Tag Archives: Hucka Doobie

Liz

“It’s a magic book,” states Hucka Doobie to the visiting Librarian, who stopped by for the day. “Just open it to any page and start reading.”

The Librarian does so and reads aloud.

“Martha: Our son does not have blue hair… or blue eyes, for that matter. He has green eyes… like me. George: He has blue eyes Martha.” He looks up.

“See?” explains Hucka Doobie. “There, George and Martha, our Washingtons, our first couple — Adam and Eve — use the illusion of their son as a battlefield for dominance. Ickles.”

“Sonny-Jim?” asks The Librarian, reading further.

“Yeah. I think that’s the name. Unifying factor. Blue-green.”

The Librarian looks on the opposite page. “Who’s Audrey?”

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“Aim” Interpretation

“I have it pulled up over here on the Blue Feather tivi screen,” Hucka Doobie messaged to Baker Bloch.

“Come over here instead,” he messaged back. “Context. I’ll offer you a teleport.”

“Alright,” Hucka Doobie messaged in turn.

—–

“Peculiar room,” said Hucka Doobie, looking around. “Narrow.”

“It’s the GHHI Room. Don’t ask me what that means. Yet.”

“Something to do with the 4 empty sims at the Jeogeot infohub I’m assuming, where trees are ferns. I know the initials.”

“Yeah,” admitted Baker. “So here it is. Here.”

Hucka Doobie turns around and immediately jumps into an examination.

“Your aim is different from Peter SoSo’s. He’s focused on fulfilling the train line. Your own attention veers off to the right here, toward the forgotten waterfall. Aim Falls, we can call it. The Ickles, the two green beings in the collage — one at the bottom of the stairs with what appears to be Jiff (?) and the other to his right, directly below the falls — are aiding you. Yes, I’m getting it. Jiff is also an Ickle, but of a different species. Round head instead of cubic. Multiple expressions; five total. But color sticks… there must be 3 species: red, green, blue. Combined they form pitch perfect expression, a whiteness to douse the black away. Heaven over Earth. Man over woman even, perhaps.” He stops there.

“Well, there’s those little red people to the bottom right, Hucka,” Baker Bloch chipped in. “Right behind and around the wastebasket filled with Rocky’s discarded drafts for his second novel. Maybe they sprang out of the refuge.”

“Refugees,” uttered Hucka Doobie. “Whatever happened to ‘G’? Ginger, wasn’t it? Or was it Tina?”

“If you mean the tender of the bar across the road, she appears to be gone. 4th citizen not here any more.”

“Missing again,” ponders Hucka Doobie. He scans the collage one last time. “Well, it’s pretty obvious. You must aim toward the falls, find out about the 3 Ickle species, and go from there. Jiff must be real again in this novel and have the ability to manifest. The green cubic hulks Rocky also writes about and then discards are obviously Ickle representations as well. He knows them and they know him. So: location location location. 3 of ’em. 3-n-1. ‘Nother one.”

“My line. But: thanks!”

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G.

“Peters found this on the interwebs yesterday and passed it up to us, Tronesisia. We thought you’d like to know about the missing post, er piece.”

“I had a dream about Lambs.”

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Mission 02 03

No one says anything, not knowing if Woody is finished or not. But after about 30 seconds, it’s pretty obvious to all that he’s wrapped up his spiel. Mary takes his place, thanking Woody and the others for their words, then asks if anyone else wants to speak. She looks at Baker Bloch then at Hucka Doobie. Both wave her off, but then Baker felt the need to say, “We appreciate your supreme sacrifice Mary.”

“Then I suppose it’s time.” She turns to the rocket ship. “Goodbye all! I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Goodbye my love!” Pitch cries from the second row. “I know you will. I have faith in the Gods.”

Sobbing, she touches the launcher, then manifests inside the firing capsule. A person was already there. It was George, seated beside her.

He took her hand. “It’s you and me now.”

—–

24 years later…

“Do you not know me?” asked Mary/Chuckles to Sikul Himakt The Musician.

“Of course I do mother.”

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2017 MIDDLE”!

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Mission 02 02

During Pitch’s awkward pause, Wheeler walked across the bridge spanning Central Stream and took the empty seat beside The Librarian. “Hello you total bitch,” he says in a low voice without turning toward her. “Hello you complete bastard,” she answers back, also not looking in his direction. But both share a smile for a few seconds. Fences have been mended.

Mary turns around and whispers to her friend. “Where’ve you been?”

Wheeler holds up “Floydodo” for her to see. “I got involved,” she explains, shaking the book to emphasize what she’d been doing. “Lost track of time, sorry.” She looks toward Pitch. “Is he alright over there? Does he need help?”

“Why don’t you go up and say a few words, Wheeler,” Mary requested. “We’ve both had our turns now. You’re the town general, after all. Whatever you titled yourself.”

