Falling words

Mrs. Lytle stepped briskly onto the back porch to sweep off the pine pollen and ponder what to do about the zipped tent (did she imagine it, or does that tent glow in the dark?) that seemed to move about the side yard. She sensed a renewed energy on RUGfarm, what that flaky Zoe called "chi," in the last day or so. From the tall grasses around the pond Greenman hummed haunting melodies, and that mystical young erasure head was heating up the place with his energy. She would need help keeping the place in order. How could she get Butler to agree to help her manage the place again? What would it take to persuade him?

Brow furrowed over this problem, Mrs. Lytle failed to notice Zoe and Princess Afternoon stretching the prayer flags across the back yard. Zoe was explaining the situation in Tibet and urging Princess to delay her trip so they could chant mantras, but Princess was more intent on doing a few yoga postures before the long trip to New York. Greenman watched from the tall grass and Sophie from just below the pond's surface as Zoe's and Princess' words fell like crystal onto the new spring grass. They noticed how the words became attached to one another as they fell to earth. Greenman knew about connections. He, like Erasure Head, knew all about interconnectedness.

Moling and the Pancake trick

Princess Afternoon squinted her eyes and looked around. Man, this was really out in nowhere. Where was Erasurehead anyway? This was definitely the site from which the flares had gone up, in fact, she could see the cartridges lying on the ground. She peered around again and sighed.
Five hours ago she had been arguing with Zoe over who got to eat the last banana fudge pancake for breakfast. She had just finished a brilliant argument that since there were four pancakes they each should get two when Zoe breezily countered with the postulation that if you combined Kierkegaard, Baudrillard, and Einstein then pancakes moving at the speed of light will actually create a new territory which moves out of the realm of the objective and into the subjective making it therefore, no longer bound by the rules of time. While Princess was still puzzling out this progression Zoe nipped up the pancake up at what seemed to be close to the speed of light and in a twinkling it had disappeared. "See?" she said, and danced off to perform some special meditation exercises she had recently imported from Malaysia.
Seconds later they both heard the whine and bang of the flares and ran outside to see what was happening. "What the hey!" cried Princess Afternoon, one hundred flares shot up one after the other, brilliantly colored fireworks in the shapes of all kinds of underground creatures and organic compounds. "It must be Erasurehead", said Zoe, "the mole experiment is over." "The mole experiment?" said Princess. "Yes, he thought that if he lived with the moles for a period of time he could transcend the dirt and become one with the energetic matter that holds it together." "Transcend the dirt?" said Princess; why did she always sound like she never knew what was going on, she thought, probably because she didn't.
Zoe sighed and rolled her eyes, "You know," she said, " his theory that if you move past the fermions of everyday matter you can actually become a gluon and become one with other gluons in the space-time fabric." "I see. " said Princess, she actually didn't but it sounded better if she said she did, in truth she was still puzzling over the pancake trick. "Anyway," said Zoe, "the experiment was a bust so you'd better go pick him up."
"What! Go pick him up where?!" cried Princess. "Over there of course," Zoe pointed in the direction of where the flare smoke still touched the sky. "But that's probably hundreds of miles away, that might take hours!" said Princess Afternoon who had been really looking forward to an afternoon nap. "Nonsense! Remember," Zoe spoke slowly as if to a mentally challenged mole, "If you stay close to the speed of light, the road will shorten and you will be there and back in a twinkling. "Twinkling!? what about the speed of limit, I'll get a ticket!"
"Well, then," said Zoe, ever resourceful, "just take Bagman's old graviton time-machine. No one will even see you then." Princess eyed Bagman's last experiment lying over by the garage. It was a collection of lucky charm cereal boxes hooked up to a keg of dynamite powder and a laptop computer with some special equations in there having to do with the speed of pornography. She remembered several exploded chicken houses connected with this and the fact that nobody had actually ever seen a graviton. She decided to stick with one of the retrofitted snowmobiles still, amazingly enough, functional and waiting in the grass next to the time machine. "Why can't Tiny Bill go?" she made one last ditch effort to realize her dream of an afternoon nap. "He is busy with the Amazonian crotchnippers in his tent, they are holding him hostage in the tent and we have to wait for Baubo to come and be interpreter for their earth-based Rain forest language" "I see", said Princess, although she really didn't...
So five hours later she was waiting. Peering around into the desert, wondering if Erasurehead had actually become a gluon and how would she recognize him...

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.

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.