Category Archives: Lapara

decibels smecibels

Rocky closes up the market and bar tonight and steps outside to look in the direction of the Wanderlust Art Truck. It’s received quite good press in various blogs and other social media outlets,* and the raccoon is certainly glad of the extra business his store has gotten as a result.


Thanks Levi!

He’s saving up quite the nest egg. But as the old saying goes, winter is coming, and the tourists will trickle down and eventually go away as the snow lays thick on the streets of Olde Lapara Towne. He’s frankly tired of cold winters. Peter, Paul and Mary — I mean, Lamb — were smart to retreat down into the much more temperature regulated underground and create Malone Central, he thinks. But that’s disappeared too apparently, as everyone has gone through the sand dunes/sand castle portal into this mythical land of Hana Lei. He thinks here of a particular collage in Baker Bloch’s small art gallery upstairs featuring David Bowie.


“Twisted”

Rocky decides to go back into the store to check again, just to make sure. He passes through the phantom red door into Audrey’s and takes the old timely teleporter to Grasslands. He always seems to bring his gun with him when comes down here lately.

Yes, he remembers now. The last remaining, actual grass of Grasslands, along with the sand dunes portal, had to go away to make prim room for the upstairs art gallery. And local punk band Story Room lost their remaining OLT venue since the theatre space formerly there was also eradicated, and this just after they were banned from playing at Clownski’s after a new noise ordinance was passed by the town council. Our two local bands, lost in a single stroke, he ponders. Rocky thinks of another old saying: Lamb dies with Ram. Baker Bloch tried to prevent it from happening by moving the future focus back into the here and now of the present. Yes, Rocky has his market, has a bar, has a small gallery even. Things are good in October. But even November can get snowy, and the anthropomorphic animal longs to see Santa Claus without Jack Frost always tagging along and nipping at his nose.

He’s not even going to think about how his new novel is coming, and the lack of sales for the old one. Because it’s target practice time once again!

—-

* See, for example, several of my friend Veyot’s recent posts from her “Veyot’s Views” tumblr site (tag = Lapara):

http://veyot.tumblr.com/tagged/Lapara

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Bodega Market

Chroma gets around. The next morning she visits Baker Bloch’s new upstairs gallery at the Olde Lapara Towne’s Bodega Market and takes notes. She especially likes the large red work of the 8 piece exhibit: “See title 02”.

A balance for “See title 01” on the opposite side of the room, hmmm.

Chroma’s all for symmetry. And mystery for that matter. But now it’s time for an early martini at Audrey’s just below (a.k.a. Red Door Bar) and a chat with Terry. Not the same as Terri, obviously, but related.

Teleporting down, Chroma didn’t realize what a big boy Terry was getting to be. He’s grown!

They talk of New Lynne and the purchase of additional magical seeds.


Bodega Market: Red Door Bar in back; Art gallery upstairs; Teleporter inside door.

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Ring

They were waiting in Clownski’s for the start of filming tonight when Wheeler got the ring. Seeing who the caller was, she distanced herself from Rocky in case it was bad news.

“Uh huh,” she said, listening to Baker Bloch. “2, maybe 3 more months. Until Christmas.” She listened some more. “Uh huh.” She bit at a fingernail and spit on the floor. “Okay, I’ll tell Rocky.” The call ended.

Wheeler Wilson sat down again opposite Rocky in the booth. “Good news, Mr. Racco. Baker Bloch’s said the Bodega Supermarket and Deli can stay a while. You’re a store owner still… for now.”

Rocky rapidly clapped his hands together and jumped up and down a little, even. “What’d he say, what’d he say?”

“He said he’s going to try out a gallery upstairs. Said there was more stories to tell. I guess he meant second floor stories.” She smiled.

“Tealie,” began Rocky again. “Tealie, Tealie, Tealie.”

Wheeler stared at him blankly. “Anyway, he said filming is off tonight. His graphic novel may be completed. I was wondering how he was going to create a town set 50 years in the future full of robots. Seems he’s chickened out of all that.”

“As he should! Present is the point of power. Let’s go back and tell Terry!”

—–

“Because a futuristic town would have been way too much to pull off.”

“Sure would have, Wheeler.”

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2017 LATER”!

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finishes 04

Nancy leads Rocky around the transmogrified village, showing him various things that are different now.

This includes the Defiance Cemetery across the tracks, still tiny but with several additional graves and revamped tombstones to fit the future times, along with some artificial ground mist.

“Razielians we are now,” Nancy explains. She points to each grave in turn. “Still Richard, Danny, Linda at the top, but those little ones — our children. Star and Par, named after the two sims of the town. Young they were at death.” She stops here, being still unable to weep at the sight despite many years passing.

“Where is your grave?” Rocky asks, looking around.

