Warren Murphy - Death Sentence

He spent the last evening of his life wiring his favorite easy chair to the portable gasoline generator that sat out in the sultry, mosquito-infested Florida night. For once, he let the mosquitoes bite him. For it no longer mattered.

A week later, Remo burst into the front room of his Rye, New York, home waving a newspaper. "Hey, Chiun, check this out!" he called.

The Master of Sinanju emerged from the kitchen. His hazel eyes lit up. Remo's face was free of care. He was recovering. In time, even the foul tobacco smoke would be gone from his breath.

"What it is, Remo?" he asked, advancing happily.

"Naomi made the front page," Remo said. He held up the National Enquirer. The headline read: SPACE ALIENS STEAL RENOWNED ANTHROPOLOGIST'S MEMORY! Remo turned to an inside page and began reading. " 'Noted anthropologist Naomi Vanderkloot was discovered wandering dazed through the science building of the University of Massachusetts last Thursday. When questioned by local authorities, she claimed not to remember anything that had happened during the last five years. An Enquirer panel of psychics speculate that space aliens abducted her and sucked out her memory cells. It is believed that these beings come from a distant galaxy where the turbulent atmosphere prevents ordinary television reception, and are forced to steal earthling memory cells, which they play back on VCR-like machines. Similar memory wipes have been reported in Sweden, Rio de Janeiro and-' "

"Enough," Chiun said. "I do not need to hear any more of this nonsense. If it amuses you, that is enough for me."

"Wait," Remo said brightly. "I was just getting to the best part. Listen: 'Questioned about her plans, Professor Vanderkloot said that she's organizing a field trip to the remote Philippine jungles, where she intends to befriend the semilegendary Moomba tribe in hopes of solving the riddle of their secret magic rites.' Isn't that perfect?" Remo asked, laughing uncontrollably.

The Master of Sinanju examined his pupil closely and decided Remo was not necessarily demented. "White humor," Chiun said, returning to the kitchen. "I will never understand it."