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

April 14, 2020 · 8:25 am

the blue jay’s way

“A Queer Creek is also a Strange Creek, Hucka Doobie.”

“Indeed.” How many more times would the bee-person appear to Baker Bloch, like the Gazoo to the Flintstones? As many times as he needed, Hucka realized. *She* was the one in error for wanting to have a relationship. She should have put that behind her long ago, when she was a man. But: here we are. *She’d* fight the urges.

Hucka Doobie then suggested they go down the Rabbit Hole again…

Buildings. Not fitting perfectly together unlike me — the perfection. I must make all this right.

I remove my perfection to attempt to fit in better with this strange, queer place but feel I am only a shell of what I was. I disappear.

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April 10, 2020 · 9:34 am

surround sound

“I’m worried Hucka Doobie,” spoke Baker Bloch to what was obviously his closest confidant these days, with Baker Blinker over the hill and far far away back in Chilbo with Karoz. He points to the newspaper with the missing piece.

“This plot is more full of holes than a Swiss Cheese Mountain in Ant Town.”

Hucka Doobie looks over at him with, love? She is more aware every day that he is the one. The chiseled face, the sloping debonair hat that originally came from a Rhinestone Cowboy. The leftover traits from his father Spaced Ghost, including the power bands and the, well, she’s heard rumors anyway.

“Listen to that music from the gramophone,” she said, trying to distract. “It’s called — ‘Melancholy’. Originally etched on a 4×4 magic square but in 1961 committed to a round piece of wax and released to the world. 365 singers for 365 days. And those *bells*…” She listens again, lost in a trance. Nap time, like when you meditate but can’t shut off your thoughts.

“It’s very nice, Hucka Doobie,” Baker spoke plainly in his announcer-like voice, just made for a tv or radio show. Just like his dad. “But we have *problems*.”

Hucka Doobie looked at him again. No love in his eyes for her. She knew the rumors to be false, perhaps started by Wheeler herself, the *bitch*. No, she must think peace and love and happiness thoughts. Like the Tibetans she’s been so engrossed in lately. That music — so soothing. She’s almost cutting the z’s again — but, *no*, she must stay alert. She stares at Baker Bloch once more. No reciprocation — yes, that’s what she was thinking about. Then the bells start…

15 minutes later, Baker Bloch was staring at her through the hole in the paper when she awoke. “*Now*?” he queried.

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April 10, 2020 · 6:37 am

hogwash

After that horrible scissors accident the local police are still investigating wiped out both his parents, SEAN “Green” Penn inherited the beach house and made it his own. For one thing, he painted it green to match the color of his perpetual outfit. He was a 28 year old black man with rheumatoid arthritis developing in his back and neck, but gave the appearance of a 15 year old white boy with developing acne to acquaintances and friends. The *green* was always a constant, though, framed by this house. The house makes the boy/man makes the house in a repeating, reciprocal action, like yin and yang but with no opposites involved except that pitting flesh against wood. Each night he slept, they — structure and body — exchanged energy, paint for clothes. One day he might wake up with the body of the house and the house that of a body but it would be far in the future, if so. These things don’t work that fast.

So his parents died, he inherited the house and made it his own. So what about the white/black part, the dichotomy he presented to first himself and then the world? It happened on August 8, 1988 in a town called 88. He woke up calling for his ma. “Mom, mom?”, and then he remembered the accident, the scissors, the *horror*. Never, *ever* run with scissors, but it was more than that. (Yes,) *mother* approached father with scissors held high.

“I will stab him,” she said aloud. “He has chosen to be the voice of evil and I will kill him. When I have killed him something will snap within myself and I will die also. It will be a release for all of us.”

But this wasn’t right either. That’s just a quote from that book everyone is talking about these days. “Winesap,” but with a twist of the bitter apple. It involved the game of rock paper scissors that every Our Second Lyfe avatar can play, large or small, old or young, black or white. Rock beats scissors because it can bang them into submission, but paper beats rock because it can cover up the past, which scissors can then expose through snipping. And so that’s what we’re doing. Making a hole, perhaps one for an Ant.

