silly story, don't expect any profound insights.