Monthly Archives: October 2023

October 31, 2023 · 6:34 am

00400515

The weight of the past…

… finally collapses the present into a hellscape sinkhole of no return.

Over and over…

… and over.

—–

“As you can clearly see, Dr. Mouse, the darts weren’t the cause of the death.”

“As I suspected,” he said in his superior, haughty way. “What did the extracted bodily fluids reveal?”

“Dr. Rabbid over at the lab is still working on the results,” answered Dr. Brown. Dr. Mouse was thinking he’d have the results already, would *cane* them out of a subordinate if needed for such an important case. All Millbank is depending on a correct diagnosis. For its own survival.

Sensing the tension, Dr. Brown put forth another option, since he didn’t have much faith in science to figure it out by this point. He acted as if it was his own idea instead of Dr. Rabbid’s but would quickly point the blame finger at the non-present doctor if Mouse didn’t like the proposal.

“Seance?!” Dr. Mouse responded to it, initially seeing only the negative of the thing. “Here? In Millbank?? Are you mad??”

Well, a little, Dr. Brown thought, but then answered: “It could be elsewhere. The other doctors wouldn’t have to know about it. You could be a hero, sir, swooping in from the outside to save the day.”

“All Hallows Day,” he specified. “All this,” and he looks around the room that represents the entire sim in the moment, “wouldn’t have to go back into storage. It could be perpetual, a permanent fixture. *If*…”

“… we could just figure out how to affix the past to the present; make it stable and unfluctuating,” finished Brown for the higher up doctor.

The phone in Dr. Brown’s pocket rings in an ancient way. He answers; he acknowledges; he hangs up. “Dr. Rabbid’s results indicate formaldehyde, 37 percent.”

“Formaldehyde?!” shouted the superior doctor even slightly louder. “Then this *is* about preservation.” The seance was a go, at least in the eyes of Brown.

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October 30, 2023 · 4:56 pm

interpreter

“Let’s recreate the crime scene, Grandmama,” she recalls him saying in the dream she just woke up from, relayed to her psychic granddaughter Toddles a little later to complete the loop. “We have Bart jiggling on his skateboard in the southeast corner again, waiting to be freed so he can go back to Oz and the lucrative Butterfingers business he’d set up there. Roadrunner is running circles around him, representing constraint of freedom. He is stuck for now. Then Twitty Bird darts right by him in the picture, chased by Sylvester the Cat per usual.

“Conway Twitty threw *darts* at a map of the United States to come up with his stage name, one hitting Conway, Arkansas and the other Twitty, Texas near Magic City, Abra, and perhaps some other meaningful names. Kellersville next to Heald obviously, referring to the water healing of deaf blind mute Helen over in Tuscumbia, Alabama. Bart’s sister Lisa just ran into this same Sylvester in NWES City — which we need to get back to by the way.”

“The two darts represent drugs,” Toddles interrupted her grandmother’s dream review with an insight.

SHADOW: (says something)
PEANUT: Ah, what? I don’t understand… a thing you’re saying, man. Do you have any idea what you sound like? Bluh, bluh, bluh, bluh. That’s what you sound like in my head.
SHADOW: (says something)

https://12ozmouse.fandom.com/wiki/The_Shadowy_Figure

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October 30, 2023 · 6:24 am

00400513

Turns out it was all a misunderstanding mostly created by Toddles herself. Vain and Artery Boyy and, especially, Rock didn’t have the sense to think that a legal guardian must be found for Toddles, due to the fact that she acted so *independent* around them, we’ll say. Toddles insisted they celebrate the reunion and work out the kinks of the intertwined connections later on after visiting the Millgate Halloween Festival — located to the north and west of Big Sandy on the old Bellissaria continent — before it was too late and her 2nd favorite holiday after Arbor Day was done and over with.

—–

They’d left Rock to play in a haunted sandbox outside with an object provided plastic zombie pail and ghost shovel. He would be happy for hours if needed. And Alice F., wore out from the tour already, was upstairs taking a power nap, as she described it. The bad dreams began almost instantly, like back in the Belt Days.

Which left Toddles and Vain and Artery Boyy (aka Gill) downstairs, trying to figure out a mystery. “The thing that interests me most,” spoke the precocious child, obviously precious as well, “is *not* the 2 darts through the eyes — that’s more a distraction I’m thinking. It’s the presence of that blue ball at the foot of the body. Blue, Vain and Artery Boyy. Like your better half.”

He thought of Blue Berry Girl here and the life that could have been. But too late now. She was off to the Pleiades or Andromeda or some other starry paradise high in the nighttime sky. Seeing herself seeing herself seeing herself…

“What do you mean?” he prompted, staring at it now as well.

“Well, I mean, it just doesn’t *fit*. Let’s continue thinking out loud together — why did the Lindens, or Moles whoever, put it there?”

After V&AB didn’t answer for a spell, Toddles went on. “Blue ball begets yellow ball begets red green begets green red. We’ve already been through that. The prison bowling alley. Exactly 2 sections back.”

