The Alphaville Herald

Squattin’ Life Part 4: Home Decor

by Alphaville Herald on 13/05/10 at 12:24 pm

by Pappy Enoch, Shiftless Bum With Good Taste

Well, I done escaped the horrible fate my rotten sister Jezzybell done prepared for me. Now that she am out o’ the way for a few days, I can return to cornsiderin’ the finer points of prettying up your squat. Ol’ Squat 2.0 done hung in for three dang weeks, so them flyin’ monkeys ain’t found me yet! Time to make it all cozy-like! Here am how:

Arcadia Asylum Library & Museum:  She were the Queen o’ hobo livin’ an’ ain’t too high-falutin’ for po’ folks like me. But them damn Lindens messed up her inventory and wouldn’t help. I reckon they didn’t was riled at her because she made FREE stuff them rascals cain’t tax. Miss Arcadia may have stopped makin’ stuff, but her freebies am still about and you can grab yo’self a pile of them at the Shrine that some admirers done built. Donate some spare change when you am there!

Sleezywood Trailer Park: Some things you got to make do without Arcadia’s help, however. My fav’rite were an old fush-tawlet with plastic flowers in the bowl (read on, because it are gone). I got me this idear at Sleezywood, an’ you should git on by there to pick up some first-rate decoratin’ tips.

They am smart folks like Miss Pruella Burleigh livin’ there; her name skeered me at furst…too much like "Petunia." But Pruella am a pretty gal and not a withered ol’ pruny prude) who hung up Pappy’s election sign for Mayor o’ Hard Alley. I tell you what, I ain’t done with politics yet, when I sees good-lookin’ wimmin stick my photygraph on the wall, but I are digressin somwhat.

Calletta: How qwik we forgets that them hobos been squattin’ long afore the idear come to dumb-bunnies like me. Mosey on down to the water front an they am a rusty ol’ tramp steamer with HEAPS o’ good stuff that fits my idears for perfect decor. An’ if’n you city folks thinks I talks a trifle odd, just you wait until you tries to figger out King Orhalla Zander’s Hobo-lingo.

Borrowin’ Stuff: Rich folks in the fake world don’t even know what are in their inventories. Borrow a item. When they asks for it back, if they does, tell ‘em you crashed because them Linden Flyin’ Monkeys tripped on a power cord (again) or spilled coffee on them servin’ mersheens, and the whole fake world blowed up for a couple hours. When you come back, that Louis Cathorse Frenchy-fied chair or bidet or whatever the hell it were ended up plumb gone and you am very very sorry about the hole thing so how about a drink?

Say now, who the hell would invent a bidet or want one back if’n it up and vanished? I done had a French feller explain the concept and I still ain’t no closer to wisdom.

What you got to include to be a first-rate squatter:

Objets d’ Art: I done covered the finer points o’ the art world in my last collum , so go back and read it. I didn’t add that any paintin’ with Jesus or Elvis or a truck in it are first rate. I got me some with at least two o’ them subjects on one canvas! Whee hoo.

Rumpus Room: Even if, like me, you ain’t got no roof, you needs a spot for yo’ pals to come over for some hard drinkin’, ha-has, then shootin’ stuff. Be shore you leaves ‘em some upliftin’ entertainment too, if’n they stops by and you ain’t home.

TV am good, but I reckons they ain’t no better rumpus to be had than a campfire (so’s somebody can fall in, light up, an’ run around until you finds the water bucket). Then put out some old crates. They makes good chairs, an’ until your friends’ butts wears ‘em smooth, at lest one rascal will get a butt-splinter every nite. That am pure fun, too, less’n he wants you to pull it out. Then just shoot the rascal an’ git more friends.

Lots o’ Guns: Speakin’ of shootin’ stuff, lay them shootin’ irons about plentiful, so’s you can go down in a blaze o’ glory if’n them Flyin’ Monkeys shows up to give you the ol’ one-two. Leave the best gun in the outhouse, cause that am where them Lindens proberly will try to git you.

Pappy’s Po’ Folks Squattin’ Kit: If’n you IMs me when you am next in the fake world o’ Second Life, I’ll send you one. In that crate you will get some o’ Arcadia’s best stuff, LMs to my fav’rite freebie stores and other locales, an’ some o’ Pappy’s home-made signs so’s you can set up like a pro!

Tawlet not included. I don’t wants to make ya’ll lazy–go make one like Pap done did.

PS: How I done give Jezz the slip (I know ya’ll was wonderin’ about that):

She unwired the TNT from my outhouse (just in time, cause I had to lose a load some kind of bad). I done got her a cats-eye "shooter" marble and said they am worked up about them in town when it come to glass eyeballs. That-there marble falls out some, because o’ the small size, but Jezz put some superglue into her eyehole.

Now Jezz got two eyes like a human person who ain’t played roller derby agin’ Big Bertha Bodacious, Cap’n o’ the Cornville C-Cup Crushers (an’ my Prom Date, back in the day–hoo whee I still cain’t walk rite after that). Bertha am one hellacious eye-poker.

See ya’ll soon as I sobers up. Don’t hold your breath on that one. Good luck squattin’ until the fake world ends!