“2:01, Mabel. Who do you think will come through today?”
“We can only hope,” replied Tessa’s likewise observing Martian friend, bracing for the “norm”.
“Bloody fairy,” uttered Tessa disgustedly, spotting the wings first. “Put her across the tracks with the rest. I don’t even want to speak with this one.”
“Me neither,” echoed Mabel, still not over the incessant babbling of the impossibly exuberant Bubbles.
She points for the confused newcomer.
Joining her brethren.
It seemed like the only form left for her. Back to the drawing board after this. She rehearsed the ending wedding in her head. Takes place on this very spot.
“Do you take Dixon for your newly minted husband, to honor and obey until derezzing do you part?”
“I now pronounce you cousin, er, *husband* and wife.” She pictures the crowd laughing with this little “mistake”, purposely inserted into the vows by Reverend Jimmy Buffee, a long time Snowwhite admirer and a bit jealous of the proceedings. Both Dixons were her cousins, true, but soon one would be more. And Aunt Emerald soon to be the mother-in-law, whichever. Maw.
“You may kiss the dazzling bride.”
Snowwhite kisses the air in front of her. Several fluttering birds, some yellow, some more mutely colored, look on. She imagines them, as a group, holding up the wedding dress train behind her as she walks north through the green meadow to these two central trees and her husband-to-be, with the even more central sakura weeping cherry just behind, almost as brilliant white as herself and about as tall.
Life is good in the centre of it all.
“God help our user Baker B. to finish up part 06 of this Collagesity graphic novel. God help Dixon Too find Dixon One and bring him home safe from the mountain darkness. God help Brother Oden’s possession and make it easier on him by intense — intensi-fying his artistic talents. And last (Snowwhite Well stares over), God help Aunt Emerald to find the courage to carry on despite over*whelming* odds.” Snowflake Well unclasps her hands, proudly rises from the prayer ottoman. “And that’s it, teehee.” She curtsies sweetly with this.
“Please,” a studying Emerald insists. “Call me Maw. One of my boys — maybe both my boys — will soon be your husband, with one or both of their seeds insides ya.”
“I can feel it,” suddenly gasps Snowwhite Well. “From the future!”
“Nice. This town can do that to ya. Horrible urban planning with the split down the middle and all. But there’s advantages to schizophrenia. Don’t do my Dixons no wrong.”
“Maw,” she reinforced. “I can *feel* it.” She rubs her belly, even lifts her top a bit. “Right here in my navel.” She circles her stomach with an index finger. “Is — is it still there? I can’t see in this light.”
“Yes, it’s there,” coos Emerald, not a lesbian but still admiring. “Snowwhite, I’m not sure how Dixon One *ever* left you here with that thing glinting far and wide. He must be blind toward it.”
“And now… Dixon Too must follow. Reborn Duncan must be found and returned to his rightful place. Dixie.”
“Better quarantine you two lovebirds a bit before the departure.”
“And lower your top back.”
“I’m it, Dixon,” she pleads. “I’m the treasure.”
“Cut the crap, Snowwhite. I know the treasure is in the mountains. It says it right here on this map.” He pushes the map more across the table toward her. “Snowy peak and all. You *know*.”
“I don’t know, Dixon.” Tears begin to form in her eyes again.
“I’m leaving town. I’m going to find it.”
Dramatic pause. Tears are running down her cheeks now. “I’ll… I’ll sleep with the other Dixon who remains. You know I will.”
Dixon huffs. “My no good doppleganger, pheh.”
“The one who tracked down and captured Duncan Avocado…”
“I *know* what he did, Ms. Well.”
She sniffs, dries her eyes with the back of her hand. “He did a good thing.”
Dixon didn’t reply, looked out the window at the bright aspen leaves. Snowy peak. She *knows* goll darnit.
“So will you tell me where the mountain treasure is *now*?”
“Well… it’s not here, that’s for sure. Central forest — in that central park — may seem pretty from a small distance, but up close: no maintenance plan. Terrain doesn’t meet the roots. It won’t live.”
Axis was becoming impatient again. “Then *where*?” He quickly backtracked his emotional outburst. “Please. I-I’ve been waiting so long now.”
Absinthe Fairy finished up Sibelius’ “5 Pieces for Piano” with a flourish. She lifted her hands from the keyboard, caught her breath a bit. “Okay, *now* I can concentrate.” She paused thoughtfully. “What were we talking about, then?”
Later, at 128/128 in the small wood:
“He fell for it, Dixon.”