Dixon was having that dream again about tubes…
… and tentacles…
… and roads upon roads upon roads to flee upon.
A true nightmare this was.
We pick up the treasure hunting trail of Dixon Too a little beyond where we last saw his brother Dixon One. Phillip’s ultra-thick stand of Linden trees protected Young Duncan from detection once more. Snowwhite’s not going to be happy.
Ignoring a couple of local yokels to his right, he checks out one of those primitive bamboo planes the Durexians use these days. “Bombed them back to the Stone Age we did,” he mutters proudly, again wondering how his life might have changed if he’d joined the Trojan air force instead of the army. “Well, not quite but good enough.”
He turns toward the gorilla and the caged man. “You hear that over there!” he called defiantly. “Close enough to do the job!” No answer.
He looked back at Highway 8 bending into the heart of Mountain Country. Better move on, he thinks. Put some distance between him and this backwards spot before darkness hits.
About 200 meters directly north, the actual treasure location remains unseen.
It seemed like the only form left for her. Back to the drawing board after this. She rehearsed the ending wedding in her head. Takes place on this very spot.
“Do you take Dixon for your newly minted husband, to honor and obey until derezzing do you part?”
“I now pronounce you cousin, er, *husband* and wife.” She pictures the crowd laughing with this little “mistake”, purposely inserted into the vows by Reverend Jimmy Buffee, a long time Snowwhite admirer and a bit jealous of the proceedings. Both Dixons were her cousins, true, but soon one would be more. And Aunt Emerald soon to be the mother-in-law, whichever. Maw.
“You may kiss the dazzling bride.”
Snowwhite kisses the air in front of her. Several fluttering birds, some yellow, some more mutely colored, look on. She imagines them, as a group, holding up the wedding dress train behind her as she walks north through the green meadow to these two central trees and her husband-to-be, with the even more central sakura weeping cherry just behind, almost as brilliant white as herself and about as tall.
Life is good in the centre of it all.
“Okay, I’m just going to start with the red and work from there. Hold *still*, please.”
“Sorry. I was just trying to unstick my arm from this skirt.”
“Let it go. It’s fine. Your skirt’s just poofing out too much for the animation. I’ve already worked it into the picture. Just calm down.”
“I should be telling *you* that.” She let him paint in peace for a while. She watched him exchange red for yellow, then yellow for blue. The tube of Winsor and Newton Permanent Green had been left behind in Middletown. This wasn’t an oil painting.
“How… how long are we going to stay here with your hick family, ex of mine?” she finally said to break the silence. Blue was done. She stared at his quickly drying brush. “I suppose Mr. Babyface is long overdue for being oiled up, haha.”
“Aunt Emerald asked me here for the wedding. She said it shouldn’t be long before we know which Dixon was involved. I thought it would be a good excuse to get away from you-know-who.”
“Mr. Green,” Supergal Flo said, nodding, thinking of the monster.
“Yeah. And reconnect with you for a bit. Aunt Emerald insisted. She said, be sure to bring that red, yellow, and blue gal of yours. So we’re throwing her off, along with the others. Best they don’t know about Gregg with the extra ‘g’, see. The rogue relation.”
“Good idea. So… we’re trapped here.”
“Until the wedding, yeah. Snowwhite will choose soon enough, though.”
Interesting he’s never painted his sister, Supergal Flo realized about her ex as he cleaned his brush. All gleaming white with no color atall. What’s the point, I suppose.
“Let me see.”
“God help our user Baker B. to finish up part 06 of this Collagesity graphic novel. God help Dixon Too find Dixon One and bring him home safe from the mountain darkness. God help Brother Oden’s possession and make it easier on him by intense — intensi-fying his artistic talents. And last (Snowwhite Well stares over), God help Aunt Emerald to find the courage to carry on despite over*whelming* odds.” Snowflake Well unclasps her hands, proudly rises from the prayer ottoman. “And that’s it, teehee.” She curtsies sweetly with this.
“Please,” a studying Emerald insists. “Call me Maw. One of my boys — maybe both my boys — will soon be your husband, with one or both of their seeds insides ya.”
“I can feel it,” suddenly gasps Snowwhite Well. “From the future!”
“Nice. This town can do that to ya. Horrible urban planning with the split down the middle and all. But there’s advantages to schizophrenia. Don’t do my Dixons no wrong.”
“Maw,” she reinforced. “I can *feel* it.” She rubs her belly, even lifts her top a bit. “Right here in my navel.” She circles her stomach with an index finger. “Is — is it still there? I can’t see in this light.”
“Yes, it’s there,” coos Emerald, not a lesbian but still admiring. “Snowwhite, I’m not sure how Dixon One *ever* left you here with that thing glinting far and wide. He must be blind toward it.”
“And now… Dixon Too must follow. Reborn Duncan must be found and returned to his rightful place. Dixie.”
“Better quarantine you two lovebirds a bit before the departure.”
“And lower your top back.”
Klancaster. Whence he came from. The dirt, the grime. He must cleanse himself in this mountain environment. Forget about Snowwhite Well. Forget about Dixon Too, Maw, Cousin Odie, the rest.
No, this was not the snow peaked mountain of treasure lore he’s on. (Dixon walks across the stone patio.) But he’s *close*. He can feel it. Maybe even that far summit over there hidden behind the tall pines?
*Linden* trees. And in such profusion. He’s never seen so many in one place. He must go check it out!
So thick you can’t see what’s inside. And the property’s banned.
Oh well, Dixon thinks. Moving on.
“One down, one to go, Young Duncan. Hold on.”