—–

SEAN’s Aunt Bee wakes up suddenly and with a headache, clipping still in hand. She recalls the past.

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April 3, 2020 · 8:51 am

Five

Wheeler decides to beat her to the punch. If there *is* evidence of a continuation in Jumboro and this attached Jumbo Core, she was going to find out herself. No filtering through bias. And, besides, Hucka Doobie has a kewl beauty of her own as a strong African-American woman struggling in a white male society. Yes, Wheeler admires her very much. She wishes she were equally spiritual, but there’s the Venus in her that is always niggling away at the good, the correct, the *Christian*. The Lord and The Lamb do not find favor in her sometimes — often. Oh, Axis is right, she thinks then and there, perched on the rooftop of a skybox she had no business prying into. But she was here now, bad instincts taking over again. Might as well take a peek inside.

The Jumbo Core, yes. Amazing. And Jumbo is perhaps the most famous elephant of all time, a Barnum and Bailey product, like oppositely sized Tom Thumb. Wheeler studies the alternately green and yellow colored squares of this “grassy base”, as the description puts it. Is this the original 9×9 square of sims? she ponders. It *must* be in some way. But what does it mean? Anything about the objects positioned upon it? But Wheeler can discover nothing of marked note.


nothing of marked note

She looks all around the rest of the skybox remotely before “accidentally” moving through the wall behind this grassy base into a back room that she hadn’t *checked* for some reason. A broad smile formed on her face. “Yellow-green and red-violet!” she cried aloud, seeing the 2 colors juxtaposed, floor to wall. The Thomas Main and Nick Barkley story can continue!

And her own, she realized.

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2020 EARLY”!

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March 26, 2020 · 9:01 am

call 02

Ant figures out how to hang up so’s he can make another call, this time to old friend Hucka Doobie.

“Hiya Hucka, old friend. How’s it buzzing? haha. What’s the buzz, I mean. Listen. (reply) She’s fine — thanks for asking. Anyway, get this, I just hung up one of your old *Blinkerton* works in my castle over here at [Elephants Trunk], hehe. (surprised reply) Yeah, I’m staring right at the *ant* who’s taking a piss on the whole world. Reminds me of Trump. (reply) Oh right, not suppose to say that here. (reply) Monitoring, huh? (longer reply) Uh huh? (shorter longer reply) Uh hum. (reply) Well, I must say, I think things will come around in the end and run him over from behind. The ass will get hit in his ass! (reply) Yeah, I agree. But we could talk politics all night, me and you. Like back in the Bomb Squad. Those were the days! (longer reply) Right, Jimmy’s okay. I just talked to him last week. He’s totally over the yellow jacket fever. Wearing red these days. (reply) Oh, I guess that could be a kind of joke. (reply) Yeah, I want to talk to you about, you know, how you were a bee and all and now you’re kind of human and such. H-how does that all work? I know you’ve explained it to me, but just review it again (reply) Yeah, you got it. I’m thinking about changing myself. (reply) I know it will be hard. I’ve got a rock solid plan. (reply) Oh August — Easter in August. (reply) Easter *is* in August this year? (short reply) Oh, yucks, you’re a funny one. Guess you still got the old Blinkerton in you still, the joker.” Ant looks at the Charles Nelson Blinkerton work just hung on the wall, and reads. “‘Sawmill *Heir* Wins Pis-Ant Reward Ha.’ What was the other hotel sign you changed? (reply) ‘Rebel Ho’s’, right. Not as successful. *This* one won that award. (reply) What’s the plan, heh? Well (he turns), we better ask Stan.”

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March 10, 2020 · 4:35 am

Mouse

He didn’t know where he was. The approaching, grey ghost didn’t help. “You killed me Arthur Kill,” she moaned. Oh — *her*, he thought while watching the spectre waver back and forth, then retreat again. The *freshest* one. This sometimes happens. He must be dreaming…

Earlier:

Big Black Smoke couldn’t resist. The door was open with no one home currently — he’d checked all the windows.  The bed beckoned; he’d deal with the consequences later. That’s how the man known *locally* as Big Black Smoke met his end at the terminus of a Dead End Street in Urqhart. Or right next to it.

