Monthly Archives: June 2019

past

As a child, she often came to the “Pipe Room” underneath the bank her father worked at to play. For a long time, she figured this room is how the town got its name somehow. Someone, perhaps famous, perhaps even *infamous*, was trapped in this room with these pipes, she imagined. Witness the bars covering the small windows on the door and the wall.

African-American nudie photo above the lone table. Perhaps someone black, then, she reasoned early on. Maybe Jim A. would know more of the story. But as far as he knew he was the only black that ever lived in Pipersville (he personally preferred “brown”). *And*, he quickly correct, the town was named for an original settler named Piper. Nothing more. “But the room had to have *some* function,” she replied to Jim. “Stop trying to dig up dirt on that place,” he requested, understanding the town powers and what they could do. Something a child shouldn’t know about. She’d learn soon enough, when she was older.

Then, overnight, the town grew a suburb, the aforementioned Sandpiper Court with its three houses. Your Mama’s family moved into the middle of the 3. She began to sing at the local club called The Diamond, owned by this very same Jim. In truth he was trying to distract her from the room and from town mysteries in general. Plus she could really belt out the tunes.

It would be a number of years before she started being called the name she became famous with: Your Mama. Not a child any longer. And she took the name shortly after learning the truth about the room. And Jim.

(to be continued?)

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beginning

“Tillie! I found something. Tillie?!”

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satellite

They were back in Maebaleia/Satori after a quick sidetrip to Hana Lei Hidiland. Tillie was sitting in the… catbird seat. She had supreme control now, white arms, right and the other one, covered and protected once more. Notebook remains undamaged. Bumbling Baker Bloch and his bike were positioned a safer distance away this time. “Well…?”

“Do you like my white forest, Baker Bloch?” she called across the distance. “I like to keep trophies.”

“Conquests.”

“Yes. You need me, I need you. Come here,” she beckoned. “Come closer. The computer is not a problem any longer. Forget about it. Come here.”

Baker Bloch edged closer, his bike with him.

“Closer,” she still requested.

Biking Baker complied.

“Ahem, too close.”

“Right. Sorry.” The white distance was finally assumed.

“We need to talk.”

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one third

“So. We finally meet in this novel. The 2 core avatars.”

“But… you’re…”

“I know who I am, Baker Bloch. Sit down. Let’s cuddle.”

“We don’t do that.”

“Right. Quite white, er, right.” Tillie continued to rub lotion onto her colorful arms.

“Well…?” Baker finally asked. The male Baker.

Tillie sighed. “I guess we’ll have to classify this place as another one of those Hana Leis. But that will bring, let’s see — be a love, dear, hand me my notebook out of my bag.” She glances over, sees the bike wheel parked atop the bag. “Oh dear, love, I hope it isn’t damaged in any way.”

“Sorry about that.” Baker backs the bike up and gets off, reaches down into the bag for the requested computer, looks it over. “Seems to be okay.” He hands it to Tillie, who powers it up.

“Yes. You’re lucky this time. But what I wanted to check was the frequency of the ‘H’ locations.” Light flickers across her pancake face. “Ah yes, you see if we classify this as another one of those Hana Leis, that will bring the total to 19, beyond the 17 for Heartsdale and 15 for Horizons in the 3H Club. Maybe add a 4th, then.” She slides the notebook back into the bag, props herself up with her hands. “Hidiland,” she decides. “That’s it. What do you think?”

“How about just Grasslands,” he returns. “Ahh, a bee!”

“No, it has to be the 4th of the ‘H’s, like the Club.”

“4H Club.” His arms flail again. “Dad gum bee.”

“Yes. Head, Hand, Health,” she recites. “Always forget the 4th.”

“You know what the 4th is.” The bee had subsided the attack.

She giggles, then puts her finger against her turned cheek, causing a temporary dimple. “Meee?” The smile continued.

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end of brown

Somebody should be here.

—–

Goodbye shack. For now.

Grasslands here we come.


And yet she remains on the sandy part.

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connection

“I don’t think the creature was a possum,” Gabby modified later in after-vision shocks. “Nor was it a cat named Peepee. Something else. Something in our future.”

