Somebody should be here.
Goodbye shack. For now.
Grasslands here we come.
“I don’t think the creature was a possum,” Gabby modified later in after-vision shocks. “Nor was it a cat named Peepee. Something else. Something in our future.”
“Go on,” urged Brother Amos, back to gathering as if his life depended on it. Because it did.
“I’m seeing… I’m seeing…” He briefly pulled up from his own gathering position. “*Seed*.”
“Tillie, we’re out of seed. Time to call Grasslands again.”
“Okay,” the 4 colored clown replies from the garden. “I’ll ring them up as soon as I finish weeding this row.” As if my life depended on it, she then thought. Strange — why did I think that?
“Well Gabby,” requested Brother Amos, “What do you see? Unfurl the whole long, boring story of how we got here and where we’re going.”
“Yeah,” exclaimed Marilyn in her breathy, ditzy way. “The fire is, *raging* out of con-trol; the earth is, *swamping* us alll…”
“I’m seeing something,” gabbed Gabby suddenly. “2 more; 4 total. A teal figure. Some kind of… creature. And the 4 colored clown. Um, *stumpy*, not as tall as a normal person. But much larger than the creature still.” He pulled his white face away from the scrying ball. “A possum I’m concluding. A clown and a possum.”
“*That’s* our, *fu-ture*?” cooed Marilyn. Warhole across the way pounded one iron fist into another, obviously displeased. “Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn,” he monotoned. “Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn… Marilyn.”
Amos Truth kept making his sacks for the seeds and trying to ignore the heat.
The local fire extinguishers had long run dry.
The pineapple forest remained safe for now thanks to the intermediary Tall House.
This side of Route 8 was on fire.
“Hurry up, Brother Gabby. Not much more time for gathering.”
“I hear ya, Brother Amos. I hear ya loud and clear.”
Gabby then goes on to repeat the very long story about how Earth had already taken over the town across the road, ending with, “Where’s Air? Where’s Water? pheh. Only a matter of time if you ask me.”
In town, Betty, Carolyn, Marilyn, and Boop tried to keep soiled stains out of their clothes to no avail.
Toppsity was pretty much inundated.
When Tillie was feeling a little gaseous (which was fairly often), she’d sometimes go down to this bench by the water’s edge so as not to bother Tealy, who was always hard at work around the cottage doing house chores, gardening, and not what. Tillie was lazier by nature, a dreamer. She’d see things in the Rubisea water. Nymphs sometimes. Fish — but that was just because there were fish in the lake. Then a sea monster one time, but she was on some weird kind of dope. She said it was for her stomach, but really it fell under recreational usage. She’d taken the same stuff 4 times now, and decided to stop when the water and the accompanying feeder stream (now just a waterfall, where in past times it was a full stream) turned blood red. Tasted like blood too after she dared to dab a tiny bit on her tongue. Rubisea — the name comes from ruby, like the ruby color of blood. Nasty Branch was the name of the feeder stream. She’d merely revealed the past behind the present through the drug. But no more.
She was feeling better now. She would return to the house and help Tealy with whatever he was doing at the moment. They were a team, but sometimes Tillie had to do her own thing for a while, drugs included. Tealy had never taken drugs, but he drank like a drunken sailor. So they each had their vices. Oh, and Tealy flew airplanes. He was an ace of the First World-Wide Web War (WWWWI).
“Hand me that (hand) spade please, Tillie,” a drunken Tealy requested to his partner after she reentered their home. “I have a feeling that diamond is there for the taking today.” Oh, and he was a prospector of sorts. Or at least for one particular mineral, a gem he’d personally named Jim. “Gotta go dig for Jim,” he might say randomly during any period of intoxication. “Jim’s beckoning me today; I can feel it in my heart.” He even started a Jim Club composed only of himself, but, formerly, Tillie. For she admitted — probably when she was on some kind of dope, because she would never be so insensitive straight — that Jim was imaginary, and represented his own, lost soul. Member no more.