—–

Hmmm, pondered Arthur Kill, readying for another. A black man like me. Oh well. Duty calls. He enters.

—–

Later, while staring at the rotating tire outside that Arthur Kill buried Big Black Smoke under, a tiny rap at the door. It was Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child, longing for another bed down with new love lust and wannabe novelist Barry X. Vampire, who would escape all this mess and slaughter as fate deemed it. Onward and upward into new peaks to the south west, he wisely decided earlier that day.

—–

*POP* (another one)

—–

Dawn was breaking in Arthur Kill’s dream, driving the ghosts away. But he was in the middle of novel 19, with no story there yet possible. Since this is sort of toward the middle of 18. Or a little beyond. Urqhart.

—–

“That was a short one, Hucka Doobie,” spoke Baker Bloch while staring down at the freshly inserted pin on the Big Map.

“Not over yet,” advised the wise bee-ing just out of sight to the west and/or south.

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March 1, 2020 · 7:23 am

pious

“Thank you for meeting with me tonight, Hucka Doobie. Corsica is my greatest challenge”

“So I’ve heard.” She swigs a beer as well. “Well — *ahhh* (wipes mouth of frothy foam) — I’m here to help you. For sure. Go team.” She wants to raise her arm here for unity but finds she can’t.

“Thanks. See if I lean back, Hucka, I’m right on the line at 162/162. The planners of the Melder sim, these *Elmers*, must have known about this new Diagonal in my estimation and taken steps to incorporate its energy into…”

“… their plans,” finished Hucka Doobie in the gap. Another beer gulp. “Well, it’s a very interesting theory and I suppose it has to be true on some level.”

“Can you feel it?” requests Baker Bloch. “I’m right on it but I’m just wondering if it works in proximity (as well).”

“Not really. But I don’t really work that way.” She emits a secret smile here, like a Mona Lisa. “You know,” — she looks down at her beer, her free hand — “*I* could have gone out with the Good Rev. Amos T. Sandman. It didn’t have to be Wheeler.”

“Yeah. I think it *did*.” Baker Bloch looked over, thinking Hucka Doobie was an attractive woman, but Wheeler… Well, Wheeler is Wheeler.

She has her ways. Hucka Doobie is fantastic as a spiritual guide to the blog. No need to bring her into all that. If necessary I’ll get Baker Blinker to talk to her. “We, you and me Hucka, are alike in that way.” He points back and forth between them.

“Hmph.”

“Anyway, The Diagonal doesn’t necessarily work that way.”

“Doesn’t it? Didn’t Sid Viscous and Martha Lamb get engaged on a Diagonal and then seal the deal there?”

“I suppose.” Baker considers. “But that was the Heart one. The Head one was probably different.”

“Yess… but what is *this* one, the new Diagonal? How does *it* function?”

Baker ponders again. “Well, it’s obviously about religion.” He elaborates. “The tree church at the first of this section is on it. And then here — Summerhill’s church.”

“This is not Summerhill’s church,” Hucka Doobie speaks plainly, looking around. “But I know what you mean.” Another swig. Hucka Doobie considers that she may always be alone. Without love.

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February 28, 2020 · 8:08 am

Lord’s burg

“It’s time to get a form, Summerhill Nova,” The Lord said in her head, the same one that spoke to fellow Oodite Ben Wolf, and perhaps still does (more later on that — involves the *second* Bena — we’ll see what happens). Oh, they don’t call themselves that name any longer. Christians they are now. No more underground planchette movements in the middle of the night. That can only spell TROUBLE. Wegee is no longer the key. *Visibly*.

Summerhill knew full well who the Lord was. She use to rent to him. But 20 linden dollars a month and her will to charity can only go so far. *If* he returns it will be for the regular price, the one everyone else pays that stays “x” amount of time. And it will depend on the destruction of Collagesity. Just like before. And she told him that in *his* head.

I asked her about the missing wall at the Point of It All, the one where my collage formerly hung in the underground, where The Musician became Sikul Himakt once again several years back now to translated the codes and symbols correctly. She said it was just a building mistake, corrected at one point. Didn’t have anything to do with me and my art. Oh, but I begged to differ. It has *everything* to do with it.

