The Living Rockumentary

Henning and I met last night at the top-secret treehouse in the woods, high above the Valley. You can't find the tree unless you ask the one eyed raccoon to show you, and she's only available if you stuff a crisp Ben Franklin into the pocket of the chipmunk with the heavy Bulgarian accent. And just try to find him on a warm summer night. Maybe down by the watering hole in the red stoplight district, maybe causing drunken havoc on the highway. You never know, and I ain't sayin'.

Up in the treehouse we laid out blueprints, diagrams, sketches and a portrait of a duck. Henning insisted on the duck. The moon drifted in through the walls and sat down to look everything over. He took a swig of gin, wiped his gigantic mouth on his gigantic sleeve and said, "boys - looks good". There was a curious buzz of excitement from the forest below us. Crickets howled, the wind rocked the treehouse gently, and then not so gently. Finally, the wind yelled at us. "What's taking so long?!?". We got the point.

I rolled up the plans and sealed them with a hot wax stamp which read "SFTD". But when the wax had cooled it looked more like "FIG". Henning climbed on to his waiting taxi buzzard and flew away, off to watch the first drops of morning dew form on leaves too high for you to see. This is what he does while everyone else sleeps. That and chase Japanese beetles back to Japan. I slid down the tree like a fire pole, except there were lots of branches in the way. I'm sore, tired and annoyed that the moon drank the last of my top-shelf gin.

But we are happy to report the long-overdue artwork for The New You has been finished and is currently being hauled by an army of army ants to the extra top secret underground production facility.