(to be continued?)
“Gee, dad. You’re driving especially fast today. Um…”
“You just hold onto that lime, son. That’s an important part of your school presentation today.”
“I know,” he recites indifferently. “World of Lemon; Lime World. Contrast between the two. Blah blah blah, pheh.”
“Hold on, son. Another curve. Wheeeee!”
“Gosh dad, your cap blew off on that one. And your hair’s all poofed up and spiky too.”👍
“Never mind that, son.” SCREEEEEEECH. “We’re here. “Rooster Springs Backwoods Middle School. Where you’re in the middle…”
“I know, I know,” Preston recites mechanically again in the pause. “… which is (and his dad joins in here) unfortunately in the way.”
Preston gets out, peers cautiously at the school front door for potential allies and foes. “See you soon, kid.” Then he was gone in a whirlwind of burnt rubber and skid marks.
As you can see, Commander Blue Bear Y, this so-called *Real* World is interfering with our examination of the continent. In my opinion, it must be *destroyed*. What say you, Preston Weston of the Far Reaches?”
“I can do it right now with my zapper gun. Ka-BLAM!”
“No,” spoke Blue Bear Y in a calmer, rational voice. “Both can co-exist in the same space with each other. We are at the ‘N’, which was always suppose to be.” He points upward, toward the Earth. “Continents there, too. South America, Africa, Eurasia, some others I can’t remember. Austria I believe.”
“Ka-POW!” Preston Weston of the Far Reaches emphasizes.
“No,” repeats the commander, motioning for PWotFR to lower his weapon of mass destruction. “We will instead superimpose the two.” He looks upward again. “Let’s see, Africa corresponds more to the continent we are examining.” He keeps looking at the spinning sphere. “No, I believe South America would be a better match.”
“Africa,” states Preston Weston. “Let me at ’em.”
“If I may interject,” requests King Null, in pieces himself and not fully conscious of what he was before, “I’d say (the Real World) is backwards from the Second one we are currently trapped in — er existing in.”
“Trapped??” asks Preston Weston, aiming his gun at nothing now.
“No, that was a slip. Excuse me Lord Commander Blue Bear Y. I must check on the chicken. It should be almost broiled by now.”
“Of course,” Blue Bear Y said in that calm, cool voice of his. So compact and educated he was. Someday… someday…
Your Mama entered the command room, Raggy Too in tow. “Your Papa should be arriving any minute Preston. Why – aren’t – you – DRESSED??”
“The jellyfish has eaten the lion.”
“You need to STOP it, Preston.”
He stirred his spoon randomly in his bowl. “Mama. Can I go out? I know it’s raining…”
“Preston. You can go out when it stops raining. This afternoon sometime. Now eat your cereal. I have to go to the women’s club today and you have to look after your little sister Robin.”
“No ‘awww’s, young man. Suck it up and eat the cereal.”
Cereal, he suddenly thought. Circles! Cereal circles. Two of them. But where? How? The jellyfish ate the lion.
“Spongebub Squarepants” was playing on the tv. Robin’s favorite show. Baby Jane was too little to have a favorite show. But of course Jane would go with mama. Too small for him to take care of. But Robin — unfortunately — was just big enough now. He had a new responsibility and he didn’t like it.
But the dreams. He could always withdraw into the dreams when things get boring here. Robin is small — *tiny*. She’s riding on the edge of a car with a madman at the helm, spinning and turning and spinning and turning. She wears a big R on her blouse. She’s happy, carefree. ‘Wheeeee!’ But then there’s the giant baby reaching into the tv, grabbing her off the car’s edge like King Kong to Fae Ray. Did I get those names right? He’d watched that movie last year. Empire State Building. He wants to go visit now. See where the monkey hung off the side of the building. Visit the top where he made his final stand against the fleet of attacking airplanes. *He* is King Kong. He’s being attacked from all sides, “wrrr! wrrr! wrrRR!!”