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A weird, cartoon, orange goldfish sat in its bowl, and I do mean sat -- one fin over the rim of the globe -- crystal, wearing sunglasses, smoking a j, and calling itself Newport.
My father, out of his mind, walking through walls and down brick alleyways, opened the door of its room, where it had been set and forgotten, perhaps for forever, there in the hidden room of the basement.
"Time cop," Newport greeted him as he dared peek in the door.
All cherub, father grinned for the first time in his life. He was so BORED of the 50's. (Before people wore genitalia...)
Now, THIS was up his alley. And behind the plywood rear alley storefront with a missing door with no handle (easily jimmied with a key; through -- the haunted air compressor room where the thunder bunnies of darkness dwelt (and are smiling up at me, as frightening as they seem; knowing it is...
Chapter 4: Human laboratory to the left; zeta Reticulan door to the right, left open (they stained my features with a green mask.)
The Captain's cockpit.
The Land of Nominy, where the white witch bakers (prior to the invention of violence) made their effervescent. Pink liqueur around the Time Machine, the prototype Mothership's maiden voyage: a turbine that now printed t-shirts and had fallen into place where it stood.
Atop a polyester wooden floor concealing a stairwell beneath.
Who would have detected the camouflage door immediately to the right, but the surrogate?
It was the son she'd always wanted: a blond-haired, blue-eyed little boy smiling up at her. "Mommy,: he teased.
She took him in and made him desert: a porcelain bowl of vanilla with whipped cream and a cherry on top, with Bisquik; sitting across from him at the table; arms sliding down elbows pivoting her fists to her cheeks.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Mussolini," he smiled. "MUSSOLINI?!"
"THE ITALIAN DICTATOR?"
Now we was sad and perplexed.
"i don't know what dictator means,"
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Four."
"I'm going to call you 'Toby,'" she corrected him.
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