“I am not buried with Danny according to the laws of our new religion. Advantages it has from the standpoint of appealing to the mechanoids, which began to outnumber us regular flesh and blood citizens starting in 2049. Or was it 2059? Anyway, that’s the main reason for the switch. Robots. Tronesisia became a high priestess herself. A popess or female pope, some claimed, although I processed all the paperwork of town, being the city clerk, and never saw an official decree to that regard. I would know.”

“What happened to Danny?”

Nancy sighed. “He never became a vampire and remained in his grave, looking for pipes and other plumbing to fix in the great beyond. I died a lonely spinster at the age of 72. But I am young again now in appearance. Don’t I look super for 72 years plus 1?”

“So Star and Par aren’t Danny’s children? I’m confused.”

“I was pregnant at the time of his death.” She stops again.

“Look,” says Rocky, pointing toward town. “Someone is over there.”

Wheeleria likewise turns around, knowing Rocky couldn’t see her.

But nothing is there except the side of the Razielian synagogue. *Can* he see her? It hasn’t happened in 50 or so years but maybe… maybe…

(to be continued)

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finishes 03

The Librarian walks through the door without opening it. Rocky sees no choice except to follow suit…

… but on the other side the figure is nowhere to be seen. Rocky stands alone.

He peers around at the cobweb filled room with its two huge spiders (Boris and Doris Webb)…

… and understands where he is. The Magill House. The Magill Hill House, the Hill House. The House on the Hill. The point is, it still stands in this reality he now inhabits; hasn’t fallen off the edge of town to be destroyed on the grassy plain 100 meters below thanks to Story Room’s thump thump thumping from the night before.

And it now has a ghost on the upstairs porch.

“Rooo-cky,” the spectre calls in the haunting way ghosts do. “Roo-cky,” she repeats. “Roooo-cky,” she wails again. He reaches her.

“Nancy??”

(to be continued)

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finishes 02

Rocky was walking around town just after 2am the next night, pondering over the hard choice he had to make, when he came upon it to his right. The structure most like the one he was renting in town, suddenly filled. Musaks was the name. He remembered the establishment use to be beside Baker Bloch’s rental in Tenement Square. Within still were a number of orchestrions and gramaphones, all powered up and producing a kind of spooky cacaphony in toto. And then in back, a steam calliope; he didn’t remember that from before.

But what is the lilting tune he automatically finds himself playing to add to those already thick in the air. Checking the object’s description, he sees it’s something called “Girls Just Require Amusement” by a C. Lauper, who he doesn’t know. He stands up.

The Librarian had just appeared out of nowhere at the lone desk of the room, reading a book as usual. Rocky decided just to stay calm and take the manifestation in stride.

“What are you reading — Librarian isn’t it?” The figure didn’t answer but just kept on studying the book in his hands. Rocky takes a look.

“Oh, it’s *my* book, hmmm. ‘Bible Truth.’ But I don’t remember a hardback edition being published yet. You must have one of the first copies.” Still nothing from The Librarian. “Is that the one where Nancy dies at the end?”

The Librarian closes the book and puts it on the desk while standing. He backs up a little bit and, hands together, begins to stare at the wall. Rocky gazes with him in silence.

A red door appears.

(to be continued)

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finishes 01

Story Room brought down the house last night at Rocky’s. Literally, because the MaGill home next door fell off the edge of town with the vibrations. Thump thump thump thump from 6 to 12. Everyone in Astarte loved it, though. Teebestia actually turned into a black woman for several minutes of “Fire Ants,” much to the surprise of accompanying Hoss. A minute after 12 he asked her out on a date. “Sure,” she said, doused in sweat and still wildly swaying to the music only in her head now. “Malone Central okay? They have a new Starbucks.” And so another couple was created in Olde Lapara Towne, adding to Nancy and Danny, Bettie and Buster, Tronesisia and Peter, Mary and Paul. Another happy ending. But what of Rocky? His piano eliminated from the stage due to lack of space, he sulked in the back. Even Terry had brought a date: Wanesa, the local butcher. He pondered his options while watching lead singer Improvio pretend-spitting into the crowd for the umpteenth time. Stay here in Olde Lapara Towne and go back to his crawlspace in the hotel, or head to Collagesity with Baker Bloch, Wheeler Wilson, and maybe a couple of others. Lamb had left the scene just before the concert began. Peter, Paul and Mary, each loaded down with as much weedy grass as their backpacks could hold, had used the sand dune/sand castle portal located directly beneath Rocky’s to transfer to Melancholy Island, with a change in disposition there surely to follow. They would never return to the town which had displaced pastoral folk music in their hearts with the sturm und drang of punk. Thanks to that cursed ring.

(to be continued)

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