“You were all elevating each other,” spoke Monroe, wise from the night before. “Propping each other up, *feeding* off each other. You, *Peter*.” He points to Axis here. “‘Lamb’,” he cites. “You, Marty.” Points to softly strumming Marty here, composing yet another potential gold plated single. “‘Venus and Mars’. Am I right?” He looks toward The Man who looks down at his foot. “Am I right?”
Monthly Archives: March 2020
“I’m tired of the movement, the stories. It all ends *here*,” Monroe says while staring up at his vibrating, gold plated stereo rocking the tune of “Magneto and Titanium Man,” one of Marty’s. The glass ornaments on Monroe’s gold coated palm plant jingle with the beat. Because Marty and The Man *knew* each other. They both knew about… well, we’ll get back to her story soon enough.
“I’m tired of all the sights,” he starts again, looking at nothing in particular now. “I’m going to get myself sooo *blinded* tonight.”
“Sorry about Santman, boss,” robot doorman Chuck bellowed in his giant voice down to passing (Tron)Axis, who didn’t speak up. Highies usually didn’t acknowledge Lowies in Fearzum-town, and Axis was not one to break protocol on this. But indeed he was sorry about it too. He had high hopes for a new and copyright free superhero named Santman. Highest of the high.
Meanwhile, over on the Elephant’s Trunk of the Corsica continent to the west (keeping in mind that Corsica is an elephant, an ever popular meme), Axis’ wife Wheeler had gone back to her old routine: essentially waiting for the return of her hubbie from Fearzum back to Fearzom or thereabouts, most recently in Rond. But they had moved on from Rond that night we visited them there recently, and Wheeler seems to now have a place near her beloved Cafe Maroon in Red Mars. Because we will probably end this here present photo-novel, 18th in the Collagesity photo-novel series, in Fearzom or thereabouts instead of Fearzum or thereabouts, where Axis still is. Good chance; Red Mars dictates this. And Venus. Venus and Mars may or may not be alright tonight. Marty might know. In fact…
“I never figured it out neither,” he spoke up to me (The Lord) from a beach bar in Wet Hoof. But he still might be a lover to Wheeler on the side…
… unless it’s Marvel Man. Yes, let’s just go with that, The Man freshly regurgitated back out of Ant after the failed Santman project. I believe there’s still a bit of ant saliva dripping from his hair, which he deftly covers with his old Elvis wig on a
larch lark. We’ll catch up with the 2 in Cafe Maroon.
“But aren’t you married to Parasol?”
The Man quickly recedes into the background with this, remembering obligations to his wife. *He* is faithful, even if she isn’t. The Man always had one true love, the Eve to his Adam, the Wo-man to his Man. And Dog makes 3.
No, let’s instead just have Axis return from Fearzum to Fearzom (or thereabouts), reunited with his wife after the failed Santman project but also successful Morgan Freechild killing in nearby Ephant, just down the line at the beginning of the trunk. 1/2 and 1/2. They decide to celebrate the latter instead of be sad for the former.
“You didn’t turn your back on me,” spoke Wheeler, now in a blue-green Venus wig befitting her new status as queen of Cafe Maroon, queen of Red Mars itself most likely.
“No,” he answered in his handsome voice. “I gave up the office, the view of the granite topped Ashenlave summit, just to be here with you. I hope you’re happy (about it).” There was remorse in his pretty tone. He knew Wheeler was behind the Santman failure. She needed him here, and here he was, blue-green as well. Faithful. For now.
“Do you like my new look?” she spoke over to similarly coffee sipping Axis, more immersed in the Tron machinery than ever. “I made it just for you, just for this place. Fearzom or thereabouts.”
“Stop saying that,” he quickly snapped back.
We could actually end our current photo-novel here, but The Pattern dictates that there are 7 or 8 or 9 or 10 additional posts to go, perhaps even a little more. Fearzom not Fearzum will be the rule. Unless it changes. Thanks for continuing to read!
Axis can’t decide. To keep this office with all his energy lines embedded in it already…
… or to shift over to Morgan’s *old* office, even though no one yet knows it’s old. New(s) of his death has yet to spread locally. The virus is clogging the newsfeeds. “14 dead in Fearzum, 14 dead in Fearzum!” they cry, causing panic in the market. No, Freechild’s demise can’t break through that impenetrable Wall of Fear. But he’s behind that too, being from Fear*zom* and all (always gets a laugh). He created both. Might as well call him Mr. Pennsylvania.
But he has a meeting to attend. Over at Freechild’s place. Can test it out today himself for a while. See how he likes.
Yes, Axis thinks to himself while staring out at the Ashenlave summit we’ve seen once before in this here photo-novel, or at least the western part. No sea, but instead this peak looming before me, reminding me of where I came from. Granite far far above green. He looks stonily in the direction of Sandman and Ant-Man on the other side of the spacious, line free office.
“Gentlemen!” he cries in as Morgan Freechild a voice as he can muster, administrative skills peaking at a high. “We must get down to the *merger*.” Ant-Man, formerly just Ant and just The Man but now something quite else, stares over at Sandman, who was always a man as well as Sand — no morphing there.
Ant-Man, edging closer, knew this: that Sandman was afraid of the first change, which he’d already gone through. “No no!” wailed The Man after Ant approached him and then swallowed him whole, *becoming* him. Hucka Doobie didn’t tell him this drastic trick but Ant, after all, had a stupid internet feed and could look up how to soul merge on his own, duh. Quicky style.
