an assembly such as this

Butler is doing his best to prize Bagman out from behind his desk - although Susannah hopes that he will be careful and not too hasty, as Bagman may be --er, busy at the moment. Princess Afternoon appears exhausted and will soon need a nap... and there is no telling what Mrs. Lytle will do in her absence!! The chickens have escaped and are running in and out of the house, and apparently Erasure Head has attempted to blow up Mole End, and nearly succeeded in detonating the farm. Zoe is in the mountains of her mind, and Sophie is headed out to sea for parts unknown.

Maybe Kierkegaard needs to come down off the porch swing and do the hula, or something.

Critical Mass

Princess Afternoon sighed and leaned against the porch railing, it had been a productive day. She pulled a small paper bag from her pocket and rustled around in it selecting one of the  swiss chocolate mocha melt creams that she had pilfered from Zoe's international chocolate drawer. Well, not pilfered exactly, Princess Afternoon absolutely did NOT believe in stolen property, she intended fully to replace the chocolates if she ever in her life got to Switzerland. She was thoughtful as she virtuously munched the chocolate, things were looking up. Baubo was sending postcards from the forest, she could not actually come to the convocation because ... her thoughts broke off as a thundering noise breeched her consciousness and the distinct clump of mrs. lytle's brough encased stride hit the porch floor coming to stop precisely in front of her. She instantly placed the small bag behind her back, regretting her recent decision that five chocolates at one time would provide a singular taste experience as she likely appeared a somewhat desperate rodent packed with her winter stash. 

"Gel, I..." Mrs. Lytle started after planting herself in a firm no-nonsense stance, then she faltered, something was amiss. She whipped out of her tweed morning suit pocket a quizzing glass and held it up to her eyes. "Saints! You've swollen up like a toad! It looks like mumps, slightly higher up the throat than usual, but nonetheless, a definite result of superfluous pontification, i'm sure, and now your body has reacted violently. Today of all days!" She placed the glass safely back in the tweed and crossed her arms under her impressive chest, fortifying the image of a military gunboat sited for action. " We have impending chaos. Zoe has locked herself in her meditation boudoir, Tiny Bill is running around in a Testicular Protection Device.." Princess Afternoon raised her eyebrows "mmooph?" she asked. "Well, yes, he seems to have imported some several Amazonian maidens from the rainforest, something about ethereal romance, but they apparently involve nutcrackers in their joues de'amor and Tiny is in retreat, having fortified the tent. Anyway, Baubo is mashing her chickens and cannot attend the Convocation, Bagman and Butler are still refusing to come impose order, although they did send a postcard and you can't tell one from the other anymore, Zoe is, as i said, ensconced and refuses to emerge, she keeps complaining about stolen chocolates, you wouldn't know anything about that would you?" Mrs. Lytle peered suspiciously at Princess's mouth, something about the odor... "Mmurphug!' said Princess. "Hmmmph." said mrs. Lytle getting her mind back on track, " yes, well, as I said disorder is abounding and there seems to be a Miss Pie , an author of some racy repute who is creating suggestive chicken scandals about the Farm. It is simply not acceptable, I say!" Her voice raised a notch and Princess could see her feeling about for the whiffler she usually kept attached to her belt in a special holster. She  had seemingly forgotten to don it in her haste this morning, and so became slightly distracted. " Well, you must tend to your condition and return to defend the Queen's Farm! I am imposing Military Curfew until order is restored!" She did a quick about face and marched inside to find the necessary piece of defensive equipment she needed to fully arm herself from the impending Anarchy. Princess Afternoon quickly swallowed the chocolates and ran into the kitchen to e-mail Butler and Baubo: Code Red, she wrote, insanity level reaching critical mass, report immediately.

Gathering of the Convocation

Princess Afternoon was running back and forth between fiber-optic venues and starting to feel slightly disoriented. However, Zoe had broken off meditation exercises to come outside and begin to uphold the freedom inherent in Postmodernism with her Burmese silks floating in the spring breeze. Mrs. Lytle was right behind her, of course, her bosom cutting the air like the prow of a military gunboat, ready to uphold the Queen's lexicon as taking primacy over any foolishness about freedom and prefixes involving "post-". Bagman and Butler were still behaving in a shady manner pretending they were receiving phone messages from Danish pornographers as an excuse for not answering calls. Tiny was disturbed by the cyberspotlight that had swiveled in his direction and was presently burning him in the eyeballs, so that he couldn't see and the screen door hit him in the face after Mrs. Lytle sailed out. 

Things were starting to cook

What's All This?

Mrs. Lytle has spent the winter reorganizing the library books at RUGfarm (who is it that keeps putting them out of Dewey Decimal System order????) and categorizing the grammatical errors of all political candidates. Sniffing the first spring-like weather, she starts to plan spring cleaning chores, arranging her garter belt and making sure her tightly permed hair is in place before approaching the remaining residents of RUGfarm with their "to do" list.

Walking out the back door to ring the bell that would summon everyone, Mrs. Lytle is astonished to discover that the farm is now floating in cyberspace. "What's All This??" she demands of Princess Afternoon, who, seated on the porch swing, blithely continues reading Kirkegaard to Tiny Bill, who is squirming in his seat, desperately hoping to escape to go swimming in the pond before heading off to a new job. Bagman listens from the bushes, frowning and muttering, "I hope she gets to the part about indirect communication soon!" Zoe leans out of the upstairs window and reminds Princess Afternoon to remind Bill that Kirkegaard was the first postmodernist. "Remember his admonition that 'subjectivity is truth' and 'truth is subjectivity,' she exclaimed.

Mrs. Lytle harrumphed, and with index finger high in the air began to pontificate on the value of hard work and the silliness of Danish philosophers. At the same time, her eyes were sweeping the skies of cyberspace for Butler and the others, all of whom had mysteriously disappeared as soon as the presidential campaigns had started. Perhaps they were all now political advisors instead of poets?

Where Audacious Speech is Considered

Princess Afternoon was out of breath. She had been stamping back and forth saying provocative things for some time and she felt a wheeze coming on. Zoe had briefly peeked out the upstairs window where she had been performing a special kind of meditation that involved a lot of silence and green silk pajamas from Burma.  There was a suspicious rustling in the bushes and she caught the tail end of Bagman's fringed lemon yellow sarong disappear into the brush. "Smokin' Jehosephat", she swore," this goading business is feverish stuff" She hoped the dam would break soon or she might have to consider the explosive mix  of politics, religion and sex to blow the doors off the reluctant bunch and send them streaming towards her in a maddened froth. Hmmm... that could have its drawbacks if she continued to the end of that particular image. She sighed and went into the kitchen for a glass of lemonade. She would take a break and think this over.

Let's keep this quiet

Hi, Zoe here, just back from meditating in the mountains and pleading with everyone to keep this locale a secret from Mrs. Lytle. She will surely find something to criticize, and I think it's so lovely to be here in outerspace with so much energy (chi) floating around me.

Not in kansas

Holy smokes Andy, we've gone into cyberland. Is this the part where we make secret names like

"Cyber Wiz" or "Smokin' Jo"? 

Princess Afternoon