• too many disco adventures

    While fussing about in my kitchen I heard a sound coming from the backyard garden. Thinking it was the feral cats harassing the octopus again, I went out with my copy of Marcel Proust’s dog’s masterpiece ‘In Search of Lost Kibbles’ and began to read out loud.

    Just as I got through the first few sentences and the cats all ran for cover, a hooded figure emptied her bucket of cat food under my garden table, stood up, and started rummaging through her bag.

    The outlaw librarian again. The last time I saw her she billed me for books taken out of a fictitious library. Rather than find the fictitious characters that checked out the original fictitious books to see if I could get my money back, I find it’s easier to just update my blog on a more frequent basis.

    In a hurry I closed the book and pulled a bag out of my pajamas top pocket and offered it to her.

    She looked in the bag I gave her and then at me with an eyebrow raised. “It’s a bag of misty rain. Really?”

    Stammering, “Look, I know it’s not fresh but it still tastes good with tomatoes.”

    Her eyebrow still raised, “You think everything tastes good with tomatoes.”

    I started moving some of the cat food around so there wasn’t a riot when they came back to eat. “I had too many adventures to escape this past year. I didn’t realize there were so many.”

    Two of us created a fire in the woodstove, two of us put the food away in the root cellar below.
    Two of us brought out blankets to warm and dry ourselves while the fire grew.
    Two of us started preparing a meal for four.
    We four moved quietly within the small cottage above the cave, tending to our warmth, food, and comfort.

    “Those four need to establish communication with the other shelters. A sanctuary that no one knows about isn’t.”

    I think I remember Pomeeni saying something after that but when I looked up she was gone and I was in my bed just waking up.

    She didn’t bill me this time but every time I look outside now the birds are always gossiping about the weather. I think I’ll take the hint.

    “He’s the crimson in your face du jour
    The fiddler in your darkest night
    He’s the melody without a cure
    And Rome is burning, but that’s alright”

    -The Disco Strangler, The Eagles (Glenn Lewis Frey / Don Felder / Donald Hugh Henley)

  • muse intern shift

    Too much peppermint syrup again. Maybe it’s time to stop going to that coffee shop, he thought to himself as he changed into a raccoon.

    Wow, I’ll be able to eat hot dogs again, he thought as he wondered if he was still a he. He? looked down to see and unsurprisingly forgot all about his internship that technically was over moments earlier.

    Much more covered in fur than he was a minute before, he/she couldn’t tell so decided to ask one of the very shocked looking customers in the waiting room in front of him/her/it.

    “Are raccoons sex easy to figure out?” he asked the room.

    “Does this mean you’re not going to look up my existence account?” a large and very newly hatched bird with a polar bear’s head said, her cracked egg all around her.

    “What’s wrong with it…” the raccoon said, running a hand scanner over the sheet the bear-bird left on the desk. “Ah yes, you definitely exist. Or wait, you DID exist. Roughly a hundred million years ago. Do you know anything about raccoon gender?”

    The bird bear’s eyebrow shot up.

    “Pomini gonna be pissed if you leave and there’s birth fluid all over the floor.” ArJee the possom from down the hall said, carrying a filebox into the room.

    “Hey, my internship ends when it ends. I don’t control when I change, I was a cat a minute ago.”

    “Whose fault is that, probably the same fault as baby bird-bear there. They making realities off schedule again and you’re here so you know what Pomini say. Hey, this my song.” ArJee turned up the computer speakers to Nine Inch Nails’ Pinion.

    Knowing Pomini, officially known as Melpomene and one of the original Muses, firmly believed in the mantra “You broke it you bought it” and used it liberally, if not always correctly. It happened on your watch, it’s your business.

    “Are you a bird or a bear?”, Raccoon said, turning down the music and sitting down at the computer.

    “I started out as a bear, next thing I was in this egg. And my papers are no good they said.”

    “Ok. Here’s the bathroom key, clean up and decide what you want to be, I’ll get your paperwork squared away as soon as I figure out my gender. You sure nobody knows a raccoon’s gender?”, Raccoon said this last to the room and looking down at the computer

    “I’m told not to get close enough to find out, they’re supposed to be wild. And you’re a lady raccoon.” this voice came from the tall german shepherd, watching the bear move off into the bathroom, dripping egg fluid behind her.

    Finding this out was welcome, but the smart-ass dog knowing it first was annoying. “Damn right we wild, not like you ever gonna find out, pup. Whoever’s putting their own reality in the gallery, are they signing their own name at least? And where’s there a hot dog cart?”, the raccoon found it easier to get settled into her new reality when an attitude was percolating. Some things didn’t change at least.

    “You’ll have to ask the hot dog vender hisself, out in front. He’s your reality forger.” the dog said, jotting something down in a little notebook, and walking toward the door.

    “Oh, a detective then. Before you arrest them, can you hold them so we get our existences filed, also I want a hot dog.”