With all the going back and forth in time it’s always good to remember the present, the gift that keeps on giving.
Merry Christmas from all the toys at “Hello I Must Be Going” Aloha! (it’s still there!)
The bottle was flying all about the table outside but Edward was use to it.
Jem exhaled, looked around. “So this is the fabulous Hotel Adriano in Shamon.” Peter Ladd was born here, or at least conceived here, she thought, his parents like rabbits at the time. Why they’re here.
On his part, Edward, her Eddy, brought her to this place for another reason. They weren’t married, but if Edward had his way they soon would be, powers or no. He felt the ring case in his pocket press hard against his thigh. Had to be the perfect time to reveal. Not now… not with the bottle and all. It was flying faster and faster it seemed, with quirky motions like some kind of bug. Distracting. It’s even threatening his head a bit now.
“Dear,” he finally relented. And pointed.
“Oh, yes. I almost forget it’s there these days. Been a while since I’ve had my powers. Ever since…since…”
“Duck?” Edward Daigle offered.
“Yes,” said Jem, remembering the event. She even lost her ability to walk properly, or at least the others had told her that. She went past the 4th wall.
The bottle vanished before Edward’s eyes but only because she moved it somewhere else. “Good to be back on Jeogeot. I… was made here too. Just like Peter.”
“Peter?” Edward questioned, making Jem realize that Edward didn’t know about all that. Wrong probable reality. Besides, he knew she was made in “Gunpowder” (post) set in Dodgey City in photo-novel 31. She is a product of that town, restated and re-angled at the first of the current photo-novel, 36 in a series. In-between, yes, she was in Towerboro on the Jeogeot continent, and Edward was with her there. But she also made appearances in now defunct Ontario without him. Instead there: John. Definitely *not* a hairstylist or hairstyle. Edward knew that now fer sure.
Time for the present, which turned out to be presents. Edward grasped the ring case in his pocket at the same time Jem grasped the just manifested book in her lap. “I have something for–” they both said in unison, then laughed. “You go…” offered Jem, temporarily releasing the book and getting ready to accept whatever was coming across the table. “No, you,” said Edward back, trying to be more conscious of manners and act like a normal person for her.
He wish he hadn’t. He transformed his own present into a joke about 2 horses who couldn’t finish a race because they turned into rats, the ring remaining deep deep deep in his pocket after the one-eyed book was produced. Still Jem seemed pleased.
(to be continued)
It’s always fun when The Woods gives you something that directly resonates with your writing. Witness this 14.3 pound Fit For Life weight found just off a path pretty far away from any house, and an object I don’t think was there about a month ago when I first hiked it. Brings to mind both the blue ball or sphere seen in the last post, coupled with the reference of Shelley’s desire to take up weight-lifting a couple of posts before that. Now I’m convinced she needs to — bulk up her upper body to better fit into her male oriented wardrobe now. We’ll see how it goes. Thanks for continuing to read this stuff my fellow adventurers! We stay on the Orient-like Omega continent for at least the start of the next section. Let’s turn the Page again…
A mysterious pit, a waterfall, a cave behind another waterfall. Just routine type finds from another clear hiking day for ol’ Baker B (see captions).
Mysterious 20′ deep and 20′ diameter circular pit I ran across in nowheresville (about 4400′ elevation on an uninhabited mtn.). A lot of work for no clear function! Tough to take a good picture of — have to see it in person to appreciate.
Smaller waterfall, but with quite bizarre little cave directly behind it. Not sure how far it goes back; gives the appearance of a “portal”. Interesting rocks leading up to the falls and cave, almost acting like an aisle to it.
Fans of LOST might like this place I found yesterday on one of my daily hikes. Very reminiscent of Jacob’s Cabin — in the middle of frick’n nowhere.
Questions abound. Who lived in the cabin? Why did they leave? Was it just a hunting cabin? Has it been totally forgotten about over time due to its remoteness? Why the sink in the wall? etc., etc.
Next I visited a cemetery with tombstones variously marked Main, Maine, and Mains. I sensed a branching of probable realities, especially when a stream called Mine is nearby. Did a Main, Mine, Maine or Mains inhabit the cabin? Did the cabin, as an anomaly of some kind, cause this apparent distortion or blurring of names in the first place?
addition: Did you know the Man in Black lived in Jacob’s Cabin? Would explain the higher ceiling.
A trio of men: Cowboy, Indian, Black. And behind them: still fuzzy. Maybe someone named… Frank?
“I’m remembering,” spoke Jennifer “Shelley” Struthers, turning into that Lane, seeing further than before, beyond the edge of virtual reality itself. Stinkerfoot.
Roll him over, look into his eyes. MENTION that the gnome had disappeared. Someone purposely took it. I looked all around the rocks it once inhabited in its 2 locations that we know of.
CRUX — think of relationship with Apostrophe album, the apostrophe itself according to Frank.
Did the Tigers get to him anyway, despite being taken away from the more prominent rock perch and tucked, hopefully safely, behind a nearby tree? The story of County Park basically ends there, as another location I had my eye on for a toy happening was blocked — someone else was already present, a nice enough bloke but obviously living off the land. I knew where he lived; he was telling me that, albeit unconsciously in all likelihood, unless he was an alien himself, ha. He filled my space quite effectively. He, in all likelihood, needs it more.
Back to virtual…
The Gods took pity on poor, naive Barry, took him over to what in my reality is a local biking park, perched him on a trail-side rock way up its 4038 foot high namesake summit for all to see when passing, to judge, to test their own meddle.
One succumbed. The Gods knew this would happen. His damaged eye was cleaned up and he was put behind a tree, more out of sight. The Tigers could not get to him here.
Barry was safe, but we are also finished with his story for now, along with his Mom’s. 112 and out.
Humorously designed sign at the beginning of a local trail you probably wouldn’t know about unless you’re a devoted mountain biker, since it’s way up a 750 foot knob (The Knob). Not the easiest location to reach by foot.
And on the other side of this same trail: that damn moving gnome. The other day I dared to touch the possibly cursed object for closer examination. It looks to me upon turning it over that the name of the little f-er is Stinkerfoot — logical extension of “…inkerfoot”.
But when googling Stinkerfoot up popped at the top of my search results this video of a song called “Stink-Foot” by Frank Zappa from his most famous album “Apostrophe”, its closing track. This album also contains the well known “Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow” I just referenced in a recent post.
Google also offered to search specifically for Stinkerfoot instead of the suggested Stinkfoot, but upon doing so understood why they substituted the latter in the first place. Nothing really significant found using the former. So there you have it. Zappa works his way back into our story from a direction you might least expect.
As reported earlier, found this little 8″ or so f-er 4/5ths the way up a local 750 foot mountain about a week and a 1/2 back and thought: someone made quite the effort to get this gnome here and perch it for all to see on this rock visible from a primarily biking trail. Went back today specifically for a revisit and, after quite a search, found him instead peering at me from behind a tree across the trail from the rock. Funny thing: that mote or speck of dirt in his eye formerly seen…
… was now gone. I could almost hear him laughing.
Gnomes, pheh; bastards know too much.