I spotted the cacti I spotted the cops.
Then all became blinded.
Swanie is finally asleep and dreaming up her own characters to play with. Center of the night: time to crack into that Monster Book for real, but caarefullly so as not to jar loose the remaining marble again. (Got in) so much trouble before!
He opens up the book in the middle which is the same as the beginning. Just then, the “front door” of special collection slides forward. Someone enters.
“Ross C.!” Man About Time exclaims in a rare outburst. So mild usually.
“I’m glad you made it back, sir,” she said in her robot way, continuing to dust around the shelves and making up time for last week’s snowstorm. Ross C., Man About Time ponders. Haven’t seen her since…
“Sir?” MAT still doesn’t respond. “Sir?” She approaches the reading table. “Oh dear, he’s gone a bit *glassy*-eyed, hehe,” and then dusts him off as well while she’s there.
Pretty good joke for an interloper.
“Oh look,” she continues while looking down at what he’s studying. “Abner again.”
The marbles fall out of his eyes and he can see. But Ross C. was gone. Ross C. was never there.
Cone grew up in Pine Apple, Alabama, with a population around 100. He attended Moore Academy, a one-room school from kindergarten through high school. He did not play football because there were not enough people to field a team.
He emerged from the blue and yellow tent in another dream, a blue and yellow type dream himself. He closely studies the pine cone atop the book tree we found Agent 47 (or 23) reading beside a bit earlier, remembering something about his father. Pine cone… pineapple cone, he free associates. My father lived in one. The cone became the same as one of his eyes. The Other: The Mother.
“I’m worried about my son,” Snowmanster confessed to her bartender at the town’s Hole in the Wall. “He’s built this whole fantasy library around this Kactus figure he made up when he was a kid and still believes in. He *is* Kactus… at times. When he’s playing that role he doesn’t remember who I am, who his parents are. His whole life becomes a blank.”
Now kimono clad Miss Ouri waited patiently for Snowmaster to come around to the obvious, and the prickly green doll she held in her arms. Maybe she needs a coffee mug or t-shirt to spell it out better. Don’t be a prick! The white swan turns into a black swan.
Wheeler wakes up and instantly remembers to jot it down thanks to a strategically placed poster. Good ol’ Arkansaw! Back to reality, phew.
“Live around here?”
“Nooope. Pietmond,” he said. But Sunklands’ Pietmond had been destroyed long long ago. Something was up.
“Live around here?” she tried again just around the corner in a “secret” nook.
“Naah. Just here to study,” the long haired man across the loaded down table said hoarsely, as if he’d just sang a rock n’ roll concert for a 100,000 people.
The other sitting there even turned her back on the child, not wanting discourse and hoping her Goth father was about ready to split this boring town. So that takes care of Pietmond Boy, Osborne Well, and Lou…
… moving us into the opposite corner of the new Collagesity library containing an estimated 100,000 books, a book for each person at one of Osborne’s concerts to put it another way. Here: Tronesisia.
“Live around here?” she tried once more to the former pleasure bot turned tame, this child named Shelley who had given up her castle to construct this building, be with these people. But blue eyed Tronesisia was having a vision and couldn’t answer immediately.
Where had she heard this before? Blue *and* green. It didn’t compute: something was ill fitting; broken even.
“Arkansaw,” she said softly, starting to figure it out. “Arkansaw,” she said again, one blue eye changing, seeing beyond the other, seeing North beyond South.
In the center, Missouri appeared — Miss Ouri. The new librarian.
(to be continued)
“Missouri or Arkansas? I’m going with Arkansas because of the redness (of the book). But maybe…”
“Missouri instead,” I completed for him.
“Michigan?!” shouted George from the side.
I knew there was only one way to find out. Purchase the monster book on the marketplace and then… open. Chapter 1 (potential): “Marble Falls, Marbles Fall”. A blue marble seems to have fallen out of the cover, leaving the monster with only one. But maybe the title is misleading.
“Chapter 1,” Alysha read later in the red book before her while she was sitting in the heart shaped chair, or a heart backed chair. Make sure it doesn’t turn into a spade, I thought for her.
She was at the monkey. “Marble Falls, Marbles Fall”, she said again, staring at the reversed image, a shadow if it was beneath her feet. “A heart becomes a spade.” And so it begins.
“Sometimes I don’t know where the blues begin and end, Esmerelda.”
Remaining silent, she stares out at the rocking and rolling boats as well. He’s obviously concerned about the waxing and waning Oesso logo on his chest, she thinks. Instability! The threat of re-absorption into the machinery. But she knows it also probably won’t happen. This was a test, after all. “Do that thing you do to the gas emblem,” requested the head honcho with her all white eyes spanning the universe itself but in a bad way. “See what happens; see if he has any weakness that we can exploit.” Nothing of significance spotted so far. He seems destined to leave again. “We can’t trap him,” she imagines saying to a displeased Mid-Hazel, dreading the rest of the day.
