Queen of the Hudson

Microwave Explosion

6/2/2024 11:53pm

"Rose!" called Black Hermione. Larry had appeared in this flower-salad bar, and taken Black Hermione's head from his purse.

She continued. "It's been awhile, Rose. How are you doing?"

The enormous naked yellow woman sitting on the mountain of wild flowers turned slowly, as if she was drugged.

"Black Hermione? Is that you? I don't understand."

"Well I'm not quite myself. I'm just a download into this clackity clack wooden dummy head," Black Hermione said.

The enormous naked yellow woman looked confused.

"Oh? Well, I haven't been doing so well," she said. "Age does catch up with us all, eventually. I don't get out much these days. I can barely leave my bed. But the nurses are nice."

"Those ain't nurses at all, you dindle headed twit!" screeched Black Hermione. "Those are your JAILORS! They've got you all penned up!"

"Penned?" Rose -- the enormous naked yellow woman -- seemed to look around the florescent lit banquet room, and then back down at the huge pile of wildflowers she was sitting in. "Well, there really isn't the room there used to be, here in... in...."

"Amarillo!" Black Hermione screeched. "Amari-yee-yo!" again, but in a Spanish pronunciation. "ONEIDA!" Then she said some other words I couldn't understand, but they got Rose to wake up a little.

"Aw, Hermione. Do you remember the fun we used to have? Running along the river... in the hills..."

"I sure do, Rose. But you need to get out more. You want to take a little trip?"

"Oh I don't have that kind of energy anymore. Not like back in the old days."

"Why don't we just take a little step outside, get some fresh air?" Black Hermione said.

"She's NAKED" @Larry Fantasio stage whispered to Black Hermione. "And too big for the Queen and I to carry."

"Yes," said Rose. "Yes I'd like that. But, oh I don't think I'd like the sun to see me like this. I've gotten so old... and I've gained some weight..."

"QUEENIE!" Black Hermione hissed. "Grab that bus bin. The clean one."

Back against the wall were a few plastic bins the busboys used to clear tables.

"Alright Rose, you'll be just fine. You remember when we used to run together? You remember what that was like?"

"Just our heads bobbing in the breeze..." said Rose, seeming like she was about to fall asleep.

Black Hermione seemed to be saying a lot of things under her breath. Not curses, but some repeated phrases, over and over again. Then, quickly, she whispered to me.

"Take that bin over to her. Hold it up to her face."

"She's not going to be sick is she?"

"DO IT!"

I walked over, knee deep in the pile of yellow wildflowers, and held the bus tray up to Rose's face.

Suddenly, Black Hermione's wooden eyes rolled back into her wooden ventriloquist doll head, and sure enough rose started to vomit. Vomit out flowers. Streams and streams of yellow wildflowers, just like this wacko salad bar was already filled with. But springtime too. And summer breezes. And butterflies and bees.

"HOLD TIGHT!" cried Black Hermione. "DON'T DROP IT!"

I couldn't see a thing through the shower of wildflowers and summertime that was pouring over me, but I held tight to the bus tray over my head. It wasn't getting any heavier.

And then it was done. The torrent of flowers had stopped. In fact, the flowers were gone--not only all the flowers Rose had just barfed out, but all the flowers that had filled this salad bar when I came in. The salad bar was empty. Not even plugged in. Nothing but sticky high chairs and booster seats and grody carpet.

"Did you get it?" asked Black Hermione.

I looked in the bus tray. Inside it was an old dried up seed head. Maybe a sunflower.

"You take that and keep it safe," Hermione said. "Now it's time to dine and dash."

Microwave Explosion

10/15/2023 11:08pm

I had room for about two bites of my clam chowder.

"Don't we get a salad with this?" I asked. I was looking at Larry but my question was for Black Hermione, who, being a talking wooden ventriloquist dummy's head, was hidden inside Larry's man-purse.

"You bet you do, sweetie," came Black Herminone's muffled voice. "I told you they had specials!"

