Date: Thu, 09 Sep 1999 23:27:40 -0400
From: Larrkin
Subject: Venturing onto Venice Place"

Hi Flamingo!

So I'm sitting here thinking about this place I'd heard of...although, well...no, actually I must've *dreamed* about it because the weirdness level here is...okay, this was dream material. Or I'm seriously delusional...no, no, DREAM! This was a dream.

*sigh* I'm having trouble summing up the experience. I'll trya gain.

Picture dream, and I'm in this big building, I think. And it's called Venice Place, I think. And all these things are going on, the details of which I can best describe as surreal.

I mean, there's a hodgepodge of random elements including flamingo slippers, chocolate penises, green tassels, and Rambo Jim heads. And asI'm wandering the building I'm pretty sure I spotted a unicorn attacking an innocent container of Rocky Road ice cream whilst being serenaded by singing otters. I am, however, choosing to be in denial about the furry, spidery-looking leg sticking out from under a door that led to a room I had no intention of entering, because tarantulas are, IMHO, instruments of torture.

Oh, and speaking of instruments...no, wait...we'll get to that later. I'm feeling the need for a little comforting structure here so I'll stick with the wildlife for now.

To continue, there was an ELEPHANT! Which explains the pungent aroma wafting through the building. Of course contributing to that unique scent were...<counting off on my fingers a sexy panther, an even sexier thing I heard someone refer to as a "guppywolf" (and btw, these two seemed DAMNED fond of each other, but so did the clams, something I hadn't witnessed before and kinda wish I hadn't now,) and, ummm...oh, yeah! Here there be DRAGONS?

This smacks of incipient madness, so a little confirmation would be nice. Just assure me that I've still got all my marbles and I'll smile quietly and quit trying to rationalize my subjective experience, because,to be perfectly honest, I liked it in retrospect.

I mean, all these unusual types wandering around, four-legged and two-legged, were making an effort to foster a sense of collective harmony, right? I find that wholly appealing. Harmony works for me,andspeaking of harmony...no, we'll wait on that just a bit longer. There's something else about this creature stuff that I need to address.

At one point I hung my head out a second story window and lo and behold, beneath me, out on the sidewalk, was dear Ro, bestowing her sweet sweet smile and her patented, "How ya' doin', darlin?" to every passer-by whilst standing next to this foul and obnoxious cartful of what I'm tactfully going to describe as animal by-products. AND SHE'S SELLING THIS STUFF! She has this big painted sign that advertises the muck in the cart as "manure." Which is, to my way of thinking, overstating the obvious.

My curiosity gets the better of me and I call down. "Uh, Ro? Sweetie? What the hell are you doing?"

Ro spins for a few minutes, clearly confused and obviously wondering where this voice calling her name came from, and I realize how terribly cruel it is to do something like that to poor Ro.

"Up here, Ro!"

She twists and her cheery gaze finds me. "Oh THERE you are, honey! Isn't it a glorious day?"

I smile. "OH yeah. Um, I was just kinda wondering..."

"Did you see the flock of Canadian geese that flew over a little while ago?" She's almost dancing with joy. "It was so exciting!"

"Uhh, no I didn't. Sorry. I've been kinda touring the building and..."

"Oooooh, they were WONDERFUL!"

"I'm sorry I missed them."

"I named the leader Benny."

I could think of no reply.

"He dipped his wings to me and I called out 'Bye, Benny! See you in thes pring!'" <Ro laughter erupts "He was so CUTE!"

"Did you get a forwarding address?"

Ro stares at me for a minute, a pout threatening. "Nooo, I didn't."

"Honey, I was kidding."

She grins, looking downright pleased with herself and says, "I know, sweetlove. So what's up?"

I catch an errant, malodorous breeze and switch to breathing through my mouth. "I was jus woderig wha tha rank pile of fedid stuv is and why yu're oud there neggs to id."

I had to ask.

Now I find myself on the receiving end of this bizarre tale. Ro launches into her narration of earning money for a band, and something about being"HoRo," and not earning enough, and in fact ending up in KY debt, and deciding to make good use of what the menagerie inside was providing free on a daily basis.

"It's the most wondrous manure, honey!"

I nod, slightly dizzy because the effing breeze hasn't shifted yet. "Thas nize, Ro...goo lug!"

