When I arrived on the scene of Royal Doll Town, it threw a spanner in the works and Queen Marcheline had to quickly resolve my official position in the proceedings of things. I absolutely begged and pleaded and pitched and pitched for a purpose and place at court. Eventually, I ingeniously mapped out the cyber route for her. The idea of extending her Queendom to the limitless corridors, paths and nebulous nephological pockets of cyberspace greatly appealed to her especially if it meant she could reach out and embrace a whole new encrypted populace of satellite partisans swearing allegiance to beautify things. She was clueless about the internet and modern technology and the closest analogy she could fathom with regards cyberspace was derived from a splendid pictorial book in Libertine’s Library presenting multi-coloured photographs depicting breath-taking stellar nebulae. I think she somehow pictured cyberspace to be some sort of fandangled, spangled, candy coloured nebular with her new cyberspace cadet fans spectrally wafting calmly about on cotton candy clouds, stroking hirsute kittens, sampling heavenly pastel frosted cakes and sipping misty Crème de menthe cocktails, while being ethereally beautiful and doing ethereally beautiful things. This vignette evidently inspired her to conceptualize the expansion of her Dollony into a new dimension. She stood staring dreamily into space for hours, literally, as dolls can do that. She was musing and mapping out her great ambitions while I lay napping on Libertine’s chaise longue. Wait! What am I saying? There was no time for napping I was furiously taking notes and making sketches. The wheedling had paid off. I was just about to be gainfully employed as her Cybiographer. At last a real job! I had to look busy. The King swooped by and startled his dear wife’s reverie. “Oh my Love!” She enthused. “Imagine this,” and alluded to the stellar canopy, as it was quite night by now. “A grand and bubbly extension of my Queendom out there. A frothy milkshaky, municipalacey burgeoning majestically on the fringes of the Milky Way. A Xanadu with your beautiful thought bubbles.” She indicated moi. “You see, we truly do require a bubbly network of beautiful minds because the negative mental health of humans is affecting the well-being of the planet not to mention my Queendom! I need you people to cyber route your imaginations into one big great massive Nebubbular of Beautannia! And the Nebubbular of Beautannia could be part of the Common Health of Royal Doll Town!” She gleefully squealed and stared wide eyed at the King and I. The King, with an air of grace and intense philosophical stoicism which he perennially displays, dryly remarked: “My Darling, sorry to uh burst your bubble, as it were, but do we really need to include the Consumans into our schemata? Mightn’t they prove to be our downfall?” The Queen vexed and I perplexed: “I beg your pardon Your Majesty? The who are you talking about?” And His Highness tactfully explained to me that on account of the unbridled consumerism of humans, we were alluded to as 'Consumans' by the Avian Reconnaissance Monitoring Earth Network. You see, the King has flown the skies for centuries and from his perspective, humans have gradually spread across the planet like an ugly cancerous growth decimating and disfiguring the once beautiful face of the planet. I was highly embarrassed and uncomfortable, as truth be told, I fitted the bill. Why oh why did I always want more stuff? Why is enough never enough? Why do the dearly departed get me to dash off and buy their old knick knacks? I jotted down an immediate mental note to self: transitioning Consuman. I was going to change my ways just as soon as I bought a new stepper machine and better vegetable juicer. The King regarded me straight in the eyes and asked: "Are you ever going to take stock?" I squirmed not knowing where to look. I remorsefully apologised and promised to improve my bad habits, all the time wondering if it was actually possible at all. Libertine had by now appeared upstairs like an angelic apparition in her lacy white garb silhouetted against the porcelain full moon. She had overheard my awkward apology. Being the compassionate, laissez-faire mannequin she is, she gave me a great shove against the shoulder and playfully scolded "YOU, are going to need a whole lot of buffing before you twinkle!" "I know. My Nebubbular!" The Queen looked anxious and equally doubtful.
I don’t think the King was entirely blown away by his wife’s new venture, but he let her get her way and she finally made me her official Cybiographer in order to get the Nebubbular machine up and blowing into the cyber world as it were. Initially she was perfectly sceptical of my writing abilities and artistic merits and inquired whether I was actually a professional artist or writer. I couldn’t very well fib, so I flouted the unremarkableness of an endless and aimlessly long professional painting or penning career amounting to nothing spectacular in favour of a fledgling novice one filled with hope and possibility because it was fuelled by passion and a heart pumping zest to create something special for her. Besides, who else was there? Her confounded glare gave way and she stringently remarked: “Very well, that will do, but I’m in charge.” “Naturally Your Majesty.” I replied and danced the mental funky chicken dance. Cluck cluck what LUCK! Finally I nailed that job! Although daunted by the King's severity and the nebulous description of my task at hand, it was going to be great. I could feel it. Rule Beautannia, Beautannia rule the world - well the Milkshakey Way at least! I can just catch a glimpse of it over Libertine's shoulder, way out there - Queen Marcheline's Nebubbular - a bedazzling bubbly fest of beautiful twinkling thoughts. Come and think for yourself - the view from here is Spectacular Stellarcular!
The Cybiography of Queen Marcheline CLICK HERE:
AND HE SAID:
"Truly I tell you,
You're NEVER too old to be young at heart
P l a g i a r i s m is
a plague D O N ' T
S P R E A D I T ! ! !
R e s p e c t