Hucka D.:
Crim cram. Blippy.
bb:
Am I interrupting something, Hucka D.?
Hucka D.:
We’ve known for years. We’ve walked past it hundreds of times, maybe thousands.
bb:
Yes, I know. I must ask the obvious question up front.
Hucka D.:
Is it yours? Not really. Is it alien? Perhaps!
bb:
An alien child.
Hucka D.:
How long have the aliens been living in Frank Park? They have had access to that road a long time. The road the alien baby was created along. Perhaps.
bb:
Much more likely that it was a racial mix.
Hucka D.:
If you wish. If it comforts. But it doesn’t explain why the aliens are here *now*. Why they are attempting to communicate with you. You find this thing for a reason at this time. It is Heads and it is Foote. White County.
bb:
I’m thinking it’s more like this… can you see?
Hucka D.:
Square little fellow and all. Is that what you think?
bb:
It’s not impossible. We know that aliens are around. Hybrids.
Hucka D.:
Yes.
Hucka D.:
You’re never going to know what’s in it. So you must treat it as an archetype. It is Heads and it is Foote. Coins. Seale (pause). Seal.
bb:
What of the Land of Blue and Purple?
Hucka D.:
Spin-off. Another hybrid. Rock again. Totem. Juxtapose. You’re not going to find the answers the conventional way.
bb:
Thank you.
Hucka D.:
You’re welcome. You must take it as it is.
Sunklands 