“Dictator,” Wheeler proclaims proudly. She stands and walks up to Pitch, then escorts him to the seat she formerly occupied. “Here, hold this for me,” she demands, picking up “Floydodo” and shoving it into his hands. He sits down with it. She returns beside the lamp post before the rocketship where Mary and Pitch had previously spoken.

“Greetings fellow Collagsitians. Wheeler Wilson here, you’re beloved former leader, haha.” Some sour looks appeared amongst the crowd. “Ah, I see we have a couple who disagree. Well, I can’t say I blame you. I was occassionally a bit harsh with some of my orders. But, overall, I think I did a good job.” She pauses. “Let me put this plainly. Your old leader Carrcassonnee will and cannot return. The play or interview form of speaking to each other, between the Bakers, between anyone in this town, has been rendered obsolete. Perch is perched up there in *my* diner.” She points toward the indicated eating establishment to her back and left, behind the rocket launcher from this direction. “So where does that leave us, citizens of Collagesity? We’ve moved forward, yes? We attempted to become assimilated into VHC City. Didn’t work. Baker Bloch here became Pitch became Woody and it all went to hell. Duncan Avocado’s our hope in that direction now. He has emerged from the PCH Forest — has that been mentioned yet?” Baker Bloch nods to her, thinking she means the woods itself and not Duncan’s exit from it. “Okay.” She then points back to the left rear. “What is our focus, then, people? What should be the entire reason for our existence here? Can you guess? What is it?” The crowd looks around at each other, basically wondering what she’s on about. She answers herself. “The *woods*. The *trees*. That’s what this is all about. I personally recommend sealing the whole town up again until Mary returns from a successful Muff-Bermingham trip. I’ve been (myself). I know what she’s up against. There’s power there. Osborne Well still controls. I should know, being a controller myself. And then there’s his children, his twins. Morris and Lou. I know the former but not the latter. But The Musician knows Lou. *Woody* here knows Lou (Woody nods). Having taken on the negative characteristics of her father, Lou is not the best of persons, I’ve heard. She wishes for everyone to dream, to keep asleep. What is reality? she wants everyone to ask, confused about what’s right and left, up and down, east-west. We’ve lost Tronesisia to her. We’ve lost Bendy. I’ve lost my Musician.” She pauses, appearing to wipe a tear forming in her eye, an emotional display especially surprising the several with the sour looks before.

Woody Woodmanson raises his hand. “Excuse me Mrs. Wheeler. Do you mind if I say a couple of words?”

“It’s *Ms. Wilson*,” she says, sniffing. “But, yeah, come on up here Woody. I’ve said my peace.” Woody gets up and Wheeler takes his seat. “Woods, people!” she shouts in emphasis while settling in.

Woody displays awkwardness. “Do I just stand beside this lamp post here? Is this okay?”

“That’s fine, Woody,” comforts Mary from the front row. “Go ahead and speak your mind as well. We have plenty of time. No rush on the launching.”

“Well, okay.” He loudly clears his throat for several seconds. Very high pitch, startling a couple in the crowd, including the already nervous Mary.

“I am… *very* grateful to be here in Collagesity. You cannot know the extent.” He clears his throat again. “I am a refuge of several worlds. My original master, Old Kringles — a lukewarm Santa Claus — use to tell me, ‘Don’t get sick, don’t get sick,’ over and over. It made me sick. I was expelled from his Christmas village. My second master, Luke Purden, owner of a spectacular mountainside castle, gave me better advice. He said, ‘Don’t judge a book by the color of its cover.’ At the time, half of the books I owned were green and the other half white. I always wondered why I preferred reading the white covered books. Then it hit me like a humongous hammer.” Woody hits one wooden hand with the other here. “Someone else was inside me that preferred the *green* colored books. Another Woody.” More throat clearing. “Which brings us to Muff-Bermingham.” Leaning forward intently, he looks in the direction of Wheeler. “I both know Lou very well and don’t know her atall. As such, I can vouch for her decency and honesty. Yes, she wants you to dream, to wonder, to envision the impossible. There’s a village at the bottom of the hill. But there isn’t. But there *is*.” He straightens up. “And that’s all I have to say about all *that*.”

(to be continued)

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Mission 02 01

Because Karoz had put so much work into the rocket ship, the Bakers made sure Mary’s trip to Muff-Bermingham was a bigger affair than Tronesisia’s before her. Most of the town turned out for the event, with the notable exception of Karoz himself, along with mate Baker Blinker. Thing is, the exhausted moss being, working around the clock for the past several days in order to get everything right about the ship, had now come down with a nasty bit of flu, with the female Baker having to tend to him. Also absent was Wheeler.

