Monthly Archives: August 2020

August 15, 2020 · 9:55 am

Apple’s Orchard 02

They were. And so was Bigfoot. The locals referred to it as Her Majesty, again for mysterious Xplicit reasons. In the winter when she became all snow covered, she was more often called a yeti. 12, up to 13 residents were lost each holiday season. Baker’s dozen; Baker never liked that kind of talk associated with his name. Because that meant he was the last one to blame, I mean, he was to blame for the last one, the thirteen. If only he’d been a better Christian as a boy. The Boy. And now he’s paying through the Dark Peak of 2. Twin Peaks. Just like Harrison Jett had. The real deal.

If only he knew what the bluebird chirped down at Blue Jay Bay he would be a head of the game.

(to be continued?)

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August 15, 2020 · 9:39 am

Apple’s Orchard

She glanced past Harrison Jett through the window. “You know, I thought that was Bigfoot out there for the longest time. But it’s not. It’s a man — carrying a woman. The woman looks like 2 arms.”

Harrison Jett also looked out, not impressed. After all, he was a man fused with a woman as well. He was the real deal, the Real McCoy. He told this to Charlene the punk, then asked her how the heck she got *here*. Last he’d heard, she was in Gaston.

“Well, Barry X. Vampire — *sorry* — *Jeffrie Phillips* got tired of me and separated his place from my place. Yeah, I was in Gaston for a while. Yeah I saw Firesign Theatre perform there, a house band at the Rhino. But then I started hanging around Randolph the Pirate; hanging around that Dark Peak of the two, the one without the topping Christ.

“I believe he’s called Jim in some realms,” offered Harrison about the bastard buccaneer while sipping on his mysterious Xplicit drink. She had a parallel drink, held in the opposite hand. Male and female, once more. They should clink and get it over with.

She had to ask. “Those — apples. Are they real?”

Harrison Jett looked down. Were they?

(to be continued)

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August 15, 2020 · 8:19 am

Abbey 02

“I was wondering if you’ve seen a little boy. About yea high?” Walter Pillsbury then sticks his hand behind his head in a nervous reaction, pretending to scratch his neck. There was something on it that he wasn’t suppose to reveal. The hand must remain hidden and out of focus as best as possible.

“No, I’m afraid not sir. Like I tell everyone with such an inquiry, you’ll have to talk to the king.” That’ll put them off, Tipsy the barista thinks without saying. Because the king is much too busy to deal with such a trivial matter. Little did she know.

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August 15, 2020 · 7:15 am

po(u)ring

“Umbrella, huh?” muttered private dick Wendell “Biff” Carter after he’d finally found the correct place to read in his red book. Read book? Anyway, maybe it’s just the correct *place*… to read his book. Paperville. In a coffee and pastry shop with some suspicious design parallels with the recently opened Bake’s Bakery over in Teepot. He can read it here; he can read it there. Hmm (again). Better get over for a shot of those “Umbrella dunces.” *This* is where Dunce Boy aka D Boy aka DeBoy (etc.) went after his hat transformation and acquiring that tracking red tie from either the Pot-D or Pan-Z tracking gang. Probably the latter, unless it is the former. Jeffrie Phillips would know. If we could find him. He’s disappeared too. Another suspicious design parallel.

To that tell-tale Paperville sculpture:

Compare:

The Boy is here!

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August 14, 2020 · 8:43 am

new Diagonal 02

200 200: another threshold.

180 180.

But Hucka must *really* get over to Harrison’s before the night is done. Daylight in a little over an hour. Magic opening closed!

144 144. Maybe I better call Baker over here instead.

145 145 and 144 144 respectively.

“I was just going to tell you that The Boy was not at Stranger Creek. That’s all.”

“Good enough. Let’s see what else we’ve got on this Diagonal. Maybe it is all planned.” Both laugh.

203 203: “Let me help you out here old timer.”

“You’re axed.”

204 204: Mo guest. Missouri? Mizzou?


Mount Lemmon, Arizona

203 203: “We’re just missing the mark now, Hucka Doobie. Can you hear me?”

239 239, 240 240:

240 240, 242 242: Uh oh. Something’s going on. “How can you be in 2 places at once?” I exclaimed, flipping back and forth between Baker Bloch’s and Hucka Doobie’s viewers.

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August 14, 2020 · 8:03 am

new Diagonal

Hmm. A triple number: 173 173 173. Carpe Diem, huh? Seize the day. Seize the night!

Better head over to Harrison’s place.

166 166 (173): “Rome Italy: Montage 5” by Kyoko Furse-Barzane (L$350). Hucka Doobie naturally thinks back to the “When in Rome” collage and her role in that. Trapped! (Gastonite!) But what does “Rome” mean now? Carpe Diem: a Latin term.

I suppose Rome would have to mean Teepot itself, and the ability of the Greater Baker family to fit in. Starting with Bake’s Bakery: it all centers around that now. Do as the Teepoters do.

161 161 173: Sake server.


Silver Sake server

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August 13, 2020 · 9:57 am

trying to love

NWES City:

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August 13, 2020 · 9:09 am

Gastonite

Now eyepatched Jim the Bastard Pirate, still working from his magic typewriter, looks around the 2nd floor of his new Bogota Gallery in NWES City and sees it is good.

Soon he would reach the 3rd and enter a new level of understanding about what happened to Hucka Doobie when she was pushed into that collage to the left by thought-to-be friend Tammy Whatammy back in photo-novel 7. Instead: fusion.


“When in Rome” (2018)

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August 12, 2020 · 10:07 am

sweet sixteen

“I remember that day like it was yesterday,” spoke Jiff the former staff psychologist at Gaston Police Station. “Gastion, they sometimes called it when they were all drunk and slury down in the basement beside the torturing devices. Best to be intoxicated down there. Too many ghosts and memories. But it was the only place they could get away from chief Golden Josephine Jim and expect to get away with it. Chef Golden Jim Josephine often joined them. Cook at the upgraded Joint Joint, now a hip place for those who think with their hips instead of their head. Which was seemingly everyone around here. The Dark Peak dominated once more — Dark Days again.”

Jim the Bastard Pirate, formerly Randolph the Bastard Pirate, was typing away as Jiff’s cartoon-ish, Ickle voice yammered on. The words almost came too swift. He needed something better than a manual instrument for his craft, his trade. Because, he determined early on, this one will *sell*. I’ll hide all the things I’ve plundered from others, like that graphite gray map on the, let’s see, wall behind me. There. He turns.

Half of it remains screened for now.

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August 12, 2020 · 9:31 am

pirate

138 dead. Chain reaction. The words reverberated in his head like a broken record or something. A repetitive sea shanty — that’s better. He remembers to paint again. Dreamy dreams can wait. He tries to set them aside but more return en masse. Chain reaction. 138 dead, 138 dead, 138 dead. Perhaps it is time to write; maybe the *other* voices will drown out *these* voices. He moves from the canvas to the typewriter to begin a long overdue project. He inserts a blank sheet. Like life itself, waiting to be written upon, he thinks. Fresh start. He presses caps lock and centers the page 2/3rd up with 3 backspaces. He types a G, then an A, then an S. He stares at what he’s typed so far. T, then, O. He pauses again. N to finish. It has begun.

That should keep the bastard busy for a while.

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