Tag Archives: Hucka Doobie^^++@%%

March 6, 2026 · 3:13 pm

00490511 (cleansed 02)

Stop, smell the roses.

Good, isn’t it?

But the smell of the hotel beneath it wouldn’t go away. The loop still exists: Violet Hope, the 1923 vampire who lived at least 100 more years. Can Can Girl, with a second head now emerging from the first thanks to the magic of instant collage, no mirroring required. Barry de Boy decides to created his “Does This Look Square to You?” series because of its reduced 814 x 814 pixel dimensions, becoming the second entry of the bunch which started with this…

… and currently finishes up with this, its third and perhaps the last personal collage, period, a good place to terminate the overall process (?):

1-2-3, with 24 x 24 miles square Newton County MS and 13 x 13 multi-colored square The Atom also in the mix somewhere, at least behind the scenes. Back to the hotel…

“I’m finished, Hucka! You can come in now!” Wait!! Why did I say that?? I’m disgusting!!!

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March 4, 2026 · 7:05 am

00490509 (Violet)

She got tired of waiting for her alternate self to grow up — understandably, because it could take *decades*. She decides to do some investigating on her own about the subject. Shamon. From the inn. Place of thorns. Not much of an inn aspect left to the place — no beds as far as she could tell. More a museum for the lower floors, she supposed. And then she found the letter in the middle of an antique book just chosen at random from a first floor bookcase. Hmm, she thought, separating the 2 pieces of paper from each other and laying them side by side. What’s this? She started reading. She read it over again. Plain it was at first to her. Mundane, run of the mill, no special qualities at all. A journal entry by someone named June about a trip across the western part of our US of A. Then she read it again. And again. And again, starting to put the 2 sides together to make 1; actually, let’s make that she simply eliminated the second to make one. Here’s what she had left…

Dear Dairy,

We’re finally in Missouri! Almost home! Bryan was so exhausted with today’s drive that we decided to have a sleepover at a cheap motel off Route 66. Madry Wise it’s called and the owners Martha and Theodore are just adorable! They welcomed us with open arms and invited us for dinner so we can share our Route 66 road trip experience with them. Bryan is just having a little nap and we’ll go once he wakes up.

I can’t believe how lucky I am. It’s been the best summer ever!!! Two weeks ago we started the journey from Santa Monica, CA and went through several states through Barstow, Kingman, Sedona, Winslow, Monument Valley, Durango, Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Roswell, Amarillo, Oklahoma City until now Missouri.

So that’s all of page 1. She checked all the mentioned locations from its last sentence on a map. Santa Monica, Barstow, Kingman, Sedona, Winslow: yes, everything to this point was on Route 66 or, in Sedona’s case, quite close, only about 25 miles away. But June and her boyfriend Bryan start to veer away from that famous highway after Winslow AZ and only clearly pick it up again at Amarillo TX. In other words, June may not have even used 66 through the whole of New Mexico, going from Durango CO down to Santa Fe then Albuquerque then Roswell to its south before heading back up to Texas. *Crossing* 66 in Albuquerque but not necessarily travelling along it. While pondering this, Shelley Johnston Struthers realized, if so, that another motel might have been visited on the journey between Albuquerque and Roswell. Was this what was being implied all along?? Fictional Madry Wise Motel actually standing in for the most haunted hotel in America?

They should have never left some of the swastikas on the building because photos can be flipped and time reversed along with it. 1923: not that far away, then, not far atall.

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February 6, 2026 · 9:11 am

00490310 (the truth)

“It’s suppose to be a representation of the Red Room from Twin Peaks but, as you can see, it’s not quite finished yet. Gotta get that zig zag black and white texture for the floor… and so on.”

“Really nice, Wheeler,” I say, wondering again why she hadn’t shown me this before. “And the painting — I assume it is a duplicate of the one over in Salty’s, in the old storage area behind the cooking section.”

“Or the same,” Wheeler answers. “Maybe this painting is in the past and the one over at Salty’s is more in the future. Or visa versa. Depends on if Arthur is still tied up over there. And I think he might, making this the, um, future?” She looks over at me. “But you’re not Arthur. And we haven’t made a deal yet. Better get over there, then.”

“Okay,” I said to end things here. Because I was never really here without her. I wanted to talk about the old core of avatars and her role in it. Baker Bloch — me, in essence — came before Wheeler. Baker Blinker came before her. Baker Blinker is more me than her. And then Hucka Doobie came along to make an original three. Hucka Doobie is of course the spiritual guide for the blog and attached photo-novels as a whole, although she hasn’t been in the recent ones as much. That might change. Then there’s Karoz, kind of my blue-green alien brother, if I am the same as Baker Bloch which I mostly am (Whitehead in Da Woods). Then and only then manifested Wheeler, and, at first, she wasn’t who she is today. All that changed with the photo-novels, 2 if not 1. She came… in 2. All the rest were there long before even 1. She was the last who became the first. Arkansaw.

But we never got around to that discussion.

I watched her disappear up the stairs and then I did too.

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January 19, 2026 · 7:10 pm

00490208

“We love you, baker b.!

“And we want you to come home too!”

