Category Archives: Novels

January 10, 2020 · 7:44 am

other returns

“If you take away the Fire Tree it all begins to make sense. We can peer back into a time when the deserted village was full of life and living. The days before Tully. The wonder years.”

“Was that before the mist or after?” Parasol asked, trying to be patient with Ingo’s historic ramblings. She had a meeting with Herbert Glenn Gold at quarter past 10. Yeah, she was pissed at him (hence the full name again).

“Before of course.”

She glanced out the window at the Fire Tree she couldn’t quite see from this angle. She couldn’t wait any longer. Time to *see* Herbert.

—–

“I was wondering where we would meet,” spoke up Herbert. Wonder again, thought Parasol. It was here she realized Ingo was right about the Fire Tree, the village. All of it.

She jumped right into it. No time for niceties tonight. “I want you to *get* her here. I want to trap her like a fly in a bottle.”

“Erm.” He shivered as her feet dangled menacingly above him. As he stood on one. “*Who* are we talking about here?”

“You know who.”

—–

George V. Norris, barely 2 feet tall, prepared to play the harp in his wee abode. “A Bach tune will do tonight,” he squeaked to himself, then reconsidered. “Or is it Buch.”

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January 10, 2020 · 6:33 am

the return of Purple (and) Bear

“One of us is going to kill the other one, you know.”

“I know. (pause) I hope it’s you.” Communication bleeps from the opposite side of the room. They both stare over.

“The Oracle says it’s time for me to ride your back over to the island, Mr. Purple.”

He puts away the knife. For now. “Hop on.”

—–

“Faster. Faster!”

—–

By the time he reached the island, Purple (and) Bear had become one again. He stares over at his old house. The one stolen from him by Rules of Rose.

(to be continued?)

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January 9, 2020 · 9:05 am

Serenity again

He was just a kooky old Japanese guy on permanent vacation. But at least he brought his slippers to Rose-, er, this *place*, unlike fellow vacationer Donald Farr before him earlier this winter. He’d heard the robot play the 2 “Gouldberg Variations” in a row, a realm favorite thanks to Merry. Bookends they were, and belonged together as one. Now he was ready for Zoidboro’s sermon at the Church of the Fly Lord behind him here. Perhaps he’d meet Peter today. Parasol said he would like him. Another old dude. And spoke a bit of Japanese, even.

—–

“The world is a windshield,” Zoidboro preached through tentacle covered mouth, “waiting to take you out when you least suspect it. Take Little Timmy Flick last week over on Highway 52 behind the old Tastee Freeze. Take Thomas the Elder this past Tuesday before the last Wednesday after Monday’s Friday at the Yoko Ona Parody Museum, in the parking lot even. Yea, parking lots can be dangerous too. Central parking lots especially. To get to a Square, you must always Times something….”

Ji-San turned to the man sitting next to him and spoke low beneath the sermon. “Are you per chance Peter?”

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January 8, 2020 · 6:24 am

Areogeleye

“There,” Wheeler declared. “Down at the bottom.” She bends down. “A blue eye!”

“Your… *missing* eye?” Baker Blinker asks, staring down as well at the grassy being with one blue eye, the left one (to it).

“Yes. We must observe this closely.” She stands back, taking in the whole work.

Newton Collage 09, (in)formally “TILE Waterfall”. She sees this through the checked description. “TILE,” she then utters. “Does *Karoz* know about this one?”

“I– I’m…”

“We better ask,” Wheeler stated, not letting Baker Blinker finish. She could tell her new partner didn’t know. But Karoz was the last person Baker Blinker wanted to talk to right now. Not after what she had just done.

We may also note that this is the 49th collage of the 100 piece “Art 10 x 10” housed in the Collagesity cubic skybox called the Edwardston Station Gallery that Wheeler Wilson and Baker Blinker are presently combing through for clues. The 49th room of Kowloon’s 100 Story Building similarly contains a “spilled” black liquid combined with bright white. We’ve already seen it here: the dream cat called Space spills black ink while diminutive feline companion Star seems to spill a contrasting white milk and then revel in the mixture. We don’t have a white *spill* here, yet white *absorption* through a synthetic, ultralight porous material called areogel. The blue eye *eyes* the areogel, knowing what it actually stands for.

This is black and white combined again.

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January 7, 2020 · 6:49 am

hidden

But something still doesn’t add up. Or multiply. We have another on the rooftops quite near the Bird — staring at it even — leaf umbrella in hand shielding his *head*, if not necessarily the rest of his body, from the localized rain surrounding the whale directly above him.

