TO BE CONTINUED…
Category Archives: Pipersville/Sink X
“So the A.Team’s rocket was never launched. Chip Shot, Pipersville in the future, was saved.”
“Oh the bomb reached Chip Shot. Wiped it pretty clean out. But it’s like that church choir practice synchronicity from Beatrice, Nebraska, US of A. Pretty much everyone was out of town at the time. Sink X is there for a reason. It’s a residue crater for certain — not a legitimate, Sinkology verified sinkhole. The Brown-Bower theorems prove that conclusively. So that part can’t be changed. But we got almost everyone out. Save one.”
“The Gno King,” I guessed after a beat.
“No,” replied Detective Biff Carter, still on the hunt. “He or she survived in the Room. It was on the north side of Chip Shot but the south side of Pipersville. When the former rebuilt as the latter after the War of Southern Aggression.”
“So the Gno King hid out in the room and survived the blast.”
“No… not the Gno King. Get that trail out of your noggin. It was someone else. We know he (or she) was there because of the maths, though. They couldn’t work out the way they did if not.”
“Your Mama. Your Mama was in the Room.”
“It’s on the north side of Chip Shot,” and here patient, precise Detective Carter moved his right hand away from me on the bar counter, and pivoted it sideways, as in a karate chop, “and the south side of Pipersville — when it came about.” He opened his near hand with the same gesture but facing the opposite direction. “Where’s the other gun, Marcus? What’s neither North (he moved his far hand back toward me) nor South (he moved his near hand away from me until they met in the middle to make a fused statement)?”
I thought I was Clever, like a Fox. I thought I was Smart (hence the names). But I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around it. I’d need more help.
“Can I phone a friend?” I joked.
“We’re nearing the end, Jim B., but we have no end. We’re doomed! I’m going to pray for one.”
“Not so fast my fellow B. There’s the car. Fast.”
The person in the back pondered whether to order another box of donuts.
Keith B. unfolded his hands and looked outside. “Little Jimmy? Bought on a whim?”
“No, the other Porsche. The throw-in.”
“Penny 1.01? That old clunker?”
“Maybe the first, then. Whassitsname again?”
“Like the sausage?” which made Keith B. think about something else.
“Um… different than the sausage.”
“I wonder if they have sausage here?” asked sweets weary Jim B.
“Donuts, 12 more donuts!” the yellow man shouts from in back.
Sweet Alice waited for the Magic Bus out of Pipersville. Sweet Alice asked for marriage to Jim A., who she knew as Jim A. Brown, owner of the Diamond Club and keyboardist in the resident band The B.’s. Her father unsurprisingly said no. Hence the birth of the Gno King legend and the entrapment of the fair maid inside the Indecypherable Tower until rescued by Master Ben Bolt five long years later. Only he could break the code.
“What reason do you give *now* for the ‘no'”, she begged before leaving the town perched on the edge of Sink X. Everyone was starting to feel the radiation effects, either directly or indirectly. “Pipes,” he plainly put it to her from his soon-to-be-established Kingdom, which was actually anywhere he physically stood. “Pipes, table, door, bars, um… do I need to go further?” Sweet Alice automatically assumed a modest pose where she covered he clothed body with strategically placed hands. He didn’t need to go further.
Buster Damm dared to take off a tiny bit of time from studying and scouting to bring our old friend Duncan Avocado into the picture. They sat in the same VHC City diner, in the same booth even where the original agreement was made. Duncan still wore the Pot-D heart-within-skeleton-hands pendant. Buster still knew where he was at any moment. “Sooo. Here we are, Duncan.”
“We are,” spoke Duncan plainly. He didn’t hesitate this time; he’d been around the cell block too many times in the meantime. “Whatever it is: yes.”
“Great!” Buster immediately spat in his hand and leaned forwards across the table. 5 minutes till sunrise…
Duncan A. woke up in a captive position, but then stood up. No chains this time. Relief! He wipes his forehead of perspiration and looks around. Pipes. This must be Pipersville Buster talked about. He moves to the table on the far side of the room.
African-American nudie pic, he ruminates. Jim A.’s heartthrob, he understands, the thing that held *him* captive. What happened to her? he wonders, then turns. One way to find out. He ascends the stairs out of there and tries the door: unlocked. Still not a captive.
He opens the door. Music.