So we decided to make a pact and go to The Gatekeeper for bee drinks every Thursday. Then Hucka D. remembered that was bowling night with his pals. “Tuesday, then”, I offered. “Okay,” he said, then remembered the “You Too Can Bea a Beetle” on the insect channel came on at 9 on Tuesday, so he had to beg off again. “When *are* you available?” He looked through his appointment book as I secretly wondered if he was the star of the Beetle show. I ask him. He laughed. I said I didn’t believe a show like that existed. He sneered. “You don’t believe a lot of things about me, what I say.” I said yes, and that’s for good reason. He got up off the couch we were sitting on, springs wore out — too much TV watching. We watched ourselves.
“How powerful is this mountain?” “Powerful,” he replied. “You don’t know.” We were watching ourselves again. I had on an orange jumpsuit. Lisa showed up in back. “Ask her,” he said. “Hi Lisa.” I waved. She waved back. On the table in front of us were battle plans. I noticed the unnamed creek. I asked Lisa about it. “That’s [unpronouncable name]”. “What’s that again?” “[Unpronouncable name]”. “Hmm,” I said. “That’s going to have to be shorted.” She said she didn’t recommend Bob. Hucka D. laughed and agreed, saying I like to name everything Bob that I don’t understand well. So I decided to defy them and name the creek Bob. Then I laughed and said I was joking and that I would think of another name, perhaps not quickly but another name still it would be. Hucka D. said “Joe”. Lisa offered “Pete”. “Bing”, I said. “Short for something. Bing.”
… I wanted to ask Hucka D. about the new stream, the unnamed stream (James Henry? Henry James?) and the power point. Not the Wedge but the one across the road from that one, I explained when he showed up. He became very interested when I told him I had been there today and had bypassed simply hiking up the creek again and gone up the ridges to the west and approached the stream further up from that direction. “You can’t do that,” he said, and snickered, another hidden joke. His father would probably get it. I knew that I was scarily close to the edge of the Lost Valley today, and knew I would certainly be lost if I descended into it. Luckily I knew the stream and where I was. If not, I could have been truly lost. I would not be dead now, most likely, but trapped in the woods at night with temperatures in the 30s perhaps would not have been a good situation. I would have survived. Hucka D. snickered again as I told him all this — “Of course we’re not going to let that happen to you,” he said. I asked if Lisa was a part of that “we” he mentioned, and he said yes. I ask him did he have a specific reason for going back to his dad in Kentucky and he said just to visit, nothing more. Nothing at all. Of course he was not telling the full truth. Was he?
… not being totally honest with Tin S. Man, Hucka D.”
You mean Wallace3 isn’t. That’s okay. He’s not being totally honest with you. Or she.
I invoke the 3333 protective circle, then.
As you wish.
So Hucka D. went away for a spell and had a couple of drinks at The Gatekeeper before heading away across the land, across the sea, to Kentucky where he was born and his father still lived, so they say. So he says. And the father laughed with him and said his mother was doing well and that she still loved him and loved both of them and he was happy and they exchanged honey recipes and he came back to Wealthy Mtn. to tell me all about his Kentucky visit, because I was still there as Wallace3, with Tin S. Man. So he forgot all about the 3333 protect[or]ate being formed and realized that Tin S. Man was sealed inside Tinsity and we couldn’t get to him now. So we went to Lisa and she said, in hypertime, that this had to occur, this is how it was meant to be, get use to it in the here and now, and to work on rainbowology, *her* rainbowology. So I thought again that Lisa might be Ozma true ruler of Oz even though she said she wasn’t. “Alma?” I asked. “No,” she said again. And that was it; we went away from Lisa and went back to the sealed Tinsity and checked on Tin S. Man and waved to him but he was engrossed in digging that darn hole. The hole I dug so many years ago as well. “How long was it, Hucka D.?” Not here. Okay, so…