He has a different tattoo on it than Fish Head, but, otherwise, the same body it seems. A bird instead? Dry instead of wet?

And, to be specific, the rotating Bird he’s peering toward only has the head of such. The (white) body is instead that of a female human, outstretched arms sort of giving the appearance of wings.

If only I could translate the native languages better inworld, Chinese and Japanese. Because both are used here.

Maybe a trick to understanding all this is start seeing through walls. For example, we find a mysterious *hole* using this method directly below Fish Head’s bar on the ground level.

Where does this lead us?

Underwater, it turns out. A more realistic abode for, let’s say, a fish.


“You’re not going to be able to figure it out.”

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January 7, 2020 · 5:42 am

bar fight?

The Fish goes its separate way from the Head. Like seeks like.

Although the rain still pelts down, he is above the fray now.

Unlike the Bird perched down below, the Fish doesn’t revolve. Take that as you will. Just an fyi.

The bar directly below the Bird seems vacated. Is this a dying city?

It’s a rival bar to (grounded) Fish Head’s just down the alley. Did Fish Head cause the closure? Is his known confidant, the Heart Queen, also responsible?

Rotation, hmm.

One way to find out.

“Did you cause the closure of the Bird’s bar?”

“No.

—–

“I mean maybe.

—–

“Yes.”

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January 5, 2020 · 6:46 pm

87 02

“I’m going to make you partially transparent so don’t panic.”

“Okay, here’s the problem. Or deal. *I* sit on the black stool that represents the 8 ball. 88 01 (let’s say), you are on the orange “2” stool and 88 02 (we’ll say), you’re perched on the yellow “3”. Wheeler then considered something else. “Stool, huh.” She then took a remote picture before returning to the 87 Room.


Room 61

“Alright, so between you is an XVideos labelled laptop that, to me, obviously is suppose to represent “x” as in *times* something. But 3 *times* 2 (she points to the 3 associated objects in turn) equals 6. Added to my 8 (stool) you get 86. But this is (Room) 87.

If you consider the X might be a cross (+) it goes even one further from the truth, since 80 (points to herself) plus 3 (points to 88 01) plus 2 (points to 88 02) equals 85. Now the XVideos laptop sits on a stool representing the 1 ball in pool, the blue one. To me, this *must* represent Blue Eye, the missing one in either Arkansas or Missouri. So here’s the solution, people. I’m 80, you guys are 3 *times* 2 or 6, and then the stool, the one, when added in at last — *not* multiplied — brings us to the needed 87. You have to count the missing one hidden by the X to make sense of it all.

“So what’s the problem?” I asked just beyond the wall.

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January 5, 2020 · 6:00 pm

87 01

“It’s time to take one of you observing 88’s to the room to see what went missing. Maybe both of you. Yeah: both.”

—–

“First, a little wine before we start. Sorry you can’t have any, guys.” (sip)

“Guys? Can you hear me?”

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January 5, 2020 · 10:25 am

up down

“*Rebl*? What happened to your *eye*??”

Shark? What shark?”

Plans?”

Flash bulb? Blinding? *Disappeared*?”

“Go ahead,” she urged. “Find out where it leads. It won’t hurt you. Like it did me.”

“Aahh!”

—–

“Somewhere in this Edwardston Station Gallery, my love, my *future* love, is a clue to the whereabouts of my missing eye. I can feel it. So close.” But still they walk right by.

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January 5, 2020 · 8:07 am

fly

We watch him from beyond the wall. He was on a journey. Lamb was taking him somewhere. Along the way he picked up two traveling companions who might have been figments of his imagination. Probably were. “Who are you?” he decides to ask despite this when they first came alongside him. “Space,” announced the larger being with black jacket and matching black pants. “Star,” came the piping voice of the smaller, blue hooded one. Both some kind of cartoon cats, assumed Guy, looking them over from the side. All traveling through the heavens on Lamb toward — something. How long before arrival?

Along the way, Space fleshed out a backstory of how, many *many* years ago, he spilled ink from a bucket or can, while Star had spilled milk from a smaller container. Together, hand in hand, this created our galaxy, he claimed. “That’s why Milky Way is here with its neon coat of white,” Star furthered, obviously reveling in the mixture. “We are travelers of the Lamb dimension now.”

Facing forward, the cats were suddenly gone. He was alone in his journey to what he now understood was the Answer to Everything, with only a looming, translucent wall between him and it….

SLAM! Guy Benjamin woke up. He excitedly relayed the details of his dream to fellow “Lamb” fan Grandpapa the next morning.

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