“I–” Vain started, then stopped. He had nothing really to say. He just decided to listen to genius unfurled in front of him. Yes, he’d try to stick with the child. He’d fight for her, even, at this point. Grandmas are challengeable legal guardians he figured. Not like a mama and a papa, which apparently Toddles didn’t have. He wondered why — he’d ask the grandma as soon as she finished her nap. He’d battle on the grounds that she had a 37 year old brain inside a 3 year old’s body, ready to be released on the world.

Alice woke up in a different bed, but the shadow figure was still there, go figure. And then someone else. Not a leprechaun but similarly sized. Maybe it is some kind of leprechaun given what comes afterwards. “Hell-o!” he or she or it says innocently in a child-like voice. “Hell-ooo!”

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October 30, 2023 · 1:52 am

00400512

He had returned but he found himself more and more excluded from Ozma’s inner circle after a lukewarm reentry. “It’s *temporary*, dear,” she kept repeating to him. “I brought you back after all. You’re *here*; back in Oz, back to patrolling the Yellow Brick Road. And boy dear howdy that took some smooth talking to the inner council to get done,” she often reminded him. “So be *grateful*. You’re not out *there*.”

But it’s been months again, maybe years. When would his so called probation end here in the cornfield far away from a central power he was use to? Contemplation like this naturally led him to check the clock that always beats the times in his chest. 7:15 in Quadlingland, 3:15 in Munchkinland. And in the center, the middle, well: heartbreak.

He watched her slip away in the stalks, reminding him of that old Oklahoma song about a quirky little alien who comes to Earth and can’t get enough of corn, all types. He involuntarily begins to sing it in his head.

I like cornflakes, corndogs
I like corn bread and cornstarch
I like the band Korn and popcorn, I like all kinds of corn
ALL KINDS OF CORN!

He can’t recall the rest and, anyway, Ozma had already disappeared down the rows. Their meetings were almost as brief as in the Lost Forest when he was truly exiled. Now it’s still a false exile, an ostracizing by the rest. Scarecrow barely talked to him, feigning being constantly tied up with businesses of the mind. Lion similarly excused himself when encountering the famed metal being, saying he had to face down or have a tangle with this or that adversary who still lived some distance from wherever they were standing at the time. And Dorothy… he doesn’t even like to think of Dorothy.

—–

“I thought we were going to replace Dorothy with *me*,” spoke up the precious precocious child listening in on Marsha “Pink” Krakow’s latest version of her novel with a working title of “Lost Path of Oz,” changed from the earlier “Forgotten Road of Oz.” “After all, L. Frank Baum’s greatest goal was to please a child. And what better way to carry on that tradition than to cast me, a child as child can be, in the leading role of your book. Similarly, Vain and Artery Boyy replaces Lion, and Rock” — she looks over at him, dumbly counting the fingers on both hands over and over to make sure they’re the same on each — “well, we’ll work on him,” she admitted, sharing a smile with Pink about the irony.

“Maybe,” gleaned Pink, “maybe *you* should replace the Scarecrow, Toddles. And Rock can play Dorothy — you know what I mean.”

Toddles as the brains of the operation. She instantly likes! She automatically sees it is the right change to affect.

“No one is going to play ANYTHING until I get some ANSWERS!” Toddle’s grandma Alice Farrowheart had shown up at the reading in the so called Center Hole of Big Sandy. With a loaded shotgun.

Marsha quickly checked to see if this was in the book as well.

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October 29, 2023 · 4:16 pm

00400511

“Your orange-ish hair… so pretty.” He couldn’t help but run his fingers through the semi-transparent ponytail to test its texture.

“Well thanks I guess Al Orange,” she replied, regretting that she sat so close to him now. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Before she realized this was just another one of those mannequins — they all were. No information here to retrieve. And she needed info. So she could get the heck out of Dodge.

“Yes, you’re so pretty overall,” spoke over Dafney Duck, a quack at the doctoring business. Two kneecap replacements just last week. And only none of them needed it. “Why don’t you put on a bathing suit and really, truly join in with us. I have an extra back in the boat, I believe.”

“I *don’t* *do* bathing suits,” she spoke firmly, leaning back and edging away from creepy Al, short for Alvin she assumed. “Not since…” She cut herself off. Couldn’t talk about Mountain Lake yet. Or her actual mother still mayor back in Meat City. But she certainly wasn’t ready to go back to prison. Thus: here.

The host of the party sitting directly behind her — Sandy Hook — then said something. Bitterly. “I wonder if *Edward*… would like to see you in one of those.” Who was this really? Marsha “Pink” Krakow still? Or…

“Coke is real,” uttered the last person at the hot tub, the 6th of 6. Friends? Not really. But the appellation still applied.