“When you erased that wall — those *rooms*,” I explained patiently in her head, “you changed reality. Something was let loose; something was lost.”

She asked again about Pitch Darkly so I told her the full story of what I knew up until now. She was rather shocked he was in Bena. And even the older, original house in Instabar, about as close as I could get to that summit that represents the “featured” peak of the present section.

“You’ll have another Red Pepper incident if you don’t watch out.”

She was right, I realized while spotting an avatar in the house just above it. I wisely decided to delete the structure…

… delete the structure

… delete the structure. Oh heck. I can’t do it.


Blue #3 door to Sister sim that caused Baker Bloch so much trouble when he went through it is wisely blocked now by art.

She kept pressing. “What of the name Bemberg for, er, my sim?”

I said it was an Oracle thing. Like Sikul Himakt. Like Vainom Kug. I resisted saying once more she didn’t die in Vain but in VHC City, but I did segue from that into telling her there was a Firesign Theater angle to all this, involving member Phil Austin in part. Maybe in a major part. I explained the choice of the name Melder for the sim her church was in. And next door: Fharsine. “Melder points to Elmer and the underground,” I said. “That’s why you are…”

“… white as glue?”

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February 25, 2020 · 7:05 am

Moor(k) 03

“Hmm, Hucka Doobie. Top of the bridge here in Kabu is where photo-novel 8 ended. It’s the lone pick of Uh Clem who has a 512 in Moork. Robin Williams (Mork) was a noted big fan of Firesign Theater, appearing on the 2001 PBS Special ‘Weirdly Cool’ celebrating the group. Uh Clem refers to a character on their 1974 album ‘We’re All Bozos on this Bus’.”

“Featured in ‘Pretty Bunnies’. Good night to you Baker Bloch.” Hucka Doobie appeared in front of me atop the Kabu bridge. “You are following the breadcrumbs, good. They will lead you to the center. They will lead you to the *egg*.”

“Robin Williams’ egg. Mork’s I mean.”

“Yes. In part.”

I point behind Hucka Doobie. “What about that big cube of cheese over there?”

—–

“The cube is 64x64x64. On the ground, it occupies exactly 1/16th of a sim. It was created by GeneralFyad between Dec 15 and Dec 22 of last year, thus over 2 months ago. There is one house, a House of Mizu structure, fully inside the cube. 7 other houses are partially within to various degrees.”

“All of this is super important. I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Nighty night.”

—–

I’ll show Hucka Doobie I’m onto something. 2 1/2 months is a long time not to visit your house. *8* houses, but maybe the one in the middle doesn’t count due to fishbowl effect.

It’s not in the center of the sim but I’m also not in the center of photo-novel 18.

This Uh Clem 512 and its lone object has something to do with something!

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February 9, 2020 · 10:02 am

clubbing 02

“We stand far above them, Hucka Doobie, unable to listen in. Is Heidi Hunt Ives even alive still? Another victim of clubbing?”

“We cannot say at this point. You know synchronicity is strong here. This is a spiral (again). This is a veil to be opened not fast but slowly. Red curtains hide much. To open too fast is to cause insanity. Or worse: sanity. Walk the line, walk the rope. Spin the spiral.”

Hucka Doobie relents. “Oh all right, HHI is dead. He clubbed her with his club before moving to the center. Happy?”

“But-” I protested, thinking of the matter further. “She’s not a character in a story. She’s *really* dead, then.” Baker Bloch begins to worry about his sanity.

Hucka Doobie relents again. “Good. You have past the clubbing test. Most men would have believed me.”

“I *do* believe you.”

They stared across the table at each other, realizing they were in the center all along.

Baker starts counting his fingers.

—–

Casey One Hole, no longer actor Tom Casey atall, moves over to the *real* center in Danshire. Waiting in his rocking chair in his Small Kowloon House for people all around to start interacting with him and him alone. Shouldn’t be long.

Poor Heidi Hunt Ives. But like Norris, like Herbert Gold, heck like anyone deceased in these here photo-novels, she could return.

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