"The clam chowder is the special," I told her back. "It means a dish served only on a certain day, or has a lowered price on a certain day. The salad bar's just... always there."

"We'll it's SPECIAL, sweetie. Take my word for it. Why don't you go and try it out? It's all you can eat!"

"This clam chowder's pretty good," Larry said.

The clam chowder was NOT very good. Larry's standards were obviously low when it came to clam chowder. The salad bar looked reasonable on the way in -- I mean, aside from the pickled three bean salad, or the cottage cheee/lime jello mold -- just some cucumbers and carrot sticks and lettuce would suit me fine.... maybe some cherry tomatoes...

But now, that salad bar was gone. The salad bar before me was filled with flowers. Yellow flowers. Prairie Broomweed and Snakeweed, Chocolate Daisy, Smooth Beggartick, Engelmann's Daisy, Curlycup Gumweed. As the Witch Queen of the Hudson, I had to know my plants.

There a busboy was refilling a big bowl with Woolly Paperflower.

"Is this the special?" I asked.

The bus boy looked at me in a terrified way and ran off.

Microwave Explosion

3/27/2023 11:44pm

"You know it's all the little yellow flowers why they call it Amarillo," I told Larry as we taxied in over the aerodrome.

"That's a common misconception," said Larry, in his increasingly annoying know-it-all voice. "It's the yellow dirt around the lake that makes the flowers yellow."

"It's clear neither of you know a thing," said Black Hermione, whose wooden head now sat up on the dashboard above the controls. "What do you think turned all that dirt yellow in the first place?"

Larry didn't seem to know the answer to that one.

Airship control gave us a designation for a mooring tower and Larry brought us in and we kissed the tower without a hitch.

"You know they've got the cheapest helium here. They pipe it right in from Bush Dome so there's practically no middle man. Time to get topped off and fill the reserve tanks," Larry said.

"You can set that up with the airmaster on our way out. We've got a dinner date," Black Hermione said.

"Can we get something a little lighter for dinner?" I asked. "I'm still full from that burger in Wichita."

"You bet, dearie," Black Hermione said. "You wouldn't believe the salad bar at this place I know. Larry, get us a cab."

Microwave Explosion

9/28/2022 11:20pm

It was great to be up in the air again.

Larry was a real cool cat getting the Microwave Explosion out of airfield control. He didn't seem to care a wink about the debris and rips and tears and residual diaper smell on our clothes, and the clerk at the desk didn't bat an eye. We went right to the ship and did our pre-flight checks and were on the go in no time.

"Where to next, chief?"

"They're hot on our tail, but we've got to make it to the House of Woo," he said.

"Mmmmmph mmmmph mmmmph," went the suitcase.

"It's fine to let her out now," he said. I opened up the suitcase.

Black Hermione's wooden dummy head turned on her cradle of silks and rolled her eyes.

"You've got to take the old Power Puff Derby route," she said.

"The old Power Puff Derby route?" I asked.

"Omaha, Wichita, Amarillo, Albuquerque, Flagstaff, Los Angeles, San Luis Obispo, San Francisco," Larry said. "It's a bit obvious though, isn't it?"

"We've got friends we can hit up on the way," said Black Hermione. "I can open up doors you people wouldn't believe."

Microwave Explosion

4/17/2022 10:30pm

"Whatever you do, don't take off the nose."

"But it's REALLY uncomfortable," said Larry. "It's like it's trying to squirm into my nostrils!"

We hit a pothole and bounced around with the big diaper sacks. The truck was dark, but we could see streetlights through the windshield.

"Mmmsmmphr mmm hmmmphr!" went the dummy in the suitcase.

"And leave that shut," I said. "She's just agreeing with me. If you let yourself smell it, you'll go completely insane."

"I can still smell it. Even through the nose. It's like... cotton candy?"

"The human brain isn't equipped to process clown baby shit. Just don't think about it."

"Then isn't it dangerous for them to be transporting it into the city? Stockpiling dangerous chemical weapons?"

