Category Archives: Novels

October 14, 2023 · 7:32 am

00400409

So unable to do so herself because she was underaged and also didn’t have a payment record on file with the Lab, Marsha “Pink” Krakow had to take her place on the lime green karaoke stage of Kenzie’s Korner in Kuradov while she watched as best she could from outside. Marsha tried to sing to her as much as possible through the window, feeling sorry for the self proclaimed war scarred doll-girl. She warmed up with “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor, a crowd favorite from the 70s. Then it was on to “Rockaway Beach” by The Ramones from about the same time period — she was getting closer. Then Ozzie Ozbourne’s “Crazy Train” took her all the way home to “Jackie Blue” by another “Oz” act, Ozark Mountain Daredevils in that case. She knew she was singing all about herself now, like a canary. Canary in a mine? No, just canary, she realized. “Oooo hoo hoo, Jackie Blue,” she belted out the first line like there was no tomorrow. Which there wasn’t.

She’d never left her doll cage. Drugged up by the implant in her head to believe she was free again and her imprisoner was her friend, not fiend. *They* recorded it all.

And then the next night she went down the stairs that didn’t exist and out of the neighboring Rockaway Beach prison and did the same. Over and over and over. Slowly, gradually, the Ozmo Daredevils song lyrics began to change; take their true form. She was beginning to remember. They almost had the final original version.

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October 13, 2023 · 4:13 pm

apple red hiding a key

“Thank gods you have arrived. Now I can be free to exact my revenge.”

“Revenge?” spoke Marsha “Pink” Krakow, unsure what part of the prison they’re in but knowing it was a crucial place, a decision point. She was not ready to let the doll in front of her go. She has the key.

“Yes. The people that put me here. The Durexians. They came to Mountain Lake where me and my doll mates often bathe our parts. They took us. Here. Prisoners of war. Exchanged for information. First Dolly — obviously — with a name like that it would seem she’d have the most knowledge. But stupid as a porcelain dish she was. So, frustrated, they took Dimmy, thinking it was an ironic name too and maybe *he’d* have valuable information to give them. But: the same. Dimmy was not an ironic name.”

Marsha tried to speed up the conversation. *She* needed information. And here was one willing to talk, sing even, perhaps. Sing sing.

“What about the canary?” she decided to phrase it.

“Oh it died in the mine,” Billie almost responded, humor chip activated just by someone showing up. She was always pondering a joke when others were around. “Oh it died,” she actually said, stating the stark truth and that alone. She took off her hair to show what happened.

(to be continued)

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October 13, 2023 · 3:47 pm

Sandy Too

“No, I wasn’t really gone,” answered still neighbor Sandy to Pink, “I just changed forms. And sexes as you can see.” Now we can *really* get to know each other better, he thinks. The search for All Orange continues…

His spiral eyebrow curls even higher.

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October 13, 2023 · 2:37 pm

new gal

She just remembers bits and pieces of her existence there. Like this entrance to what she understood as Pipewold, a concept first encountered on New Island not far west south of here. It has moved, she understood. Part of the same continent but in a different location. She always liked pipes. Until she came here. On the far end: a doll, she knew.

She remembers Billy. Or Billie. Soon she would take her place. She had the key.

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October 13, 2023 · 2:10 pm

00400405

“There!” she cried again. “Mother’s apple!” She was still studying, still perusing the category “All Orange” in the blog through her remote feed. Orange slice after orange slice, she ate, trying to get the whole, rounded picture.

“And there!”

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October 12, 2023 · 11:02 am

00400404

She was back in her old room doing remote research. Mother provided free food, just like in childhood. She had a tape recorder and several hour long tapes in which to record her thoughts. She started at the beginning and worked her way up to the present. Early on she found her Volkswagen bug. “There!” she pointed out to herself and herself only. For now. “Like Emma’s, like Jack’s before her. Or after her, doesn’t matter. A story in a brook.”

The man is Tropp, she recalled. Grown up from Opp and wearing a birthday hat instead of a birthday suit. But she gets the point. He started out as an Mmmmmm but became more, unlike his cousin Grassy who remained a mere toy. He walks pass the bug and through the arch to yesterday’s tomorrowland.

