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GAHAN WILSON is a cartoonist He draws things that scare me Sometimes he writes stories too In this story, with a somewhat unpronounceable title (you’ll see why), he co results, to show us a most unnatural creature indeed

One s and toast, there’s a dark spot on the tablecloth, and where it came from, no one knows The only certainty is that theat it, it rows…

THE FIRST TIME REGINALD ARCHER saw the thing, it was, in its sihtest complication or involvenificant trace of embellishment It looked like this:

A spot Nothing more Black, as you see, so, unpretentious spot

It was located on Reginald Archer’s dazzlingly white linen tablecloth, on his breakfast table, three and one half inches froinald Archer was in the act of opening the egg in the eggcup when he saw the spot

He paused and frowned Reginald Archer was a bachelor, had been one for his full forty-three years, and he was fond of a ss like black spots on table linens displeased hi the bell to summon his butler, Faulks

That worthy entered and, seeing the dark expression upon his master’s face, approached his side with caution He cleared his throat, bowed ever so slightly, just exactly the right a the direction of his er, observed, in his turn, the spot

“What,” asked Archer, “is this doing here?”

Faulks, after a moment’s solemn consideration, owned he had no idea how the spot had coized profusely for its presence, and prog left untasted in its cup, his appetite quite gone, and left the room

It was Archer’s habit to retire everyto his study and there tend to any little chores of correspondence and finance which had accu else, was precise to the point of being ritualistic; he liked to arrange his days in reliable, predictable patterns He had seated hiany, and was reaching for the mail which had been tidily stacked for his perusal, when, on the green blotter which entirely covered the desk’s working surface, he saw:

He paled, I do not exaggerate, and rang once er pause than would usually have occurred, before the trustworthy Faulks responded to his nizable confusion

“The spot, sir—” Faulks began, but Archer cut him short

“Bother the spot,” he snapped, indicating the offense on the blotter “What is this?”

Faulks peered at the in bafflement

“I do not know, sir,” he said “I have never seen anything quite like it”

“Nor have I,” said Archer “Nor do I wish to see its likes again Have it removed”

Faulks began to carefully take away the blotter, sliding it out frorips which held it to the desk, as Archer watched him icily Then, for the first time, Archer noticed his elderly servant’s very odd expression He recalled Faulks’s discontinued comment

“What is it you were trying to tell me, then?” he asked

The butler glanced up at him, hesitated, and then spoke

“It’s about the spot, sir,” he said “The one on the tablecloth I went to look at it, after you had left, sir, and I cannot understand it, sir—it was gone!”