1975, Some convention meeting in Oregon

You're kind of a taboo artist in the field as you make your horrifying films and write your little grotesque books and you happen to be attending the convention. You notice all sorts of other writers and film directors. You don't go out much, so it's nice seeing others, especially people who are writers like you. Time passes and you've finished signing and greeting your fans, you pack your stuff ready to leave, and as you near the exit you hear someone call you over, you turn and see a little group of familiar writers, all that 'sci-fi' and 'fantasy' type.

You walk over, and they insist on having you join them in an "after-party."

'Who would consider this place a party enough to throw an after-party?'

You think to yourself, but nod in response cause you don't want to seem like a buzz kill.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ

The so-called "after-party" is surprisingly nice, everyone talking with a person or two, but you just sit in a chair observing the party people. You try not to seem too creepy even though it's not really working. Then, a group of guys join each other on the couches next to where you sit, you can't really figure out what their conversation is about but one of the guys, a short man with glasses whos name is apparently "Harlan Ellison", he seems to be quite passionate about whatever he may be spouting about. They notice you listening in.