Monthly Archives: December 2019

back to 0 (2 (4))

Baker Bloch Guy Benjamin woke up with the fuse. He looked around… groggily. End of Time, hmph. Where’s, er, Hucka D.? “Hucka Doobie,” he said aloud. “What the heck did we drin–“. But he stopped himself mid-sentence because no one was with him. He groaned, holding his head. He felt like a Sledgehammer hit it. Big Time. “Peter,” he spoke aloud again. “Something abou–” He scanned the room more closely. He clearly remembers a bell. Bell sound, yeah. It woke him up. The fuse…

(to be continued)

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… back to zero

After work, Fish Head removed his fish (tattoo) and became just the Head.

From his perch in the sky, he saw *everything*. All 100 of it.

But now…

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Cat pole star

He was in a totally different dream place this time where everyone seemed to speak Chinese. He understood enough (somehow) to know that his mission was to retrieve something from that eye filled alley back there behind the soup restaurant here.

“Patriotic Soup Store closing in 5 mister. You’ll have to finish your food and go.” Herbert Gold looked at the squat cook standing on a high platform to stir his vat of soup. From the tone of his voice and then the aftermath stare, Herbert gathered he’d have to leave.

He then studied the big bowl of P-soup in front of him, realizing he’d never be able to polish it off — hadn’t even actually touched it, in fact. “You can have this back,” he then offered, pushing the bowl across the counter. The cook shook his head, seemingly in non-understanding but then uttering, in perfect English: “No refunds,” surprising him.

Herbert was about to protest that he didn’t want any money for the soup and that he just hated to waste such a goodly amount of food — a byproduct of growing up in tough Bennington Square — when a noise of something falling occurred behind him, drawing his attention to the end game of his current dream. When turning around after *seeing* nothing, he noticed the VHS tape beside him on the counter. The part of the title that he could read on its edge was, “(with) Other Other”. He realized *this* was what he was suppose to eye-ball here. Not something back in the alley.

He looked at the soup cook again for hints about what it was. Did the cook slip him this tape at some point? *What* was with Other Other? Or perhaps apart from Other Other now; Chinese against English?  A yin yang, black and white cat that was also red all over? He logically thought back to Omega town and the newspaper referenced there through black, white, red. DDD. A dream, yes. He must keep remembering this is not Real. None of it.

“2 minutes,” the cook exclaimed, the glare from his face intensifying along with his stirs. Should he ask the cook to translate the Chinese underneath this cat? Was there an *opening* there to do this?

“1 minute.” He showed him the tape.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, Kowloon, Louisiana

gynoid too

It was logical to bring Tronesisia next into the current story for more clarification. Tronesisia, after all, was originally created as a pleasure bot for earlier Collagesity, usually seen hanging around The Mission LINK. Later she evolved beyond her initial programming and eventually became married to soulmate Bendy — after she learned she actually had a soul herself. Bendy, however, will not be part of this particular story. We cannot locate his whereabouts and Tronesisia is quite protective of him. But Tronesisia states she is very available for questioning. She has nothing to hide about her past, her present, even her future as she understands it. Which is a lot.

“Tronesisia,” I began. “Thank you for chatting with us a bit.” I found her in Dewey, exactly where we left off her story in, let’s see, well it was the last photo-novel. 16. We decided to talk about that first after reconvening in my NWES coffee shop for, again, logical reasons.

Cut to 3 exchanges later….

“I was asked to be the judge and jury of an art theft, Baker Bloch,” she rattled on. “I originally decided to kill the determined criminal before reversing my decision and bringing him back to life. This would be Herbert Gold, husband of April Mae Flowers. They are both alive, last I checked, and living in Snowlands.” Here Tronesisia tilts her head, her blue eyes gazing over my shoulder into the distance.

She stared back. “I stand corrected. Herbert Gold is again dead, having succumbed in his sleep earlier in photo-novel 17.”

“The current one,” I decided to add.

“Yes.” She tilts her head again; her blue eyes go blank once more. “No, new information has revised the old and found he is still alive. Just as — I — was — receiving…” The eyes go dead now. Tronesisia has shut herself off, perhaps experiencing some kind of overload. We would have to continue our chat another night, pheh.

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gynoid

“So what do you think, Hucka Doobie?”

“I think you need to move your hands down a bit,” she joked, making Baker Bloch derez the silly thing he’s uselessly holding.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he replied while smiling. He also changed into his base avatar. Illegitimate son of the famous Space Ghost and, well, we only know his mother as Old Grey in the blog.

“Yes.” Hucka Doobie gets serious, looks at Baker’s new collage more closely. “This is about gynoids. Do you know what a gynoid is?”

“No,” Baker Bloch admitted. “Is it some sort of fruit or seed?”

“It’s a female robot, usually a pleasure bot.”

“Oh.” Baker Bloch turned and looked at the collage as well, at the glossy, red cheeked Anon mask looming in the sky. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Hucka Doobie answered, knowing what the male Baker was referring to. “This is you (!)”

“But also…”

“Yes,” Hucka Doobie replied quickly again. “This is Wheeler.”

“But…”

“You and Wheeler are married.”

“Um, nah that’s not correct Hucka. *Axis* and Wheeler are married.”

Hucka Doobie ignored this from Baker Bloch; began to study other parts of the collage. “What is Real, then?”

“Reality.” He waves his arms. “All around us.”

“*This*,” Hucka Doobie declared firmly, “is *not* reality.”

“It is to us,” Baker attempts to defend. Hucka Doobie wasn’t persuaded.

—–

“What about the other parts of the collage?” I continued. “The centipede I believe. Puerto Rico. Obviously this is about Rael. Lamb’s Rael.”

“What is Real?” Hucka Doobie repeated, and left it at that.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, End of Time^^

Merry Hell

He loved listening to Bing’s Song on the music box. But “White Christmas” was over in Eot and he was melting. He’d have to go back to Kowloon to keep perpetually frosty. He didn’t understand quite why, except that he was *made* there, much like Guy Benjamin’s Grandmama and Grandpapa. He must get lost inside the maze, only to be found when the Heart Queen good and well wanted him to for her traitorous ways. Because she was back at it (some things never change). He could room with Satan Santa again. Safe bet that he’s not living with anyone still, being there’s a Hell Portal right smack in the middle of the kitchen ceiling.

He likes to use it to warm his tush while he’s cleaning the counter.

—–

“Sure you can stay with me again, Frosty.” He points to the corner furthest away from the kitchen. “Park your half melted carcass right over there behind the bathtub.”

—–

“Oh man,” he thought to himself. Stuck in this spot the rest of the winter. Unless the Heart Queen needs me. Sounds pretty good right now.

—-

“Pass the soap, wouldn’t you Frosty?”

“Sure thing, Satan, er, Santa.”

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Heart Queen

Some things never change.

—–

“Fish Head! Give us a report.”

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