Now Sandman’s turn.
He ate. He swallowed.
Copyright infringement free *Sant*man is born!
[photo removed for copyright infringement]
Morgan Freechild always stops at Ephant Mountain on his way from Fearzom to Fearzum. It’s on his flight path after all, plus he use to rent a cottage here, right down there to his left. Now, in the days of massive mainland downsizing, all that’s left on the mountain is a single green cedar, planted right at its very apex. He enjoys the great view one last time…
… since (Tron)Axis hides in the foliage with Wheeler above, deadly frisbee thingie in hand.
Axis was in his secret hideaway in Rond, but not so secret that he didn’t have to move again. “I got the dirt on Sand – Man,” Wheeler started again, still in the beautiful and lovely black gown worn on her dates with the man-clown. “We have all the information we need. Why not let Morgan live?”
“Because he has to *die*.” Axis was firm in his evil way. He was washing his hands for the 14th time today and then implored Wheeler, once more, to do the same. Gotta keep the demon virus away, he urged. No time for quarantines. Must have freedom of motion to finish the job, social distancing be damned. “Didn’t do Lily no harm,” he said another time. Except it did, because she preceded her former husband Morgan into the grave by about, oh, 15 days. Lily didn’t leave Morgan. Lily left the Land of the Living itself.
I’m starting to think Axis is evil incarnate.
“Okay get over here and wash yours. We gotta get to Ephant before Heartbreak Boy.” They swap places.
He was traveling down the Elephant’s Trunk, like Ant before him. Axis kept track of his progress with red pins, bigger and brighter than ever. Next stop if his dastardly design goes according to plan: Ephant. At the base of the trunk and marking it as truly an elephant’s. Axis knew his furloughed boss would land there. He always did.
The trap is set.
He sighs. “Black *is* beautiful. Oh Lily, why you do me this way? Why you do me this way?”
“Li-ly! Oh my darling wife Li-ly! Former wife Li-”
The phone rings, grinding Morgan Freechild’s attempt at a song to a halt. It’s Axis again.
“I *will* give your love to Lily,” he speaks into the phone to Axis a bit later. “Yeah, she’s right here,” he lies, “playing the piano as usual, he he.” Axis indicates he can’t wait to see them again; just has to tie up some business in *Fearzum* — *not* Fearzom — always gets a laugh, which Morgan does. “Okay, well I guess, um, I’ll see you after *that* — whatever it is.” Axis says he can’t talk about it then commences to talk about it for the next 15 minutes. “Sandman, eh?” responds Morgan Freechild to what he was revealing with obvious worry. “Well I haven’t seen or heard from him since he started preaching over at the Main Cheese Church in Heterocera; started wearing clown makeup all the time. I wonder what this Ant Man wants from him?” Axis replies that the name of the big ant is just Ant, with no Man attached and that would be a copyright issue if so. “Maybe that’s what it is, then,” says Morgan Freechild, administrative skills kicking in again. He was taking a break from all that, and Axis’ currently empty house fit the bill perfectly. Mountain retreat. Fearzom and not Fearzum. Strange, Morgan thinks once more, that Axis is involved in both. Maybe *I* should get involved with this, he ponders. Not tell Axis, just fly in and be done with it in a few hours. No stress involved. None atall. His old heart would be ticking none the worse for it. Good to get back to the old job, at least for a couple of hours. He decides then and there: Axis seems to need him.
It would be the worse decision of his life. Let’s just say he’ll never finish that love song.
Ant figures out how to hang up so’s he can make another call, this time to old friend Hucka Doobie.
“Hiya Hucka, old friend. How’s it buzzing? haha. What’s the buzz, I mean. Listen. (reply) She’s fine — thanks for asking. Anyway, get this, I just hung up one of your old *Blinkerton* works in my castle over here at [Elephants Trunk], hehe. (surprised reply) Yeah, I’m staring right at the *ant* who’s taking a piss on the whole world. Reminds me of Trump. (reply) Oh right, not suppose to say that here. (reply) Monitoring, huh? (longer reply) Uh huh? (shorter longer reply) Uh hum. (reply) Well, I must say, I think things will come around in the end and run him over from behind. The ass will get hit in his ass! (reply) Yeah, I agree. But we could talk politics all night, me and you. Like back in the Bomb Squad. Those were the days! (longer reply) Right, Jimmy’s okay. I just talked to him last week. He’s totally over the yellow jacket fever. Wearing red these days. (reply) Oh, I guess that could be a kind of joke. (reply) Yeah, I want to talk to you about, you know, how you were a bee and all and now you’re kind of human and such. H-how does that all work? I know you’ve explained it to me, but just review it again (reply) Yeah, you got it. I’m thinking about changing myself. (reply) I know it will be hard. I’ve got a rock solid plan. (reply) Oh August — Easter in August. (reply) Easter *is* in August this year? (short reply) Oh, yucks, you’re a funny one. Guess you still got the old Blinkerton in you
still, the joker.” Ant looks at the Charles Nelson Blinkerton work just hung on the wall, and reads. “‘Sawmill *Heir* Wins Pis-Ant Reward Ha.’ What was the other hotel sign you changed? (reply) ‘Rebel Ho’s’, right. Not as successful. *This* one won that award. (reply) What’s the plan, heh? Well (he turns), we better ask Stan.”