“Where is she?” asked Mary to Baker Bloch in a loud whisper, disappointed that her clown possessed friend was not present to see her off. Baker just shrugged. “Why don’t you go ahead and start, Mary. I’m sure she’ll be along.”

Composing herself, Mary began. “I’d like to thank everyone for showing up. A special thanks goes out to Karoz Blogger, who couldn’t be with us today due to illness. We wish him a speedy recovery. Without his mastery of scripting, I wouldn’t be standing before you here, about to embark on a mission of utmost importance to a distant corner of our known universe. Collagesity is about to enter a new chapter of existence, another turning point in its already long history of change and evolution. I want to extend a heartfelt gratitude to the whole town for welcoming Pitch and me so readily into its arms, along with fellow newcomer Woody Woodmanson (Woody stands up and bows stiffly). I know that you will, so to speak, hold down the fort while I am away, which shouldn’t be long.”

Mary shuffles her feet, thinking of George, then continues. “As you all know, I’m not the first of our kind to visit this distant planet called Muff-Bermingham.” She clears her throat. “Most immediately, we have Pitch and I’s good friend Tronesisia journeying up to this place only 6 days back. We fear her mission of rescuing fellow robot Bendy has not proceeded as planned. A snag has been hit.” She looks toward Pitch and Baker Bloch for encouragement. “Our best guess… is that they have been separated on opposite sides of this world by malefic forces, Muff for Bendy and Bermingham for Tronesisia. My own mission is to stitch up the involved rift and make Muff-Bermingham whole once and for all. For that to happen, I need to introduce a new element.”

She begins sobbing here. Pitch gets up and continues for her. “Take a seat sweetie and rest for a spell.”

Pitch’s words: “I’d also like to thank the whole community for welcoming us, fellow refuges from the sprawling urban landscape to our northeast called VHC City. A sister city indeed still, firmly straddling The Continental Diagonal which also runs through our marvelous Linden woods to the immediate west and use to cut through an older incarnation of Collagesity itself. Help me out, Baker Bloch. What was it called?”

“VWX Town,” pipes up the male Baker.

“Yes,” resumes Pitch. “And there’s also a somewhat smaller woods near VHC City called the PCH Forest coming into play now. More on that later.” He shifts from right to left a couple of times, head down, figuring out what to say next. How to put it? Mary and I are with child? Mary and I are expecting? But who is the real father? Last night, Mary confessed to him about that vivid dream in the old house, just before they left VHC City. Could Osborne Well really have done what Mary described? It was something they desperately needed to find out. Perhaps not to save their relationship, per se (they’ve also decided to become engaged when all this Muff-Bermingham mess gets clears up!), but just to uncover the truth. Who is George really? What happened to him and Duncan all those years ago?

(to be continued)

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L$1101110

“There she is, George. Just like I predicted.”

“Who is she?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Duncan replied. “How long did you say you’ve been here now?”

“What’s time here? But 50 as of last Wednesday. *You* were there at the celebration.”

“Ever hear of mothersightings?”

“Of course,” said the younger boy in appearance. “But… *oh*, you don’t mean…?”

—–

“That’s when we first saw her. Together. I’ve been spotting her fishing in various places for a while. We determined later it was the same ghost that haunted the village’s 3rd cottage — Osborne Well’s house back then, before he moved up the hill. He probably summoned her through the monster tome, we reasoned. That’s what we had nicknamed his heavy book of spells. And now she couldn’t escape this realm. But what was the spell? That’s what we had to find out next. Mr. Well always took a morning walk down in the lowlands: Path of the Circle River. That was our window. Literally. We entered his house through a window and not a door. George had just received a universal pass-through for his 50th death day, but we still dare not come in from the front. Very expensive in those days.”

“Doors?” Baker Bloch ventured.

“Pass-throughs,” Duncan corrected. “Buster Damm can tell you all about them. When he gets here.”

“Which should be soon,” Pitch Darkly said.

“Yes. The book was just laying open on the table, which should have been clear indication of a trap for us. It wasn’t. We were so proud that we’d found a way to enter the house in the first place. Vanity.” He shook his head. “The next thing we knew we were the same. I was him, I mean. Just by reading the passage in front of me. Rule 110.”

“Well, what did it say?” Hucka Doobie had been studying magic for years and was very curious about all this.

“We couldn’t remember. Neither of us.” Duncan kept something hidden here. “But that was the day we found out we had the same mother. And the same father. Osborne Well. Lucky us, eh? Osborne Well was our father.”


Mothersighting.

“Not Pitch?” exclaimed Baker Bloch.

“Nope,” Duncan replied tersely. “At least not until *now*. That’s why I’m apparently here. A summoning. Three days ago I was returned to my former self. Spell broken.” He wiped his forehead with his hand. “Thank the Lord God Almighty.”

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