The Oesso logo remains stable now. He returns his attention to the table and the map upon it. “Any-way. Here it is, what you witches have been looking for. Mountainsburg to the west, Formosa — the LOST island — kind of to the north, Kate to the east. And a Little Rock in the middle, just enough to eventually get us out of New
York Orleans.” He then looks at the Cat-Witch’s colorful wafer cookies just beyond, wondering why the south pales in comparison. Further away than the rest from his angle? A symbol of Oesso itself? *Cat-Witch* is to the south, he reminds himself. The whole lot of ’em.
Esmerelda studies the map of Arkansas carefully, looking at the handwritten parts. Peter Oesso can’t cheat at this game because he doesn’t know how — yet. Best to strike a deal early before his presumptive ascent. “Sold,” she says. “You can have the girl.”
“Great.” He stares out again. “Now can you make at least *one* of these boats stop rocking so I can get the heck out of here??”
“Do you think Yoko Ona will make it back to the motel, David A.B.?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he waved it off. “SEAN’s here now.”
“And Arkansas right in the middle of things,” a studying SEAN “Green” Penn utters within a secret room behind the motel desk. Clerk Sarah McDooglehan didn’t mind. Since she was a dummy through and through. She’ll come to life soon enough as Yoko’s Cindy A., designer of planes and then murderous rockets. Enough to get the job done. The shot hit both Pipersville and Sink X at once — right in the middle. Just like Arkansas. And Missouri: 1/2 and 1/2.
“Check this out, Green,” spoke Blue from a table also in the room. “Martin Allen. Just like in Floyd County, Kentucky.”
“And Bennett County, SD. And NE. And MS. But everyone knows that has to do with poles. Polar explorers. Like Richard Byrd, except different.”
Jack Blue looked over. She was glad she decided to bring SEAN “Green” Penn back into the picture. Needed tangents. Like Peppi outside. She knew this was a Diamond of a case.
(to be continued)
“Well, go ahead and read me my A B C’s or 1 2 3’s or whatever. We’ll head down to the station, then, and see who’s who and what’s not.”
“Break it off, Kevin,” spoke Jenny, out of her role as Heartsdale police officer Candy Candle Cane. Because she’s always on fire. “Big Black Smoke is out of room 03 again.”
“Uuhhh. I don’t care.”
You have to go back, Jack. Blue is Pink and Pink is Blue. They’re calling for you.”
“Then I will take your name with me to remember you by, um, Precious. Jack Blue I am from now on.”
“Ingratiate yourself with Green, Brown. They will guide you. Leave Olive alone,” she warned.
They switched places and he ate her cake too.
“Jack Blue, huh? You don’t *look* like a Jack. You’re certainly blue, though.”
“And you’re Green,” Jack Blue quickly followed.
“Pink is dead.” SEAN “Green” Penn’s head hung low, remembering the day he heard like it was yesterday even though it was 5 years ago. Now he was in Little Rock, Arkansas but certainly with a bit of the (New Orleans) blues left. And now a Blue itself shows up. Himself, herself. Something.
“I know,” Jack Blue tries to console, also thinking about Brown. Plans gone awry! “Let’s turn our attention back to the map and the next step.”
Green wipes his eyes and tries to focus. It all comes into place eventually. The Big Picture.
After the successful gig, SEAN “Green” Penn and The Mann, owner of New Orleans Blues Little Rock for the moment, got as close to the pool table and the spread out map of Arkansas upon it as play would allow. They mapped out a strategy.
“I say we head for Formosa next, you know, the LOST island. Right up here.” The Mann pointed a little north of Little Rock, or as close as his pointing finger could get.
“How about Mountainburg?” SEAN countered, indicating west. “In the mountains–”
“Ozark, I know. Too dangerous,” The Mann opined. “Too many moonshiners. They’ll want us to stay more and that’ll be it. *Stuck*.” He sticks his finger on the pool table, like it’s glued there. He leaves it for about 3 seconds before removing to enhance the Elmer effect.
“What about Kate?” SEAN then spoke.
“What *about* Kate?” The Mann quickly followed, looking at SEAN’s eastward pointing finger this time. Close to the Mississippi River and Mississippi state leading to New Orleans. Can’t take the chance there either. Current could take them. He told this to SEAN.
“Well…” he said, heaving a resigned sigh. “Better just stay here a spell, then. This (he waves his arms around) Little Rock.”
“We could increase the Rock. Make it bigger. Would that help?”
Would it help? SEAN didn’t know right off.
… well, I think you know what I’m getting at here (odd crazy things turn into common ordinary things). Like this image I found while googling “‘Baxter County’ Arkansas map” just a minute ago, before logging in here. It was in the 5th row of hits, about 29 images down. But it stuck out, you see, because of my recent mentions of Hand in relation to this county…. LINK
A very odd picture — it represents an upside down map of the county since the Missouri state line is to the south instead of the north where it should be. Here’s the web site it’s from: