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New gen Starsky and Hutch zine

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  • Agent With Style
    DEADLINE FOR PRE-CON ORDERS SHareCon, BASCon........past, but will take pre-con orders for *brand-new* zines only Eclecticon..............midnight, Oct. 25
    Message 1 of 1 , Oct 19, 2004
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      DEADLINE FOR PRE-CON ORDERS

      SHareCon, BASCon........past, but will take pre-con
      orders for *brand-new* zines only

      Eclecticon..............midnight, Oct. 25

      Galaxy Con..............midnight, Nov. 8

      If you want to pick up zines at any of these cons,
      please place your pre-con orders on our webpage as
      soon as possible!


      Agent With Style
      (www.agentwithstyle.com)

      is proud to announce a brand new
      slash Starsky and Hutch novel is available

      SEASONED TIMBER 3

      Wood that has been stressed and gone through
      several years of lashing rain and freezing cold
      becomes seasoned timber, proving that it can withstand
      the test of time and has the strength to outlast
      whatever Mother Nature can throw at it. Likewise is
      the bond and friendship between Starsky and Hutch.
      They've weathered every storm and have come out the
      other side stronger and better for it. These stories
      explore that friendship that may bend with the fierce
      wind, but will never break.

      This *thick,* 260+ paged, full-size zine is
      dedicated to Paula Wilshe, a beloved S&H writer and
      fan who recently passed away, and is full of stories
      she would have loved: from silly to dramatic, and
      everything in between, all permeated with the deep
      love and friendship Starsky and Hutch have for each
      other. Come share the love and laughter in this zine!

      * * *

      ALL IN THE ASKING by Katie Steuer

      The bathroom door opened and Hutch emerged, paler
      than before. "Thought you left." He was short of
      breath, but kept moving, like if he stopped, he'd
      never start again.

      I'd come for the money. It hardly seemed the
      place or time to mention it. I put an arm around his
      waist. "Who's gonna tuck you in?" I asked lightly.
      His back was wet with sweat. "Hutch, maybe you should
      see a doctor."

      "I did, last night." He paused, halfway across
      the room. "God, it hurts. Feels like a knife going
      right down my leg." He lurched into motion again, his
      steps getting shorter.

      "Didn't he give you anythin'?"

      "What?" The promise of his bed was distracting.
      "Yeah. I couldn't get up off the gym floor, so they
      called an ambulance. Took me to the emergency room.
      Doctor gave me some kind of shot that really knocked
      me out. Wouldn't let me drive home. Put me in a
      taxi."

      Ambulance? Hospital? I'd been home the night
      before and the phone never rang.

      Hutch had halted by the bed. I could see he was
      girding himself to lay back down, squeezing his eyes
      shut in anticipation of the motion. "Why didn't ya
      give me a call? I would've driven you home." Then,
      belatedly, I thought, And where was your wife?

      "Huh?" The worn blue eyes focused briefly on me.
      "Didn't want to bother you. And Van was out." He
      gave the last words a faint twist, half-mocking,
      half-despair, as he sank down onto the edge of the
      bed. I swung his legs up and he sagged back on the
      mattress. "...Thanks."

      Didn't want to bother me.... I didn't need this.
      I should've just gotten the twenty and gone. But
      instead, I looked at him, at his tired face, ready to
      receive pain. At the defeat in his discouraged eyes.
      This is where I had come in, Hutch braced against the
      hurt in his back and me standing there, feeling
      helpless. I had to do something for him, and I bent
      over, pulling off his shoes and socks. He wiggled his
      toes gratefully, sighing with satisfaction, but the
      gesture didn't go far to relieve his discomfort.

      "The doctor give you a prescription or anything?"

      "Yeah. But the cabbie was on his way home and
      didn't want to stop." Hutch gave me a weary
      half-smile. "And I was too dopey to argue."

      Just a blond pushover at times.... "Is your car
      still at Vinnie's?"

      "Think so." He waved a hand toward the kitchen,
      the motion vague. "Keys are on the table."

      I went out into the hall, picking up papers as I
      moved. Once in the kitchen, I sorted them into order
      and scanned them. Oh, Hutch. Divorce papers,
      Vanessa's signature bold on the final sheet of page.
      He hadn't signed it. I put them down on the counter,
      uncertain what to do with them, my stomach queasy.
      Felt like I was wading in way over my head, turning up
      things I hadn't wanted to find.


      CRIME SCENES by Helene

      Hutch threw the Home and Garden section of the
      Sunday paper aside and glanced at the clock. It
      wasn't noon, but he decided that it was close enough
      that he could call Starsky without violating any rules
      about sleeping late on weekends. He grabbed the phone
      and dialed the number, then waited impatiently while
      it rang and rang.

      "Come on, Starsky," he muttered when he heard the
      eighth ring. Finally he gave up and slammed the
      receiver down. His partner had called him on Friday
      and assured him that he was fine and getting plenty of
      rest, and had told him that he was going to spend
      Saturday with Nancy, someone he had been dating
      occasionally for the past couple of months. Hutch
      thought that was a good sign, but had still driven
      past his partner's apartment on Saturday, hoping he
      could tell whether anything was amiss without breaking
      his private vow not to interfere with Starsky's desire
      to be alone. He had seen nothing to either worry him
      more, or greatly lessen his concern, other than the
      absence of the Torino in front of the building, but
      that at least reassured him that Starsky had found
      enough energy to get out of the house and enjoy the
      sunny afternoon with his date.

      Hutch considered his options. He could try to
      just forget about it, and wait until the next day when
      he would see a well-rested Starsky at work. He
      dismissed that idea immediately, knowing that it would
      be impossible to relax himself for the rest of the day
      until he knew his partner was all right. Or he could
      keep trying to call Starsky every hour until he
      answered-if he ever did. That would be the logical
      choice, and the one by which he ran no risk of
      irritating his friend by hovering too closely. But if
      Starsky couldn't hear the phone ring, that would put
      Hutch in no better position than he would be if he sat
      still and did nothing.

      His other choice was to drive over to Starsky's
      apartment and wait for him to come home. Hutch
      weighed the relief he would get from doing that
      against the possibility of Starsky's anger at being
      disturbed. For all that Starsky insisted that he was
      recovering just fine, Hutch knew that he was still, in
      many ways, physically and emotionally drained and was
      liable to take even a well-meant visit as an
      intrusion.

      Finally, Hutch stood up and reached for his car
      keys. Almost a decade into their rela�tionship, and
      having survived other crises of this magnitude, he
      knew that Starsky would even�tually come around and
      understand his need to meddle.


      To find out what happens, get this great zine!
      SEASONED TIMBER 3 now available at Agent With Style's
      webpage (www.agentwithstyle.com).


      Dozens of fandoms. Thousands of zines.
      Check us out! www.agentwithstyle.com
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