baker Blinker's Weblog

First and Second Life at least.

“Alrighty… May 27, 2011

Filed under: Incubus,Uncategorized — baker Blinker @ 6:36 am

… Hucka D.”

Hucka D.:

Hold on to your helmets.

bb:

Incubus here we comb.

Hucka D.:

I have horsie hooves for rest.

bb:

We’re off!

Hucka D.:

Beaten by a [delete name].

bb:

Interesting. Insert wind rushing noise.

Hucka D.:

Ditto. My gums are numbs.

bb:

Nubs? Can’t hear well in wind.

Hucka D.:

*Now* they are. In fact…

bb:

You’re not dead.

Hucka D.:

Yes. Dead.

bb:

Library?

Hucka D.:

Kitchen.

bb:

Pair of scissors.

Hucka D.:

Run, run, stumble, fall, dead.

bb:

Wind.

======

(5 years later)

bb:

Second trip to Incubus, Hucka D. Stoked!

Hucka D.:

Wind. The.

bb:

Bad. I can’t hear either[ again].

Hucka D.:

There’s a [floating] chair. Hold on. (pause) Made it! Come on over.

bb:

There’s no room.

Hucka D.:

No, but there’s a chair. Room chair.

bb:

Hold on… I’ll try. (pause) Made it!… not.

Hucka D.:

Oh wow, that’s a long fall baker b. Baker b.? Can you… he’s dead.

=====

(3rd trip to Incubus, 3 months later, cancelled due to wind)

=====

bb:

Here we go again!

Hucka D.:

My hand is on fire. Darn retro-rockets.

bb:

Wind again. Does it ever stop[ here]?

Hucka D.:

Only in Paris. Wee wee?

bb:

I told you… before we left.

Hucka D. (pointing):

There’s the sun in the middle of the moon[ again].

bb:

I hate when it’s hot like this. Can’t we use the marshmallow boats?

Hucka D.:

Crimey.

bb:

Oh look… I’m dead. Solar flare. Or lunar.

Hucka D.:

Me too. Got me too.

bb:

There’s God inside Satan.

Hucka D.:

Remember when we use to whisper we hate hell but now we don’t care?

bb:

I don’t think this is hell. Just beyond.

Hucka D.:

What is the subtle body?

bb:

It’s you. Do you feel bee-like still?

Hucka D.:

No. I feel like a fat, pregnant purple-black alien momma wanna-be.

bb:

Then it’s working.

=====

(7th trip, 70 years, 70 seconds worth of great fun)

bb:

Lookie!

Hucka D.:

My bet is on dying this time. Like we do every time. How many? 11?

bb:

Lost count. You mean you and me together or you separate?

Hucka D.:

Um, maybe separate. I remember 6 deaths.

bb:

What do you feel like now? Coz we just died again. Gorillas this time.

Hucka D.:

Orange. Like a big round orange waiting… waiting…

bb:

To be peeled?

Hucka D.:

To be appealing. (pause) Sorry.

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