Thursday, March 18, 2010

THE SECRET DIARY OF HUCKLEBERRY HOUND

Day Ten, and again my best moments left to rot on the cutting room floor. While I am down here, collapsed, sweating out blue horse tablets, my green plastic wife is upstairs redly drying her hair with the silver gloved claw of Doctor Doom. It's all part of the four color process. Nothing is real, everything is permitted. Believe me, I have seen the inky knick knacks of God Almighty and the way they clutter the projector room, sticking to your lungs if you dare to breathe deep. To be pastel is to be pain. Face into the wind. The tears dry faster.

Quick Draw McGraw: hung like a horse, but he shoots too quick. If one is truly two dimensional, then three can hide forever in a mirror on the wall. Any wall. But if it breaks . . . El Kabong.

Be careful as you dress. Each time you miss a belt loop, it rains - the colors run, the tall buildings weep; the pain on the faces is real even if the fronts are false. I know how things work in this business. Bullwinkle has never been to Butte, Montana, or seen it disguised as Washington D.C. And Rocky, the Flying Squirrel -- well, Rocky is a girl. Lost and gone forever. Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

I flicker in the dark like a wastrel. I joined the police force for awhile, to make a difference; but Offisa Pupp had it in for me more than Ignatz, so next stop, French Foreign Legion. It's hard to be openly gay in the talking cartoon animal game these days. Anthropomorphics breed the worst kind of ghosts, the true Children of the Damned. Yogi Bear consults at the U.N. Well, fuck him. Boo Boo blows him in a cave all winter long; if you think that's dignified or glorious, treat yourself to a pick-a-nick basket. And don't call us, we'll call you. That's what they told me, as the licensing agreement ran out.

Pencil thin mustaches, twin cavemen in a boulder car - mute psychopaths thinking with their clubs, and wearing feet like angel leather. Everybody here has an angle except me. I only joined to forget. I only wanted to be pure. Yes. Dreadful sorry about that. Really I am.

1 comment:

  1. This is amazing! I am truly saddened by Huck's plight, and disturbed by the fragile reality of the animated world. Thank you for this window into what looks, in my mind's eye, like a glitchy impressionistic version of an already glitchy old cartoon.

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