Category Archives: 0108

another one LOST

He’d run into Philip Strevor on the mean streets of Heartsdale, who told SEAN “Green” Penn to meet him here to receive more information about the Missouri “Most Foul” Murder Mystery he and Blue were now trying to solve together. “Hello there!” SEAN observed on the motel lobby’s window shortly after teleporting to the location. Optimistic!

Oh dear.

SEAN sensed a trap, especially since Philip Strevor was nowhere to be found. Too late. The rats were upon him like tiny hounds of hell. Yeo the cat looked on at the carnage unbemused, seeing it all before.

“Whoooaa Nelly!!” *MUNCH*

*Down* goes SEAN. Only one original color left now. Blue was warned not to bring her into the story but — here goes anyway.

—–

“Green is dead now, Olive. Brown too. Pink as well. It’s only — you and me.”

“Perfect,” she responded, and then split herself. Split in two that is, June remaining seated and Jane standing now. But call her Phyllis. Phyllis Phox. Still married to Ben Wolf last seen somewhere in the Southeast I believe, but heading toward Southwest. We better catch up with him. Or else…

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0108, Heartsdale^^, The Waste^^

jazz slang

“Real real good to see you down in New Orleans, yeah. Real reet.”

“*Well*, Marty. We’re not *going* to New Orleans as it turns out. We’re avoiding that boat, that dream.”

“Real reet, yeah.” Then bass voiced Marty stops talking to actually listen to The Man.

“Marty Marty Marty,” The Man starts again. “You should have never left Legos to make the new album. You’re not *black* enough, and I know a thing about black. Why you’re — you’re about as black as White Elvis, and that’s not much.” He points to his wig, perhaps still covering the ant saliva from before.

“Listen,” responded Marty, realizing his own hair is really the only black thing about him.

“Yes, good. Arkansas we’re at and Arkansas we’ll stay. The boat and the stream remain empty, devoid of content.” The Mann then stares at the bar. “And what about this setting? So shallow. Where’s the actual bar with a bartender and all.” He takes another swallow of Jack Daniels in disgust. If only all this were a dream.

“Silly love songs.”

“Yeah. Those too.”

1 Comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0108, Ashenlave, Corsica^^

judgment

Exhausted, Tronesisia finally stopped playing the harp for tonight. She looked around, red eye still in place. Where was she? The afterlife?

No. Still in Danshire.

And there were other instruments left to play in the same antiquated house. She switches to keyboards and fingers something different. The red eye finally recedes.

In the next room, Herbert Gold, Furry Karl, Heidi Hunt Ives, Norris, and perhaps some others not in this particular shot fade into view to listen in on the gorgeous music, flowing like platinum prune into their ears and senses. That was actually the name of the song: “Platinum Prune.” Or “In Search of…”, with the almost priceless prune theoretically showing up at the end of the overall suite of songs, drawing them inward and onward. Much better than Steel Raisin. We begin a journey.

—–

She paused in reading her just published novel “Olive, Green and Pink”. “Ben, dear, it’s gotten suddenly quite chilly in here. Could you put another log on the fireplace?”

“‘Bout bedtime,” he counters, faking a yawn and not sensing anything out of the ordinary himself. One thing on his mind right now.

Picking up on this, she stares over at him after he finishes, trying to decide. Book or boy?

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0108, Benangatron, Corsica^^

Serenity

Parasol had much to study.

Fire tree, old quarry, Purple Bear. There was still time to switch from red to blue but the hourglass was about to turn over.

The dance was over for Purple (and) Bear. The robot stopped playing.

And… *begin*.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0108, Rosehaven^^

auditions

“Not too bad for seconds, Hatfield, but also: not good enough. 3.3 seconds. You needed 10.”

“Eek, my spine,” he managed in-between groans.

“Next! Announce yourself first before mounting the Wild Whale.”

“Um, TV. Colored TV.”

“Do you, Mr. TV, understand the challenge facing you? The Wild Whale giveth, the Wild Whale taketh. All Hail the Wild White Whale.”

“All Hail the Wild White Whale,” everyone within earshot repeated, and even Hatfield managed a weak, out-of-breath, “All Hail… White Whale,” before his stretcher arrived.

—–

“11.5, Colored,” proclaimed Baker Bloch. “Most excellent — 3rd best time yet. You can join the winners over in the The White Whale Lounge.”

“Thank you, sir (*eek*). Thank you (*groan*) kindly.”


