Chapter 11 - Musthug the Marmot and The Littlest HugaBird Attend the Music Show
SFX: CUE “I'm Waiting for My Man” by The Velvet Underground
“I'm waiting for my Man
Twenty-six dollars in my hand
up to Lexington, one, two, five
Feel sick and dirty, more dead than alive
I'm waiting for my Man”
Musthug the Marmot could not believe this was happening to her. A few short hours ago she had been her normal boring marmot self, living life in Marmot Heights, an upper middle class neighborhood overlooking Mot Francisco, a hilly city known for its year-round fog, on the tip of a peninsula surrounded by the Mot-cific Ocean and Mot Francisco Bay, in northern Bungalows; and now here she was “waiting for her Man,” on her favorite corner barstool in their favorite restaurant, MotHorse Hill. MotHorse Hill was the Girls’ favorite restaurant because it was the only restaurant in all Marmot Heights where you could get both greens, grasses, berries, lichens, mosses, roots, and flowers; and invertebrates, seeds, buds, olives and peanuts.
“Hey, white boy, what you doin' uptown?
Hey, white boy, you chasin' our women around?
Oh pardon me sir, it's the furthest from my mind
I'm just lookin' for a dear, dear friend of mine
I'm waiting for my Man”
Musthug flipped through her Phone nervously. She was obsessed with an extremely obscure reference on the subject of “Do oysters flinch when you squirt lemon juice on them?” (The answer was, “Elles doivent grincer (they must wince).”
“Here he comes, he's all dressed in black
Beat up shoes and a big straw hat
He's never early, he's always late
First thing you learn is that you always gotta wait
I'm waiting for my Man, ah work it now”
She looked up just in time to see her “Man,” or more precisely, her go-to Girl The Littlest HugaBird, flit through the front door, Kitty corner to her right.
“Up to a brownstone, up three flights of stairs
Everybody body's pinned you, but nobody cares
He's got the works, gives you sweet taste
Ah then you gotta split because you got no time to waste
I'm waiting for my Man”
The Littlest HugaBird was a Long-tailed Tit. With her tiny, round body, short stubby bill and very long, narrow tail, she looked for all the World like a “pleasantly plump little Bird dumpling” (Carly Brooke, The Featured Creature.com). Her plumage was mainly black and white, with variable amounts of grey and pink, depending on her mood.
“Did you get them?” Musthug asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. The Littlest HugaBird came to light on the back of the high-top barstool to Musthug’s right. The Littlest HugaBird’s platter of invertebrates, seeds, buds, olives and peanuts (and her glass of sap) had arrived while The Littlest HugaBird was out of the restaurant.
“Baby don't you holler, darlin' don't you bawl and shout
I'm feeling good, you know I'm gonna work it on out
I'm feeling good, I feel oh so fine
Until tomorrow, but that's just some other time
I'm waiting for my Man, walk it home”
“What do you think?” The Littlest HugaBird retorted in her high-pitched, pure, quiet but penetrating voice. She mischievously cast before Musthug a Ziploc Snack Bag containing what appeared to be (and what in fact were) two Designer Mini Baking Cups containing what appeared to be (and what in fact were) two homemade brownies. She then turned her attention to delicately hovering over a particularly lively beetle on her platter too big to be swallowed immediately.
“Where did you get them?” Musthug asked, quickly covering the small package with a napkin.
“From a field mouse,” The Littlest HugaBird quietly twittered. She hung by one foot from a twig, which was suspended from a small portable swingset deployed over her place setting for this very purpose, prior to her platter’s arrival, by the attentive restaurant staff. “Field mice always have brownies.”
“That is so species-ist,” Musthug objected, watching as The Littlest HugaBird held the struggling insect in her other foot and pecked at it.
“Well, if you don't want yours . . . “ The Littlest HugaBird trilled softly.
“No, no,” Musthug whistled quickly. “I mean, it’s supposed to be fun, right?”
“You’ll see!” The Littlest HugaBird laughed. “You got the Tickets, right?”
“Yes, HugaBird,” Musthug replied snarkily, yet still fondly. She laid out on the bar before them two concert tickets:
Fig. 5. Concert Tickets
“Heck to the yes you did! Crisp!” The Littlest HugaBird raised her glass in a toast. “Come on, dork! Drink up! What could go wrong?”
TO BE CONTINUED
NEXT SEASON ON
VEL & SAR
SOUND FX: Cue “Little Fluffy Velveteens” by Velveteen And The Safety Snaps
Intro: Insert sample
Lil Boochie PI: This town runs on three things. And when I walked through the door, I could smell ‘em all!
Rico Suave: What's the dance now?
Velveteen: It's ok. I trust him.
Electro voice: What's the dance? (Repeat as necessary)
Do the Velveteen, do you know what I mean?
Do the Velveteen, live in a dream
Do the Velveteen, SRY is the gene
Announcer: Was it death by natural causes -- or a simple case of murder?
Saran: Vel! Look out! (Gunshots, scream)
Rico Suave: What's the dance now?
Velveteen: It's ok. I trust him.
Electro voice: What's the dance? (Repeat as necessary)
Do the Velveteen, do you know what I mean?
Do the Velveteen, live in a dream
Do the Velveteen, nice and clean
Announcer: In a forest where the field mice reign supreme, one bunny dares to hop alone: FOO FOO!
Rico Suave: What's the dance now?
Velveteen: It's ok. I trust him.
Electro voice: What's the dance? (Repeat as necessary)
Do the Velveteen, do you know what I mean?
Do the Velveteen, live in a dream
Do the Velveteen, SRY is the gene
Do the Velveteen, nice and clean
Do the Velveteen, do you know what I mean?
Do the Velveteen, live in a dream
Do the Velveteen, SRY is the gene
Do the Velveteen, nice and clean
Do the Velveteen, now you know what I mean
Do the Velveteen, now your life is a dream
Saran: For Velveteen to live . . . Jack must die!
Alpha Prime: Velandia will be mine!