"Oh thank ya' kindly darlin'! You leaving?"

"Passig oud agshuly, babe..."

"Nah, just move away from the window--" says this deep voice behind me.

"And no one gets hurt," finishes another deep voice.

And I'm pulled back out of stench's way by a pair of strong hands and turned, and...and... (you'll like this part, Mamabird...are you still with me? Hang in there, I'm almost done.) I blink because I really hadn't expectedto see Starsky and Hutch standing there, grinning and shaking their heads and kinda leaning on each other while chuckling about someone named CrowRo.

Hutch glances my way, obviously noting my dazed expression. "Don't worry. You'll get used to it."

"To WHAT?" I squeak.

"Everything!" Starsky exclaims, waving an arm around in a quick, casual gesture.

"Guys," I say, "I-I was just supposed to meet Gloria here, and, and...elephants and panthers and humping clams, and," I lowered my voice for emphasis, "and I stumbled into what I THINK was a rumpus room but it was a little disturbing, you know? And there was this woman tacking flyers to the wall downstairs, and they read "Marcia for Orgy Mistress" and the effing unicorn didn't offer me any Rocky Road! And, guys, I *swear* I'm hearing this haunting blend of music, kind of a PartridgeFamily-Monkees-Barry Manilow-Captain and Tenille-Mozart-AC DC conglomeration that HURTS to hear."

"Take a breath," Hutch orders.

"Innnn, owwwwt, innnnnn, owwwwwwt," Starsky adds.

As if. I'm nearly hyperventilating and in NO mood to calm down and the next thing I know I'm screaming, "WHERE IS GLORIIIIAAAA?"

*whimper*

"Who?"

I stare. Both of them look utterly baffled. And I remember this weird thing I once heard...

"Glo...IRA?" I mutter.

Relief washes over their faces.

"OHHHHHH, Glo IRA!" Hutch nods, dazzling smile intact.

"Why didn't ya' just SAY so?" Starsky says with a shrug and a smart ass-wiggle of his memorable hips. "This way."

And now I'm really enjoying this because I'm FOLLOWING these two ever-so-nice behinds through the building and just when I'm hoping that this might take awhile I'm ushered into what looks like a band room.(Although I really don't *notice* where I am until I've crashed into Starsky from behind and bounced back a little. I plead guilty to focusing on what was most interesting.)

"Hi honey!" Glo who makes all the weirdness better with one hug. "Where have you *been?*" she asks, peering at me.

"I have no idea."

"You okay?"

"uhhh..."

"Wanna hear the band rehearsal? It'll be starting soon."

"uhhh..."

"See my baton?"

"HOLY SHIT!" Yeah, it's a chocolate penis.

Gloria laughs and asks me what instrument I want to play, and when I give her a squicky look she shakes her head at me and smiles and says, "Gotta choose one, or one will be ASSIGNED!"

"Man, give a person a baton and she becomes drunk with power."

At which point we're interrupted by this low chant-like murmur coming from the corridor..."Cloooooney, noooo, no, no, noooooooo."

"Uh oh," Starsky says.

"Yep." Hutch slaps his palm on Starsky's shoulder. "Let's go round up Mamabird"

I glance at Gloria who is shaking her head sadly. "Poor Mamabird.LCabrillo's Red Longjohn therapy is on 24 hour call."

"Right." Starsky nods, and the two of them head towards the sound which is getting closer.

"Georrrrrge...nooooo Georrrrrrge...no Clooooooneyyyy, nooooooooooooooooooooooo..."

I sidle up to Gloria. "Wha?"

And then, there YOU are, Flamingo, wandering into the room like a professional somnambulist, moaning deeply and with enough emotion to put Marley's ghost to shame.

I step behind Glo and watch over her shoulder, rather admiring the careful manner in which Starsky and Hutch steer you out of the room and down the corridor, talking gently to you all the while.

When the last strains of "Cloooooooooney noooo no Clooooney..." have faded, I murmur, "This is a scarey place."

She turns and hugs me and cries, "No, it isn't, honey! This is VenicePlace! Welcome!"

end of dream

I hope this is okay, Mamabird. Just wanted to have a little fun. I'm ready to beam up if you'll energize me into Venice Place. Thanks!

take care, Barb(Larrkin)