Corsican Collagesity 03

“I wanted to bring you here, Hucka Doobie, to show you where John and I use to meet to go to our various hangouts. Before he became — well, you know now.”

“Solid lime green,” responded Hucka, recalling the meeting. “Lemon”.

“Yeah, the whole *blurring* of the n’s. Like we can’t see properly. And we *can’t*. John is lost to me. But *here*. We could go back…”

“To go back is to die, Marty,” the resident Sunklands blog spirit offered to this.

“Yeah. I suppose.” Marty looked around. “Smells so fresh here after a pouring rain. This is where I also became the Fireman. In short: I want to help.” He stared straight at Hucka Doobie here.

“The Table.”

“Yes!”

—–

“I suppose it makes sense,” replied Baker Bloch later to Hucka Doobie sitting at the same. “He *does* live here after all. He’s just a skip and a beat away. Lemon can’t come, though.”

“Oh no,” states Hucka Doobie. “He has a, well, he has a hole in the middle that can’t be filled. Property of a *witch*.”

“Now Hucka, you know we can’t say that here.”

“*We* — just did.”

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