Monthly Archives: August 2022

honest?

Where *are* they, Baker Blinker thinks from her position across the stream from the cemetery. Oh well. Guess I can use this opportunity to go to Sugar’s Shack, perhaps meet with others there and gather their stories for future posts. Let’s see, Lucy is gone and Zapppa is gone — *that’s* why he isn’t at the cemetery. He’s already dug up Franklin, he’s already found no body or nobody in the grave. Keep up, Baker Blinker! But there’s others around still. Vanessa and Tatiana or Tiana as she likes to shorten it. But that’s just more ouroboros again. Sugar’s at the center with Donald still (different from the Donald up in Towerboro). Venus, Mistress and Bluebird remain around, I’m sure. Ben and Benny: *yes*. That’s probably who I should be talking to, either or both together as one. Sugar’s Shack? Why not.

But Baker Blinker soon discovered that Sugar’s Shack was no longer at its former location in the center of Big Woods. Just like that, everything has shifted and thought-to-be established characters whisked away back into nothingness. Wheeler and Zapppa chose the right direction tonight, leaving the female Baker in an inferior position again. Dangit, she thinks, standing in the dewy wet grass before the new ruins. *Just* getting use to being the director again. *Wheeler*. She actually spat here, but only sitting Lincoln over there underneath the similarly new windmill acted as witness to this. He promises not to tell.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0408, Big Woods, Jeogeot

… on with the show

“Thanks for coming over, Baker Bloch.”

“Zapppa, please. With an extra p please.”

“Sure, sure,” Wheeler responded, a common reply for the generally agreeable gal these days. She’s mellowed over time. She’s comfortable with her power as chief female of the blog and the photo-novels. She can morph into others and still be secure in her identity. Like Eyela. “Anyways, Franklin, eh? What’s that all about??”

“I thought you said there was a picture involved.”

“Keep up, darling. We’ve already talked about that.”

He rubs his bald head some more, eyes the referenced picture again through his blue and red lenses. Spaced Ghost when he was young. The chief male of the blog’s father. Now he’s old. Old old. With a cane. Might have to shift into a wheelchair even soon. Yes, they talked about the picture, Baker Bloch’s father, already. Before the start of this post. On to other subjects. “Franklin, yeah,” he relents, firmly in the present now. “A mystery. Ouroboros.”

“Cradle to grave — in the same place. Accident, some say. Meaningful, others would determine. Like us. Especially…”

“Especially,” he finished for her, “since we didn’t plan it that way. I was just digging up the most relevant grave to our story in that cemetery. The one you directed me to be in. At 32/32.”

“Correct, but Baker Blinker was actually directing that scene, since she’d recovered from her mysterious illness already. Hmmm… mystery again.”

“Donald *predicted* this.” Zapppa points in the direction he thinks Towerboro lies from this central Jeogeot location. “Just up the road here. We could visit him together; ask him some more questions.”

“I was heading back to Big Woods,” Wheeler replied, “but what the heck. Let’s go.” She gets up to leave. “Goodbye Spaced Ghost,” she says while waving at the picture on the wall behind the counter. Zapppa waves weakly as well. They head north not south tonight, then. Unexpected once more. But the unexpected has firmly become the expected, so…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0407, Big Woods, Jeogeot, Midlands, Towerboro

256/256 = 0/0.

We had to go through Gold City and Barry and Stinkerfoot to get back to Zapppa and the Big Woods cemetery. He dug up the truth about Franklin. It wasn’t pretty.

There was no body; there was nobody.

—–

“Black Jack,” psychic Donald said in a related scene from Towerboro.

“Black Jack.”

The TV went to snow.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0406, Big Woods, Gold City, Jeogeot, Towerboro

Stinkerfoot

The Gods took pity on poor, naive Barry, took him over to what in my reality is a local biking park, perched him on a trail-side rock way up its 4038 foot high namesake summit for all to see when passing, to judge, to test their own meddle.

One succumbed. The Gods knew this would happen. His damaged eye was cleaned up and he was put behind a tree, more out of sight. The Tigers could not get to him here.

Barry was safe, but we are also finished with his story for now, along with his Mom’s. 112 and out.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0405, Blue Mountain, County Park

tiger 06

“Guys, a little help here? Some kind of… force field… blocking my…..

“EEEEYaaaaaa!”

