Fantastic Metropolis

She called loudly for Allington her giraffe on wheels.

At three o’clock two checkered saucers dropped out of the sun and floated into her dream. When she woke up Colly was perched on the windowsill and Allington was there. Though home made by her unprincipled great grandfather he still had all his paint and his eyes were sparkling in the rain. Grannie boiled water for tea. Then in a commodious basket she stuck—her boxing gloves a big book of cross words her mermaid tail the bugle of pride one hundred rutabagas a lot of shoes—and fastened it to the saddle horn. She looked round the place one last time. Millions of bright yellow termites were devouring the woodwork.

coot coot coot whinnied the giraffe impatiently coot coot coot

Grannie shut her eyes and bid good bye to the tipped over cottage her wild flowers smile delighted with the morning sunlight see what you can do to mar the metal sphere of the world.

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Zari collected shells on the beach without getting her feet wet while the robots kept trying to get the rope to Boppy. The storm had broken off both ears of the idol and he was drowning. Clad in white jacket white trousers and sabots much too large for him he furnishes a good example of what is called the Unseen life.

Don’t mind me said grannie. Blotch what a scug heart breaking it is. People stubbornly refuse to believe in what they can’t follow. She noticed her dunce cap and tied it on. Heigho Allington! Off we go!

Boppy stuffed a white scarecrow full of money and set it free. It slowly rose to the surface and the robots hoisted it into the boat thinking that it was a harmless death twit. The viper mingles with the blood naturalists. Picking this future ended our search for the marvelous.

Whoy yes said Miss Delamere the old boy is looking pale. You poor dumb robots it’s only a borrowed Boppy. A dupe. His life body lies somewhere between reading and writing. Well?

Cautiously her valiant companions lowered the rope and Boppy was rescued. The unfortunate river horse was greatly changed by his latest feat. Hitherto he had been acting like a fool now he was thoughtful in every way. As they joined Zari on the beach he assumed an air of mischief blundering over her sandcastles and mimicking the robots especially when Zari began to giggle.

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And then a crowd turned up from everywhere in underland all the characters gathered together determined to leap like a pack of hounds on the uproarious Cœur de lying. Boppy felt a good deal older and wiser having reached the stars. He had learned his own worth outside the cage. Granny cried hive o’ bees when she found her long lost wax boy oozing towards the barricades she sprang to the ground and wiping the tears away with her apron added him to the contents of her basket. Soft hearted Iffy and Willie choose to be in love adopt Zari and return to what’s true. Colly never felt prouder. Many of the others seem to lack direction. The imperturbable robots want to go back to playing table tennis or horse shoes and the dead are still depressed. Revolution said the deposed writer reading this aloud. Don’t fritter away your nondescript life. The most elaborate truth imaginable can’t stop the lies that blanket our existence. What is more Miss Delamere never could abide blithe novels. For her this dream always ends in disgrace.

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Allan Kausch is an editor, surreal collagist and author from the San Francisco Bay Area. He has had a handful of shows of his original collages, and is the author of five books: Voyage of Exile, Blackberry Castle, The Wax Baby, Fetch the Stick Dog and Remorse Code and Other Tantrums. A devoted Dickhead, he organized the massive preproduction of the six volumes of the Selected Letters of Philip K. Dick. Until recently he worked as the Continuity Editor for Lucasfilm Ltd., serving as the Star Wars expert under George Lucas, and he received the Harvey and Eisner awards for his editing of Star Wars comic-books. He is now pursuing a freelance existence.

“Remorse Code” is from his latest book, Remorse Code and Other Tantrums, of which noted montagist Winston Smith has said: “These artist books are really cool… Max Ernst would be amazed at his legacy… great!”