Tag Archives: Hucka Doobie

Smallerville

“What happened to the other pink elephant, Ziffie?”

“Howard? (Do) you mean Howard?”

“I don’t know his name,” the visiting Baker reinforced.

“Island,” Ziffie spoke. “Skies,” Ziffie clarifed. “Island in the Skies,” Ziffie amalgamated.

“So he’s left [delete name] town?”

“Not far,” Ziffie then said. “Island. Skies.”

“Yes, I gathered,” spoke Baker Bloch flatly. Where *is* Hucka Doobie? he thought to himself.

—–

“So this is it, Hucka Doobie. Right where Ziffie said it would be.”

“And where did you meet these people? These elephants?”

“That town right over there. Baker Bloch pointed to his left. The town you were suppose to meet me in.”

“Sorry I lost the landmark. I’ve had a lot of things on my mind lately.”

“Pollinating party organizing is tough, I’ve heard. But only from you.”

“And I had other stuff to do.” Hucka Doobie didn’t clarify.

“Well, should we?”

“Sure.”

—–

“Not much to it, Baker Bloch.”

“A good view of the town, though,” Baker offered, peering over the south edge. “I suppose that’s why he chose the spot. Didn’t want to go too far up with it.”

“Should we go inside this cottage?”

“Call first… but I don’t have… wait, I remember the name now.”

“Spit it out.”

“Howard?” Baker called. “Howard??” he said again. No answer.

“That’s enough of a warning for me, along with a rap on the door. Three times then we’re in. My rule.”

“Alright,” Baker Bloch agreed.

—–

“No knocking needed, Baker Bloch. Door just opened right up.” Hucka Doobie gazed at the blood red curtain just beyond. He turned to Baker. “I’m not afraid, are you?”

“No,” the half dead avatar lied.

They plunged ahead with sweaty palms.

“This is all there is?”

“It’s the Black Lodge, silly,” states Hucka Doobie, breathing a little easier. “Twin Peaks; Black Lodge.” I wonder where the midget is?”

“I believe dwarf or little person is the appropriate terminology, Hucka Doobie. And being about 3 feet tall yourself, you’re one to talk.”

“I know who did this. Must be Buster Damm. Or that Tonshi woman. Or both of them together. This is where *they* went. I feel (this truth) in me from head to feet.”

“Go ahead and try out a chair Hucka Doobie.”

“I have a better idea,” said the bee-person. “We’ll do it together.” They positioned themselves in front of 2 of the 3 chairs. “Alright, on 3. One, two…”

The scene shifted. They were outside on the sky island again.

“Not even a cottage up here,” spoke Hucka Doobie, not remembering the last 10 minutes in the least.

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Different

“So this is your latest disguise Baker Bloch.”

“No, not really. This is Duncan who is also Paul. And Paul is also Even Whiter Walt. Paul is married to Mary. Marry me Mary, he asked at one point in time and space, perhaps here, perhaps there.”

“Different sims are tough. Like different races.”

“Male and female,” said Duncan/Paul to Hucka Doobie. “Black and white, old and new.”

“But not good and evil.”

“We know now, Hucka, that this place, this News and Views we sit in and perhaps even stare out of at times through its 4th Wall…”

“Like now,” Hucka Doobie interjected.

“… this place is old. 4 years, maybe more. We thought it was a temporary spot, maybe gone before the week was over when we first visited.”

“2 months ago? 3?”

“But it’s not.” Duncan/Paul paused. Percolator the Clown, listening in from the bar counter, waited with bated breath. Was this the big reveal?

“Someone is hearing.”

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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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