Newspaper reading Mr. Yo White next door heard the screams of course but did nothing in response, not notify the authorities, not go over himself and see what went wrong, nada. He tried that before and just got in massive massive trouble, him and his whole family by association. Let the Cards lie where they fall, he said to his wife Tammy, turning a deaf ear and a blind eye as well, scars of the turf battles.

“Should have been Gibson,” opined Mrs. White bitingly.

Another proxy, Mr. White understood, looking over.

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tiger 05 (The Whites look down disapprovingly on their colored neighbors and their doings.)

She halted at the corner of 33rd and Masonic, a stop sign beside her, a stop sign beside it.

“Marsha *Pink* Krakow,” she managed to utter, recognizing her portrait. And then she wasn’t.

—–

Armed with much more knowledge than he had before, Barry De Boy enters the mysterious, run down house.

Deal made. McLain, rival to Gibson, now owns the rights to the 112 (as well?). STOP

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0403, Gold City, Jeogeot

afternoon

She stared and stared but she couldn’t wish a day gone to return. Munday it is, Munday it remains. Like hamster. Hers should be coming soon.

She overhears some of the conversation from a couple of tables over; her purpose for being here. Something about channeling. Something about triangles.

—–

He walked into Slice, waiting for the mathematician. “Duck, please,” he tried at the counter. “No Duck: chicken,” said the Slice employee, a Mrs. Wiggins I believe. She didn’t even mention the hamster. She knew he wasn’t here for food and had to repel him that way. For emphasis she made the number 5 appear in one of her hands, a sign of non-acceptance or non-compliance. Stop, in other words. We don’t dispense that crap here.

“Barry?” Marsha “Pink” Krakow called over from Eyela’s former seat. She was finished with her hamster and sucking her teeth as inconspicuously as possible. The channeling/triangle couple had gone. She had absorbed again.

“… Mom? What… are you… doing here?”

Well you ordered a mathematician, she thought but didn’t say aloud. She should be at church and he should be at work. But they weren’t.

—-

“I’m just going to check that calculation with my phone, Mom. Hold on…

“Damn.” She’s good! he realized. This could work.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0402, Gold City, Jeogeot

morning

“Man I can’t even look in your eyes today, you’re so small man. What’ll it be today Mickey Rooney? Duck?”

“Yes please.”

“You better return that cap to the St. Louie Cardinals, bro. Bro man. They’re need’n it for their shortstop, you know what I’m saying, yo?”

“Good… one.”

Gibson reaches into his pocket, pulls a bill out. The special kind belonging to Duck.

“Alright here you go Peewee,” he says while exchanging his own with Barry’s, knowing he always gets a head in a deal.

He moves on. He has no real fear of the larger man-boy similarly wearing a red cap, in his case dipped in the blood of a particularly hated and wounded-if-not-killed rival. He’s been here every day since Munday, that special new day of the week where you simultaneously go to work and go to church at once. Work-church. (S)pray. Barry was a kind of professional graffiti artist, the ones who have an unpronounceable name. Like Spock. He’d head to a particular wall-surface as soon as he made the purchase. 300, he thinks this morning. 300 Triangle. A number anyway. Maybe 112. He’s going to meet up with [delete name] afterwards, a mathematician, to decide. Slice.

—–

“What’ll it be today, Mrs. Gold? Duck?”

“Chicken, I think.” STOP

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Gold City

She was at the house now, or the edge of the hill it stood proud and dominant upon.

She summoned Newt again to take a gander at what she’d found. This was obviously the source of their names. They *were* still married…

… to this town.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0317, Gold City, Jeogeot

00340316

“You’ve found the shower again, congratulations. It’s in the Oracle you know. Chicago.”

“I think you mean Illinois,” I replied. “As in: someone was bad and deserved to be spanked punished.”

“In the circle of the shower with the water on, all is good,” he replied confidently. The person sitting opposite of me. Triangle, I gather. Something about the stabbing of the duck obviously. I am now a resident. How did *that* happen?

“You are not dead,” I decided to say. “You were supposedly killed–”

“Look to the House on the Hill. All revolves around the House on the Hill. Just like before.” The apparition, so solid just a second ago, fades…

—–

She finally got out of the shower and put on some clothes, bound and determined to find the graffiti that would set her free.


“Scuse me, boys.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0316, Gold City, Illinois, Jeogeot