"There's a regulatory process. It's got to be disposed of within 72 hours, and only licensed Clown Diaper Disposal agents are allowed to handle it. It's not something they can do in Clown City. All their waste is transported up to the surface. Most of it -- cream pie tins, empty seltzer bottles, old giant shoes -- can go into regular landfill. But licensed CDD agents handle the rough stuff, and so they get a little leeway. Not even other clowns want to search their trucks. And not even clowns are crazy enough to militarize it."

The truck began to slow down.

"Coming to a checkpoint," I said. "Just sit tight. Breathe through your mouth."

The truck slowed down, then sped up again.

"See? They just waved us through. Next, we'll be coming up from under Florence Boulevard. Just keep your nose on and we'll be back in fresh air in no time."

Microwave Explosion

12/17/2021 11:56pm

Clown City. The rough part.

And yes that's a joke -- Clown City is all rough.

The passageway from the clown car cargo hold led to inside a warehouse in a gloomy part of town, but it was a part of town I was familiar with. I knew clowns from this part of Clown Town. Binkis, Bimbos, and Buffos. Patches, Peaches, and Popos. The kinds of clowns I used to do business with. The kind of clown that will cut you as soon as you take your eye off the knife.

"This way. I know a guy."

Larry followed like a good soldier, trench coat collar pulled up tight to his fedora. Rain poured down in the streetlight darkness, black and white. Mighty bleak landscape for clowns. Dark and dirty.

"Keep your face behind your brim. And if you get asked a question, don't say a word. You're my mute brother from Poughkeepsie, got it?"

"Well it's not too far from the truth."

I couldn't see his face.

I led us down a familiar alley and slid open a rusty door.

Microwave Explosion

9/9/2021 11:01pm

"Looks like you two know how to party," said the cabbie. He was flooring it through the empty streets of Old Town, Omaha. Some stray debris still floating down over our path.

"Yeah, well, that party's over. If you can get us back to the Aerodrome Grand without attracting any more attention, there's a big tip in it for you," Larry said.

"No problem at all, mister. You just sit tight."

The cabbie picked up his radio and mumbled something into it. Smelled like he'd had steak and onions for dinner, and had eaten it with his hands. From the back seat, I could just make out the side of his face in the passing streetlights. There was something odd there. Wrinkles? A burn scar?

Another streetlight passed, lighting it up for a moment. It wasn't wrinkles, it was make up. For some reason he had a thick layer of foundation, but it had rubbed up against his collar, exposing pure white underneath. Not "white skin" but literally white. Like snow. Or... clown makeup.

"Ethay abbiecay isyay ayay Ownclay," I whisper to Larry.

"Huh?"

"E'shay ayay Ownclay!" I whisper harder.

I can tell Larry's better at speaking pig latin than hearing it.

So the Clowns were in on it too now. This wasn't a good sign. And he probably wasn't planning on taking us to the Aerodrome Grand at all. No wonder Black Hermione knew we'd been burned.

Clowns. Running their creepy racket through secret agreements with the CGA. Keeping the public focused on the Clone Menace instead of the Clown Menace was in both their interests.

But they didn't seem interested in making friends with the House of Foo.

"MmmMmmmp mmm," went the suitcase. Larry opened it up.

"E'shay ayay Ownclay, osay it'syay ayay Ownclay Arcay. Ownclay Arcay!"

"I thought you said you didn't speak pig latin," Larry asked Hermione.

"So," said the cabbie over his shoulder. "Word is there's an accident up ahead. I'll need to take a little detour here," and he pulled us off in a different direction.

He's a Clown. It's a Clown Car. The kind they stuff a hundred of them in, so they just keep climbing out. Well, I'm no magician, but even I know how that one's done. Clown cars utilize inverted torpoidal convex integration to make their interiors much larger than they appear to be from the outside. There's usually a secret compartment, under the passenger seat... I begin to feel around with my feet, keeping my eyes on the cabbie.

I feel the door click open at my heel. A cool breeze wafts out.