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October 29, 2023 · 9:18 am

00400510

He’d killed 2 witches defending the city gates and was ready for a 3rd if needed. His moral chip had malfunctioned, rendering him unable to tell the difference between Good and Bad. He’d have to be reassigned, at least until the city council cooled down about the murder of their beloved Glinda. Ozma, the true and lawful queen overseeing all, wasn’t too keen on the self righteous goody two shoes so no big loss in her eyes. Still: Tinsman had to go. The Lost Path of Oz seemed about right. Out of the way, but not too far so that the queen couldn’t pass through at times and see how he’s doing over there. When he was invited to one of her balls he’d know all was well again and that he could return. The moment would come soon, he felt. He’d served several years in the Lost Forest already.

Then chaos ensued — again. He misplaced his oil can, then just after finding it the queen passed through. He’s invited! But a quick shower came, and since the Tinsman hadn’t been able to oil himself for a while, he froze up — the famous legend based on Ozian facts got that part right at least.

Then, much much later, Toddles walked up with her new friends Rock Ramby and Vain and Artery Boyy. “Look!” the last exclaimed in his husky voice, made for the sea. “A man. A man made out of tin!”

“It’s called a robot,” mildly corrected Toddles, who then started looking around the immediate area for a lubricant container.

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October 28, 2023 · 11:01 am

00400509

She changes into her true form to better convince the youth.

“Carrcassonnee,” he said, still looking her over, noticing the lack of “junk”, for instance. “I can’t believe it’s really you. After all these years!” But then he remembers he’s not his father. He’s just having memories of his father — happens sometimes. This is what you get for being estranged. Confusion at times. Who is who and such. “I mean, after all this time about my *father* talking about you, heh heh.” Nervous laughter to end. He gazes up at the single eye. What did it see, what did it read? His soul?

“Iiiiiiii…,” she said. “Iiiiiiiiiiiii…”. She tries to start again. “Iiiiiiii–”

Bart cuts her short. “Yes, I *heard* that you’re having problems starting again. Like an old car that’s been sitting in a field for a while or something. I believe that’s how my father once described you. But at one time–”

“Iiiiiiii…” she said again. “haaaaaaavee…” she continued. “Newwwws,” she said better.

Silence for a while as the boy absorbed this. Carrcassonnee speaks! “Welll… go ahead,” he encourages, thinking of his father once more. The Tin Woodsman, he picked up on in his psychic way. My father’s old friend; he’s returned!

“Iiiiiiii…” started Carrcassonnee again, understanding the message had been received, “… can take youuuu… to himm.”

“Cool!” And so they set off, across the land and then across the sea. Out of the southeast corners and into the real world.

“Whoa whoa there, Carrcassonnee. Slow down boy, er, girl.”

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October 28, 2023 · 2:36 am

00400508

In her mind, the 3 within settled down and organized themselves, Marsha “Pink” Krakow on top and up front again. As such, she approaches the effigy of the crocogator in the southeast corner of Sirens Isle.

“I was wrong to seek the treasure in the sea, Carrcassonnee (she says her true name). Nothing but pyrite here.”

But then she spied the handy teleporter next to the false treasure chest and was lured away again.

MEANWHILE…

The crocogator takes to the land and moves inside a different southeast corner to give Bart the news.

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October 27, 2023 · 10:43 am

00400507 (Flashback Friday)

00080601

Walking through the arch once more, [Tropp] traveled far from Braynard’s Place to a 4 sim land some call Eden itself.

Whilst sitting against a log beside a grove of nice, pink trees, he is inspired to write a song about New Island’s Pipewold and being X-ed out.

But he was not alone. For the Alices were there.

And the Rabbits.

And some others.

All in all, a Grand Old Time was had of it.

Mention of Tropp passing through the past-future arch again, you’ll notice. And 2 Alices here, although yet different again from the 2 Alices in Big Sandy now, Tart and Farrowheart for the latter pair. The 2 earlier ones: no surname that I recall; undifferentiated in that way.

The mentioned “some others” didn’t matter. Or… did they?


Madam Mexico

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October 26, 2023 · 2:59 pm

“Wobbly…

“… she was in the head, just having finished her stiff drink. But she knew.”

Laura was reporting back to Dolores, the Big Boss of Big Sandy. Just across Big Channel she was. Somewhere. Laura had her phone number at least. She continued speaking into her cell after receiving message after message earlier. “Call me”, “Call me”, “Call me”, they read. “We need to talk,” was the implication, “we need to catch up. I’m here to help.”

She was on my council, perhaps as a counsel.

—–

“I had a dream there was not one giant bug but many, weaving a grid so regular it acted as a prison. I was back in Meat City, the Utah part after Broadwater and Rockaway Beach and the Osbournes and Kuradov but before the big bend away from all that at Rhodenwald. The part that’s *locked up* with (Utah’s) Kamas in other words.”

Kamas reduced to Kama was too close to Karma, she knew. And Laura also from a defunct place called Strong Karma — resonance.

“You must focus on Big Sandy right now as best as you can,” she advised. Until the end of section 05 of this here present photo-novel was the hidden meaning. I think.

—–

I knew the Silver King Grill was a stand in for Strong Karma (SK). And although defunct, I knew where its spirit lived on, then. New Eden.

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