“Oh fer sure,” spoke Filona beside Nibble, who had two points of focus, right and left, balanced by center (319). “You just turn left by the safety ovens… or is it right?” she asked Nibble, who knew but didn’t say. She just shook her head. Filona continued. “Anyways, we gots ta run, Lester. But, just saying, you’re the best(!).” For tonight, she thinks while redonning her neon roller skates, leaving both in the dust. Nibble realizes she had to interact with Lester, since they were left alone. Right? she thinks. I have to interact with him, yes? Lester starts.
“Soo. You wanna go on a date? Down to that place by the harbour?” Turns out Nibble didn’t know Filona, althought they appear together in that photo just above. Accidental conjunction; Lester, with Nibble all along, just wanted to know how to get down to the bay where he’d heard there was a bitch’n bristo that served Hot Molten Silver (alcoholic drink).
“See that booth over there, Tabitha? That’s the one that’s going to collapse and kill Mommy while she’s standing under it buying that watermelon in 10 years, in fact (she checks her watch), 10 years to the month day and even minute.” Tabitha understandably begins crying. “Oh shush shush baby girl. It’s just an asteroid. Crushes Mommy’s head like, well, like a watermelon.” She edges closer to the fated booth, the scene of the future tragedy that cost then 11 year old Tabitha her mother. On her own she was beyond that. No: instead taken in by the triangle, the 32×32, which caused the “accident” in the first place, or, to use its lingo, the “occident”.
Like Mork in Terry Gilliam’s “Fisher King” movie, Tabitha had clearly gone insane through the experiencing, BOOOMB!!!!
Mommy was the triangle from then on, the only intact piece left. She carried it around in her mind, in her brain. It spoke to her constantly, and was even hard to shut up. It then predicted its own death. In the past. “I’ll be standing just over there baby girl.”
(to be continued)