The cabbie turned a corner, and I dropped to the sticky cab floor and wiggled through the hatch. It opened into a large, wide open space, dimly lit with a small dome light high above.

I reached back through the hatch and tugged on Larry's pantleg.

"Omecay onyay!"

Microwave Explosion

6/10/2021 11:25pm

"Finally! My favorite student! Returned!"

Black Herminone's dressing room was a mess. Part dressing room, part magician's prop department. Theater mirrors lined with lightbulbs made the room seem bigger than it was... or it did it go on forever?

"Unfortunately, I'm not home right now..."

The voice was coming from the longest legged box I'd ever seen. Great long legs like snakes in black and white striped stockings and red shoes, coming out of an ornate Chinese box the size of a small refrigerator.

"But if you want to leave a message..."

The legs crossed and recrossed themselves.

"Just start talking at the sound of the tone."

@Larry Fantasio was looking around the room. He brushed past me and in a lowered voice said "Esshay owingthray erhay oicevay!"

"What was that?" said Black Herminone. From a stuffed parrot in a bird cage, a globe with a face on it, and a large black top hat, respectively. "I don't speak Latin." The last sentence came from a golden sarcophagus leaning against the wall.

"Here!" Larry cried, pulling a ventriloquist dummy out from under a pile of feather boas.

"Now you just hold on a minute, little fella! Careful with the merchandise, seeeeee?"

The wooden eyes of the dummy shifted in a creepy way as it turned its head towards us.

"THIS is Black Hermione?" I asked? It was kind of a let-down.

"This? Oh no, Black Hermione is... well, a woman. And an old woman at that. At least in this time period. This is more--"

"Her homunculus," finished the dummy, with its drawstring mouth. "Updated 244976 mark 4, standard House of Foo time."

"She's left. But she uploaded her consciousness into this dummy on her way out."

"Waaaaay out." Said the ventriloquist dummy. "Because she's waaaaay out by now!"

Microwave Explosion

3/17/2021 10:07pm

Larry bangs on the metal door with his cane.

BAM. BAM BAM BAM. BAM BAM.

"I have to ask. Black Hermione. Why is she called that?"

BAM BAM BAM BAM. BAM. BAM BAM.

"We all take stage names in this business. Queen."

BAM BAM. BAM BAM. BAM.

"You sure she's home?"

BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM. BAM BAM.

"It's a long code."

And suddenly the tap door drops opens beneath us.

SWISHHHHHHHHHH

Microwave Explosion

12/24/2020 11:58pm

"Omaha Base, this is the Microwave Explosion. We are on approach."

"Roger that, Microwave Explosion. Be advised, the Scarecrow Concern is having a barn raising right along your trajectory. Tack 7 degrees west and join airlane C, do you copy?"

"Roger, Omaha Base, changing trajectory to airlane C now, over."

It's a full moon, and the skies are clear over Omaha. Real rustic kinda place. A little bit country. Nothing like Poughkeepsie. In the fields to the east I see bonfires, shadows dancing, and a huge wooden barn rising above the fields and slowly rotating. It glows green.

"Microwave Explosion we're going to need you to maintain a holding pattern for a little bit, do you copy?"

"You bet, Omaha Base. We've got nothing but time up here. Enjoying the view, over."

"Thanks for your understanding, Microwave Explosion. It's Coven Con IX coming up this weekend, and we've had tour groups from all over coming in non-stop. We've got to get a few of them taken care of, over."

Larry and I watch rank after rank of witches on broomsticks, flying formation and landing. Quite poorly, I might add. Either they were mighty tired, or they'd been having a few stiff ones at every layover from there to Phoenix.

"Thank you for your patience, Microwave Explosion. You are free to touch down. Dirigible pod E, mooring post 2, over."

"Copy that, Omaha Base. Bringing her in now."

The airfield is full of interesting characters. Eccentric barnstormers, sturdy mail carriers, sleek high-end passenger ships and the occasional military. Omaha certainly is hopping.

The ground crew pulls us in and we latch on to mooring post 2 with a satisfying clank.