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October 12, 2023 · 9:12 am

Meanwhile…

She was through with prison for a while, having properly finished her sentence there (“–goddess”). She took her new found knowledge about the cow, All Orange, etc. back to Broadwater. Or actually Osbourne Beach to the south of the new strip mall instead of west. Prison was north. Pink saw pink and understood. Herself. She could handle it if she remained off the grid grid and all the square stuff where Utah merged with Omega and tended to cancel it all out, good triumphing over evil, it thought. She had to make peace with her mother. She had to gain knowledge from her library in de skies.

“Yes, there it is,” she said to her after thumbing to the right page in Book 18. “All Orange.”

“We begin there, then,” came the reply.

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October 11, 2023 · 3:26 pm

sing sing

In a hidden wing of the prison she finds a big clue, perhaps a master map. Gazing at pink, she knows where she is. And who she is! She dispenses with the cow part, hoping to remember more.

It worked! All Orange beneath (perfection). “I am a–.”

—–

“Once you finish your meditation we can begin the reading, Edward.”

“Still can’t believe you’re a (prison) psychic as well as a bartender, Nas,” he spoke from his yoga position across the scrying table. Another Golden Goddess, he thinks. A chain! And all he had to do was set up a date later on to pay. Perfection once more.

“*Concentrate*. Put the question foremost in your mind.”

—–

“This prison can no longer hold you, Edward, her Eddie,” she read. “You have past through the 2 pillars. 10 becomes 1 from bottom to top and you begin again. You will have enough money to prosper or at least be comfortable in your olden age to do so.”

Good but not original Golden Goddess good, Eddie intuits here. He must return to her.

Now he just has to wait on Pink to finish her sentence.

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October 10, 2023 · 8:08 am

synchronicity02

Tired from her “tour” and walking so much, Marsha “Pink” Krakow sits down at a conveniently placed bar in the middle of it all. She would have settled for water but all they had here apparently was alcohol by the looks of it. And also no one tending the thing. She ended up pouring her own beer, an Anheuser product, probably Busch. Only one other person in the place and that was a woman dressed like a horse sitting at a table against the wall. She figured: protection, like she had on her cow suit for same. But in truth this was the bartender on an unsanctioned break, black mare outfit merely indicating her employee status.

She dreamed of being a novelist, Star Team fan fiction to be precise we could call it. She was waiting on the publisher to judge her latest effort, a two-pronged story about the perils of asteroid belts and also belts in general, including one the Captain wanted his new favorite helmsman to start wearing. He introduced it to her by saying it could transport her to another realm altogether and that he could then join her there if they were properly synchronized. Then the asteroid belt hit and they had to laser a hole through the biggest, darkest one in order to make it out and continue toward their destination. “You see?” she said to her publisher who was interested but not sold yet, calling to ask more questions to assess the ultimate value of the book — money value obviously, the way publishers have to be these days in a dog eat dog, capitalist driven world. “It’s all Freudian (she continued). Readers would eat it up without even knowing it’s trash at the bottom. Or, to use another analogy, wouldn’t even taste the normally intolerable hot spice I added to the meal.”

Shady Lane Publishers worried about the Star Team angle, obviously a nod to Star Trek. They consulted their own team, legal in that case. No go, they said. Can’t take the risk. And so Liz was served with a big thumbs down the day after the call. And here she is. Drinking on the job because of it.

She got the Pleiades angle from a map conjunction in Pennsylvania…

… and a map conjunction in Pennsylvania.

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October 9, 2023 · 4:21 pm

00400316

At 11, Ketchup Tom came a knocking at the door. Serenity Lane crept in from the opposite direction while he did, wondering why the punk was here as well. Sleepy Eddie rouses himself, steps over still snoozing Dogg by the bed, answers the door. But there was nobody there. It was all because of what was spoken by Marsha and, er, Bethany, um, Ginger — Mrs. Ordinary — at the tiny cafe just across the Big Channel. Because they were figuring out stuff, enough to cause ghost realities to suddenly rez in, probabilities to come into the light which didn’t exist before. Ketchup and Serenity showing up at Marsha’s door at the same time. They had the same goal in mind was the symbolism. And Eddie was in the middle which was unfortunately in the way. But they didn’t get the chance to tell Eddie since the probable reality evaporated when Mrs. Ordinary paid the expensive bill, rum not being cheap in these here parts. Things like this happen more than you realize, folks. It’s all in the books. Eddie goes back to bed, writing off the knocks as part of a dream. A different kind of sleep, then, he’s in.

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