Daily Archives: May 25, 2026

May 25, 2026 · 7:55 am

00500316 (Sphinx (riddle me this))

The silver swirling all about him coalesces into a tight, glinty circle around his wrist. The water changes, becoming lighter, airier. He can breath again! Maybe, somehow, he won’t drown in these murky Desert Reservoir #3 waters beneath the Book Cliffs he was thrown off of with severely slit throat and seemingly 0% chance of survival just minutes before — not just yet anyway. Walking again, yes, but still at the bottom. In response to this, the band starts pulling him up through the water toward the land of the living, upwards upwards. 4% 16% 64%… suddenly 100% chance he’ll make it, a pendulum swing of unfathomable proportions.

Then he’s back at the top as if nothing had happened, daydreaming, wondering what to eat for breakfast. Lunch? Maybe both in one. Whaddaya call that? Lukfast, that’s it. Just as improbable.

Soon an old beggar he gives money to in a nearby village hands him an old wooden key as a reward. And this is where we came in…

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May 25, 2026 · 7:55 am

00500315

“There he is. Horace the drummer, just like Noodle, er, Shelley said. And, aww, he’s depressed a lot of the time. Poor guy.”

“This must be before he grew his mustache,” offered Daniel from the side, still chipping in when he can. “Or maybe he’s already shaved it off here.”

“Depression will do that to you,” I said back. “Make you change your appearance thinking that’ll help your mood. Usually doesn’t. Only a passion for the essence of life again will heal those wounds. Got it!” I suddenly realized, figurative head bulb lighting up. “Something happened to his band!”

“And he can’t release those pent up emotions, hmm.” Daniel studies the illustration again. “He’s trying to think of sunnier times. Through the meditation. But the depression is major in scale — overwhelming.”

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May 25, 2026 · 7:55 am

00500314

“Do you think I’m beautiful, Horace?”

“Duuuh, *I’m* not Horace,” she imagines the graffiti face behind her saying in a fumbling, bumbling voice.

“Sure you are. And you play drums. Just like me.”

“Deeer, *no* you don’t.”

“Sure I do. Ever heard of a little album called ‘Demon Days’? Check it out. Drums, guitar, singing, you name it. I can do it all, Horace on the wall behind me. I’m *brilliant*. Just look me up in New Mexico.” But then she knew not to say more about that angle.

“Duuur, Mexico?”

“Close, very close,” she decides to answer Horace’s misunderstanding of her words. “Anthony,” she pinpoints a fake location, on the opposite side of the state from where she was thinking before. Touching Mexico, yes, but actually in NM and TX both, a 3 ‘n 1 she could hide in 4 years if needed. She knew the dual city would confuse and confound the less nimble brained Horace if he did any follow up research, which was doubtful anyway (she continues to imagine).

“Deee–”

The me in front of 2nd Phase Noodle breaks in here to reminds her that she needs to cut her bangs to see better, no matter how cool this early look be.

—–

There?

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May 25, 2026 · 7:54 am

00500313

“Karl”

“Karl!”

“KARL!!!”

He finally turns away from the corn. “Yess?”

“Time to go home.”

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May 25, 2026 · 7:54 am

00500312

https://gilligan.fandom.com/wiki/The_Honeybees

“Don’t worry, this particular 3 piece girl band will never make it out of Oceania to acquire mainland fame and fortune, despite their obvious talent. The *Mosquitoes* will make sure of that. Stamp them NONEXISTANT. *Not* a rival.”

“Thanks Biff!!” he can hear them collectively exclaim in his head, Shelley even giving him an appreciative kiss on his cheek. No, make that *lips*. Now to test it out in reality.

—–

Groovy tune this “You Need Us” is, thinks smoking and radio listening Wanda from her mainland bed in a different TV series altogether. But I wonder why The Mosquitoes went with an instrumental? I can imagine the 3 part singing now… TBC?

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May 25, 2026 · 7:54 am

00500311 (Shakespeare never sleeps)

“(The ASUMH library entrance is) 7.00 miles from Arkana, 7.00 miles from Arkawana with the WA left behind in the attached, sad sad Robina crime spree story. Concrete (WA) again? Might be pressing it there.”

“Silver,” listening Wendell Biff Carter attempts an explanation of his own. “Silver = seven; you pointed that out before.”

“Could be,” admits Shelley, still on the bench, still beneath and hiding under and even within Noodle looming o’er her. Always.

“It’s good you didn’t come out from under the lamp,” Biff tries to summarize their talk so far.


photo-novel 32

“I was too little then. Wouldn’t have worked.”

“But later, I mean… when you were able to turn around and face the music. Miss Ouri had taken over *everything*.”


photo-novel 47

“Oh… right. But not quite everything,” she corrected for Biff, her manager, her… friend? Let’s go with manager for a while longer. “There was my saving grace,” she said. “I escaped through the island newly formed off the coast of mainland. (The) 4 (Apocalyptic) horses reduced to 2….”

—–

“What happened to your husband Arthur anyway?” Biff begins a related topic, bit of jealousy in his tone along with a bit of hope. Could it work between them? Nah — and he tried to shove that thought out of his head. “Last I heard: Oceania.”

“He’s still there. Playing the role of Godzilla or sumtin at Point Nemo which is the furthest location away from dry land in the whole wide world. He literally followed his lucrative paying roles to the end of the Earth, as far away from my loving arms as he could get, *sigh*. I guess all he has left now is either turn around and come home to me or go off to a different planet altogether. The louse.”

Ah HA, I think from beyond the wall. Explains a lot!

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