“Go on,” urged Brother Amos, back to gathering as if his life depended on it. Because it did.

“I’m seeing… I’m seeing…” He briefly pulled up from his own gathering position. “*Seed*.”

—–

“Tillie, we’re out of seed. Time to call Grasslands again.”

“Okay,” the 4 colored clown replies from the garden. “I’ll ring them up as soon as I finish weeding this row.” As if my life depended on it, she then thought. Strange — why did I think that?

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Niagara

“Well Gabby,” requested Brother Amos, “What do you see? Unfurl the whole long, boring story of how we got here and where we’re going.”

“Yeah,” exclaimed Marilyn in her breathy, ditzy way. “The fire is, *raging* out of con-trol; the earth is, *swamping* us alll…”

“I’m seeing something,” gabbed Gabby suddenly. “2 more; 4 total. A teal figure. Some kind of… creature. And the 4 colored clown. Um, *stumpy*, not as tall as a normal person. But much larger than the creature still.” He pulled his white face away from the scrying ball. “A possum I’m concluding. A clown and a possum.”

“*That’s* our, *fu-ture*?” cooed Marilyn. Warhole across the way pounded one iron fist into another, obviously displeased. “Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn,” he monotoned. “Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn… Marilyn.”

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elements

Amos Truth kept making his sacks for the seeds and trying to ignore the heat.

The local fire extinguishers had long run dry.

The pineapple forest remained safe for now thanks to the intermediary Tall House.

This side of Route 8 was on fire.

“Hurry up, Brother Gabby. Not much more time for gathering.”

“I hear ya, Brother Amos. I hear ya loud and clear.”

Gabby then goes on to repeat the very long story about how Earth had already taken over the town across the road, ending with, “Where’s Air? Where’s Water? pheh. Only a matter of time if you ask me.”

In town, Betty, Carolyn, Marilyn, and Boop tried to keep soiled stains out of their clothes to no avail.

Toppsity was pretty much inundated.

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born seekers

When Tillie was feeling a little gaseous (which was fairly often), she’d sometimes go down to this bench by the water’s edge so as not to bother Tealy, who was always hard at work around the cottage doing house chores, gardening, and not what. Tillie was lazier by nature, a dreamer. She’d see things in the Rubisea water. Nymphs sometimes. Fish — but that was just because there were fish in the lake. Then a sea monster one time, but she was on some weird kind of dope. She said it was for her stomach, but really it fell under recreational usage. She’d taken the same stuff 4 times now, and decided to stop when the water and the accompanying feeder stream (now just a waterfall, where in past times it was a full stream) turned blood red. Tasted like blood too after she dared to dab a tiny bit on her tongue. Rubisea — the name comes from ruby, like the ruby color of blood. Nasty Branch was the name of the feeder stream. She’d merely revealed the past behind the present through the drug. But no more.

She was feeling better now. She would return to the house and help Tealy with whatever he was doing at the moment. They were a team, but sometimes Tillie had to do her own thing for a while, drugs included. Tealy had never taken drugs, but he drank like a drunken sailor. So they each had their vices. Oh, and Tealy flew airplanes. He was an ace of the First World-Wide Web War (WWWWI).

“Hand me that (hand) spade please, Tillie,” a drunken Tealy requested to his partner after she reentered their home. “I have a feeling that diamond is there for the taking today.” Oh, and he was a prospector of sorts. Or at least for one particular mineral, a gem he’d personally named Jim. “Gotta go dig for Jim,” he might say randomly during any period of intoxication. “Jim’s beckoning me today; I can feel it in my heart.” He even started a Jim Club composed only of himself, but, formerly, Tillie. For she admitted — probably when she was on some kind of dope, because she would never be so insensitive straight — that Jim was imaginary, and represented his own, lost soul. Member no more.


Drinking beer and digging for Jim out behind the garden.

(to be continued?)

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seeds

They both wanted a role, and they were a natural pair. Reintroducing to the reader or readers: Tealy and Tillie. Combined: TILY.

They lived here:

—–

“Perfect day isn’t it Tillie.”

“It always is Tealy.”

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