Colored TV joining the “winners” after being checked out and cleared by the medical staff.

“Next!”

“Hi Male Baker. Do you know my wings are called Dali.”

“Mount the whale, sir,” rushed Baker Bloch, knowing he already had a winning TV character and not desiring random chatter from this *inferior* product, then. “The Wild Whale giveth, the Wild Whale taketh. All Hail the Wild White Whale.”

“All Hail the Wild White Whale,” everyone within earshot repeated. It was over in 2.

Iggy later gave his broken tv head back to Grey Scale Kimball. “A lot of good it did for me,” making GSK nod in agreement.

“Let’s see how far it can roll into the sink.”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0108, Golden Sink^, Maebaleia/Satori^^

no title

It was a momentous day. August 8. Eightyeight. The day I found out Dark Side of the Rainbow couldn’t have been created by Floyd. It was instead created by…

—–

Phillips strolled into the room, interrupting my writing. Fresh from his little house in the small woods tucked away in the tiny corner of town. He bounded toward me; clung on to my leg. I hoisted him up. Stared at his little face, his little eyes. 88 lost its grip on me. I turned back toward Your Mama and Raggy and the god dog at the center of it all. Something submerged, something surfacing, submarine-like. Must get Your Mama a ham submarine when I stop by Baker next week. For she is in Baker now. Probably for good. But I diverge…

—–

Back to your little house you go (!). Now where were we?

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0108, Blue Feather Sea^, Maebaleia/Satori^^

Blue J. 02 (there’s something wrong with my friend)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0108, The Waste^^

Parasol 03

He sat on the throne a long time after he finished. He didn’t want to go back down. April Mae was pissed because *he* was pissed, one of those vicious cycles. But what did he really have besides the narrow boat-plane? She had her clothes, her friends, her furniture, her… paintings. Were they really her paintings? No, they had bought them together. The paintings were his as well. Kind of. Split, I suppose.

But… the scratch. Nay, more than a scratch, a scar. Car scar. She said she just ran into the dune — didn’t see it looming up in front of her when overshooting the cemetery. And why does she have to go out there to the Omega continent to visit her ex so often? She’s got *me* now. I’m the important, *living* one. She has to help protect *me*.

—–

Instead of going downstairs to continue arguing with his wife, Monsieur Gold decides to walk over to his study on the other side of the second floor to check his email account. Eventually, inevitably, he’s draw again to play that game on the laptop he’s so addicted to. We’ve seen it before: Gunn Mobile Home Trailer Park. He plays for about an hour until he’s pretty certain April Mae has simmered down. On his way to the stairs, he pauses to contemplate Monet’s “Woman with a Parasol” at the end of the hallway, one of two versions displayed in the mansion. One for him, one for his wife. Split.


“Oh. Hello dear. Sorry about before.”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0108, Purden/Snowlands^

queens

But instead Buurb finds himself heading left, toward the freebies library at the end of Lost Heaven Road. What to buy today? he considers. Maybe something for Mabel this time.

—–

Yes, more bean stew for Mabel. He loves that stuff. And — Buurb couldn’t resist — a Green Lantern mini-avatar for himself, hehe. He can hear his wife now: “You’re *such* a Sheldon.”

Bill (Wheeler again) couldn’t figure it out. Why would this mysterious Ellen insist on going first and then make such a weak opening move? She counters with her own weird kind of opening: Pawn to Queen 4. Because at this rate she was going to win in 13 moves or less. Anyway, she’d check back tomorrow and see if Ellen had stopped by to play again. Poor girl; maybe not the brightest of us all.

—–

But Bill was wrong about that.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0108, Heartsdale^^, Heterocera^^, Iris^, Nascera^^

spots 02

“Pitch Darkly will be here shortly. As soon as they start talking to Phillip Linden run over there and lay this giant lime on the bar counter close to them. That’s all you have to do. Just wait here.”

“Yes,” affirms Young Duncan, hip to her trip.

“Come on, honey,” says the approaching Osborne Well. We have somewhere else to be now. Should’ve been there about 2 hours ago, blimey.”

—–

“Too late,” states Lou to her father in the Comfrey caverns. “Wheeler must have come fetched The Musician after all. I suppose that’s good, huh? Right daddy?”

Wondering what he’s distracted by, Lou goes over and merges with him, then stares out with same eyes at the manifested creature in the center of the glimmering cave pool.

MOA.

1 Comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0108, Clemscott^, Comfrey, Gaeta V^^