“Not for a while, Mother, Father.” And so we, I, continue… The last of my kind.

Besides, these aren’t really my shared little world parents. I saw the unequal love since almost the beginning, one in the air, the other not.

Rock beats Paper because it possesses Scissors, a depravity of what was suppose to be a round and round and round, fair deal situation.

And with the examination and usage of this sculpture menagerie replacing my original one coming from Newbank/Newbrooke, I think I might be done with the Bellisaria series of continents as a whole for a while, however which way you spell it. Other places to examine. Like Paperville.

—–

Peter Oesso, clothes back on and red rose dreams finally ended, sits at a table drinking espresso to match the returned t-shirt, waiting on…

She remembered.

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August 22, 2025 · 9:36 am

00470609

“It just BLEW UP. I was staring right at it. And it just POOOOOPH.”

“We could have been on that boat, Marion,” says Hucka. “We could have been blown up too!”

“Blown up *real* good,” added Philip from the couch.

Nada and Lexi walk in from the back. “We heard the explosion!” says Nada. “What happened?”

“Newt’s sim skipping ship blew up that’s what happened,” uttered Marion, still reeling from the shock. How are they going to get, well, to wherever they were going *now*?

“Good,” says Philip, producing stares from all.

“Newton’s probably *dead*, Philip,” says Marion. “Now no brothers in the Orange family are left. What of poor Mama Mitchell?”

“Welll, how old is she? Is she, you know, too old to have kids now? What, you know, I’m saying is that they can be replaced. Maybe.”

“NOT the point, Philip. A man is dead. His hard work has been destroyed too. We’ll never get another one like that.”

“You know,” said Hucka. “Philip might be right. Oh, not about Newton being dispensable of course but us leaving. Maybe it’s good we’re not able to leave now. Philip… you have your opium plants. And Marion, you have your pot field.”

“It’s *both* our field,” says Philip. “But… go on… *I’m* at least listening.”

“And what about Phil?” she says, confusing all.

“I’m right here.”

“No not you Phil-IP. Phil. With no -ip at the end. Down at the Rhino. We’re suppose to talk to him. Maybe he can’t be communicated with at any other location.”

“Possibly,” allows Marion, also wondering about all the aspects of “we” she mentioned.

“Hey Marion,” asks Philip out of left field, suddenly remembering a glimmer of something else in all the excitement. “Whatever happened to that girl we were with? You know, the shape shifter. Helen I believe. Hermania.”

“Heidi,” spoke Marion from the window. “Heidi Hunt Ives.” Every Blue Moon Philip brings her up. And then promptly forgets again.

“Yeah… her.”

Marion didn’t answer because he knew she was at the bottom of a sea too, just like Newton’s sunken vessel out there. Our stolen “Little Bug.” Tears come to his eyes as he watches the still lingering smoke from the explosion drift around the bay. He tried to save her, he really did. He rationalizes he did the best he could… working by himself. If only Philip could have helped.


“I’m coming Little Bug!” **leap**

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August 21, 2025 · 8:00 pm

00470608

“Atomic energy,” Newt theorizes about the main way Gaston’s Newton revamped his now deceased older brother Stewart’s sim skipping ship. “Put it at the end of Barry De Boy’s ‘Does This Look Square to You?’ series. Claimed to be named for Isaac Newton but Jasper County’s right below and so instead it should be John.”

“John Newton, twin sergeant to William Jasper during the Battle of Ft. Moutrie in the Civil War,” Newt’s ever-partner Wheeler says more to the reader than anyone, since Newt knows all that. “And Newton County MS being the only county in the state that’s totally square. One Mississippi, two Mississippi — woops. Forgot the zero (!)”

“You finished?” Newt asks from the sacred ottoman under the sacred 4 colors add 4 more. Staring at giant versions of bread and milk on a big tin of perhaps choco chip cookies. Wheeler from the now not as sacred couch was staring at it too.

“Yeah. You go now.”

“I go now,” accepted Newt. “Wellll… we have a problem, a conundrum. We have Marion, Hucka, Philip, Nada, Lexi and probably Greg coming to Nawt Vaya here through that sim skipping ship.”

“Yeah? What’s the problem? They’re *here*. All of them. Except Marion and Hucka it seems.”

“But–”

“No butts. Continue.”

(to be continued)

“OH, I remember what we were going to talk about. This *couch*. And the bread and milk. And the whole location for Crooked.”

“Yeah,” says Newt. “Is this room, this building, actually here in Nawt Vaya, or is it over in Gaston? Could be both of course. But, what I’m asking is…”

“… which one’s more real?”

(to be continued)

“More real there.” Newt pauses. “Did I just skip over the end of the post?

—–

The couch is more comfortable and has more animations.

The bread and milk are normal sized.

The room has more character.

More real there, yeah. We continue….

