Rutherford “Booger” Hayes, the stubbiest US president, enjoying a corndog at his Mouse Island retreat in Lake Erie.
“Some say he even terraformed the island to be shaped like a corndog, Hucka D. It was his favorite favorite food.”
“It was at this island that the Pact was made, baker b.,” answered Hucka D. back. “He was told about the book. And Arkansas.”
“That Arkansas controlled all because it was the center,” I returned. For I was baker b.
“The book had yet to be written.”
“He was told of Norris at that time,” I said. For Hucka D. and I were on the same wavelength again. “Norris was not even yet out of law school. But he was told. He was told Norris would go to Beaver City, Nebraska, foretelling of his creation of dams later on, including Wheeler and Wilson, the first two to go.”
“My turn,” replied Hucka D. The Bee. He looked around the room we were in with his goofy eyes. We were at the Mouse Island lodge. A caravan was approaching. “Here’s Booger himself.”
Booger walked in the door. The top of his head was at my waist. He was about the same height as Hucka D., however. They stared eye to eye, perhaps kindred souls of some sort even. “So what of Spider?” I asked him.
“Webb?” he replied. He waved his free hand in the air. “Codes. Bargains. It was all so complicated. I didn’t have the pineapple open. I couldn’t tell what was going on. I’m not a Dumb Man either.”
“Were you told of the beginnings of Second Life?” I asked, knowing that a virtual film based on the Sherwood Anderson short story made up the first Second Life related post of this blog.
“Yes,” came the short and simple answer. “But how could I know what I was looking at?” Booger stared up at me and then levelly at Hucka D. Hucka D. looked at me. The stubbiness before me was a little disconcerting. Maybe I’ll edit that sentence later.
“He was shown that very same film (!)” I then exclaimed to Hucka D., after the lodge had vanished and we were back in the present.
“Yes,” came his answer. The background was now the familiar white. I liked it. “He was told that a man from Sandusky would make this story which would be made into this film. But the film is from another reality. He then was told of the 12 Oz Mouse codes, and R110. He was told how to terraform his beloved Mouse Island to be shaped like a corndog for future generations to see and admire. He took the island into Second Life, terraformed it, and then brought it back to this life — Real Life. Then he made — or was told how to make — duplicate islands to be planted all over the world to lead back to this central island. Baker’s Island that begins the whole Baker Blinker Blog is an example. Block Island of Rhode Island is an example[ for the Baker Bloch Blog, aka Frank and Herman Einstein]. Certain clues would be laid out. Rock cairns would play a part.”
“Thanks for that information, Hucka D.,” I said. He smiled. He went to the shelf and removed a red book. Small — no title on the spine or on the front. He opened to page 156.
Noticing this I said, “I’ve already received that message.”
“Received it more,” he came back levelly. He continued to flip through it. “Have you read about Drink Lake yet? Fascinating. You know Lisa the Vegetarian was given Hand Lake and then decided to expand it through this book. The book is the father. Norris was a father; Anderson was a father. Together they created a memory pool of Sandusky County and Clyde extending almost from the years 1860 to 1900, a two score. Booger was told of this.
“There are 2 books,” I conjectured. “One by Anderson and then one by Anderson with an extra ‘s’.”
“We do not need to talk about that,” replied Hucka D. “Just know it and be done. You have reached this point. We are talking together now. We have taken another step.”
“So I take this book, chop it up in virtual reality — Second Life — and then bring it back to this blog, so to speak.”
“Yes,” said Hucka D. matter-of-factly. He replaced the book on the shelf. The shelf faded from view. Whiteness again.
We sat in silence for a bit.
“I suppose he was also told of Hays County Texas then.” Hucka D. started whistling and staring up in the air instead of answering me. “Removing the “e”,” I then said more to myself, for I felt Hucka D. was “away” I’ll say. “Where was the “e” taken?” I had to ask. “Chilbo? Could it be Chilbo?”