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August 18, 2025 · 9:02 pm

00470607

“You don’t understand, Philip,” spoke Marion Star Harding, perhaps his only friend in the world if you don’t count new-ish girlfriend Nada — *maybe* on that one, along with the whole girlfriend aspect actually. Maybe they’re just quote unquote friends too. “We have a chance to escape,” his friend here says, his partner in crime perhaps not presently but certainly in the past. “Turns out Newton knows a lot more than his brother Stewart about sim jumping and maintaining a ship to do such. I miss Stewart mind you but maybe it was all for the best that water—” Marion stopped here, realized he was being very insensitive in the moment. The death by unexpected and unpredictable sea funnel came only 2 weeks ago, suck suck GONE. “Anyway — Philip — what you say? I’ll bring Hucka Doobie obviously — we’re totally solid now in our relationship and I’m sure that she’d go where I go. And Nada — maybe the same? There’s room on the ship for her anyway.”

“She has a new *girlfriend*,” he spat out from the couch. “Iiii don’t think she’ll want to be going *anywhere*, not with *Lexi* around.”

“Now now, Philip,” said Marion turning toward him from the window and breaking off his loving gaze at Newton’s revamped beauty floating out there in the bay. “I’m sure they’re just friend friends.” Maybe like you and Nada, he thought, but kept to himself. “Anyway, she — Lexi — can go too. There’s room for 7 total people, Newton indicated to me just yesterday, an upgrade from 5 for the old version. Let’s see, that’s Newton the skipper, me, you, Hucka, Nada, and, yeah, there’s definitely room for Lexi. And even one more. Maybe that Greg artist fellow we chat with occasionally around town. He seems to be as eager to leave this cursed place as we are.”

“*You* are,” said Philip, not so sure about these big, new plans of Marion’s. He’d like to have the relationship more resolved with Nada before he commits to such a thing. Plus he has his pot field in back of Doug’s Money Laundering Mat. And his pots of opium plants atop the Nimble Thimble dance club. He can’t take all *that* with him.

“We’ll get you some more pot fields, some more opium plants,” Marion said to this when he raised his concerns. “We’ll make sure we go to — or settle down in — a place where all that is still legal.”

“*Here*,” Philip declares, putting his foot down in the place he’s suddenly decided to stay.

“Talk to Nada,” urges Marion. “*Then* make a decision.” I’ll talk to Greg myself, he also decides on his own. No use to bring Philip’s negativity along for that one.

(to be continued)

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June 4, 2025 · 3:10 pm

00470115

“Oh shoot, Hucka,” Marion says at the door, peering in. “No seats together left up front. We’ll have to sit on the couch further away from the stage.”

“Fine with me!” she responded, knowing the hips did their job on the way over. They’d pay more attention to cuddling than comedy this night fer sure. Besides, they watch this act every Wednesday rain or shine, know every line that’s going to be uttered. Firesign Theatre: the house group at Gaston’s downtown Rhino. Unless it’s uptown. We’ll see.

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June 3, 2025 · 8:56 am

00470114 (bulletproof)

“‘How can you not hear it?’ he might say to me in frustration. ‘Are you *deaf*?'”

“I say, ‘your work is an impenetrable sphere, reflections all around but not from itself.’ Here:”

“That’s a great story, baker b.,” Hucka said, looking at the mirror ball he pulled up on his monitor. “It really is. But I must buzz off elsewhere to use the old nomenclature.”

“Okay, alright. *Bye* I guess,” I say as I watch her — or him — fly away into the blue blue skies. Hucka D. the Bee showed up again after so long only to leave so quickly!

—–

“He thinks I’ve reverted to bee form, Marion. I, of course, haven’t.”

“No you *haven’t*,” expresses Marion Star Harding, taking all her womanhood in from top to bottom from his seat opposite her at the Welcome to Mimosa tavern, sign lost in the Great Wind Storm of ’02 (“The Great Blow”). No antennae even, now. “Why?” he had to ask.

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s trying so hard to understand the various creators lining up around him now, sees the parallels to them in himself; alternate paths.” I want to keep him productive, was the underlying meaning.

“You’re a fine woman,” Marion said to this. “Very fine. Now let’s walk over to the Rhino and see that comedy group again we so love.”

“You first,” she said with a sly smile.

“No, *you* this time, he he.”

“Alright.” And she got up, wondering if she had the hang of swinging her hips properly. Would this be the last vestige of her bee self and the awkward duck walk showing up? Turns out it wasn’t — she did fine. Very fine. Marion looked on in pleasure and happiness the whole 3 blocks over.

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June 3, 2025 · 6:47 am

00470113

“The 420 folder is getting too full, baker b.”

“Hucka!”

“In the exoskeleton!”

“The Atom is part of the CHRO system, which is pronounced like Crow,” she begins. “Someone had to exhibit at the Red Arrow for all this to surface again. And then there’s the ROCKSTAR direction — always the ROCKSTAR direction now.” She paused to wipe some pollen from her mouth. Hucka D. Was he even a she now?? “You went back to Red Row, found nada. Not even the bird-dog conjunction. Something had shifted. Something had, indeed, been removed.”

“The dog.”

“Actually the bird but we can assume that means the dog. As in, the dog was never highlighted (by the bird) in the first place. Nothing to be removed. No Spider.” She paused. “You’ll figure it out,” she reassured, a seemingly innocuous statement that surprisingly irritated me.

“Can I see you? Can I see where we are?”

“The maps rise up to meet you,” she then stated.

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