Category Archives: 0111

Jem and… Jim?

“I’m only talking to you through this wall this time. *John*.”

“You know I’m not John. I’m Jim.”

“I bought that *before*. Not now. (longer pause) *John*.”

“Okay, okay,” he relented while still dancing up a storm. Hadn’t rained in Ontario since last Tuesday’s Wednesday. He’s trying to chip in, help out the town where he can. Week before last it was portraitures for the poor, however worthless that was. Then the week before that: free bungee jumps for babies down at the gorge. Rope and elastic was a speciality, but he had many of those. He could compose music too. This was his song he was dancing to. “Rat Infested Jim,” the first single from his critically panned but nevertheless cult hit psychedelic heavy metal album “Alice in Suds”. It’s about a man who turns into a rodent and eats insulation in the walls of houses, focusing on the hottest summer and coldest winter days. The title song and next released single from the album is about a woman who can’t find a towel because of all the bubbles produced from her bath, eventually going blind as a result.

“You know why I’m here.”

Dancing stays steady. “The duck. You think I know where the duck is.”

“Right. Welll?”

“Did you look high? Did you look *while* you’re high? Preferably high as a kite in the hands of an experienced Benjamin Franklin. Like *me*, hehe.”

“Stop the nonsense,” Jem plainly stated, taking a swig of her Stygian to mask another oral fixation. “You know I don’t do that stuff any more. Besides, I don’t have the energy now.” She pivots, peers at him through the opening in the chalkboard bar.

“Like I told you before, I don’t have much time. Not much (sniff), time at all (sniff sniff wipe-nose sniff). Help mee,” she squeaked, desperation in her voice and facial expressions. She wipes her face of tears with her arm, sniffs again, sniffs some more, wipes some more, looks off in the distance all moist eyed and mascara stained.

John took pity on her. He didn’t stop dancing but he was formulating a plan. He knew she met the duck the first time when she was high but that wouldn’t work any longer. They’d have to use the wegee board.

The rain starts. The dance stops. Now on to the next good deed.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0111, Wendy-Ontario

00330111

“It was the only place I felt really safe in all of Dodgey City: Charlotte’s dust filled attic with the telescope that she often pointed to the Moon, Mars and other heavenly bodies to also escape the stardust glitter all around.”

“Stardust,” said the doctor, now a therapist. “Interesting term. Can you elaborate further?”

—–

“They made… *cartoons* out of me. It was awful.” The sobbing began again. The doctor-therapist offered her another kleenex from the second box used today. “They thought it was *funny* (sob sob sob, blow nose, sob sob, sniff).”

“There there,” said the dr.-therapist. “Take your time.”

“I — (sniff sniff) don’t *want* to go back.”

“No one’s sending you back, Jem. Take your time,” she or he emphasized again. Probably a she… because of the nature of the events that took place there.

“Those cartoons you spoke about,” she started carefully once more. “Did you…”

“*NO*,” stated Jem firmly, guessing what the doctor-therapist was going to ask, an almost prescient moment. And perhaps it was.

The doctor-therapist decided not to bring John L. Brown of the Browns into the picture today. She looks up at the clock, pretends the session is over even though it is 12 till the hour. “That better be it for today. You can take that box home with you.”

“Thank you,” BLOOWWW.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0111, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Towerboro, Wild West

symbol gets literal

“Well? How do you li–?” (*smooch*)

She figured she didn’t have time to waste, plus this is perfect. How did he set this all *up*??

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0111, Frog Isles, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Yd Island^

00310112 (left leaning)

“Good to see you again, Ruby.”

“Good to see you, Baker B.”

“I — didn’t expect to see you here. But, then again, I don’t expect to see anyone anywhere anytime.”

“Surprises, I know. All around.”

“Yes.”

“What do you wish to know tonight? To close.”

“Thank you. How about Nautilus to start. It seems super important still.”

YES… MAYBE… NO.

“Interesting, and how about Iowa?”

YES, YES, YES.

“How about that, Ruby. Iowa.”

“Yes.”

“And the transition from Nautilus to Iowa?”

YES.

“How will this take place?”

The planchette moves to the center of the board. Stops. Circles a bit. Stops. Circles a little. Stops.

“Center, then?”

Circles a bit. Stops.

“Is this Fife?”

“I’m picking up something about automatic writing,” interjects Ruby at this point. “Someone is drawing something.”

“Okay. I maybe see where this is going.”

“A *spirit*, yes. Summoned by a *witch*.”

“That’s you!” Baker Bloch exclaimed, then saw it manifest beside them.

“Inter-resting,” spoke Ruby to end.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0111, 0112, Iowa, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

clean and filthy (reinforcing points (red shoes))

Earlier:

“Thanks for letting me go first, Wheeler. I appreciate it.”

“Outta my way, BLEHHHH. Sorry!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0111, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

Scratchy 02

“What does it mean, W?”

“You’re such a funny person, asking so many questions.”

“Stairway to Heaven, I’m guessing. End of Up(pelin).”

“So many…”

——

Anyway, this was Heaven, White as.

Better get back to George.

—–

*There* it is (!)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0111, Cassandra City^, Jeogeot, Maebaleia/Satori, Sunklands^

VHC City (opposite sides of 1 wall (it’s a girl!))

It’s often not what’s directly on the Diagonal but what you see from it. I’ll keep that in mind.

And there are definitely apples involved here.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0111, Heterocera, VHC City^

end of Violin

Sugar McDermitt should have seen it coming. In fact, he did. “Those *kids* are up to something over there,” he mutters to himself, standing outside the soon-to-be destroyed Lost Boys Bar and Grilling. “They keep glancing over here and snickering. Damn kids,” he cussed, sorry he had 11 of his own. He doesn’t even give them names any longer, just numbers, starting with Ten. “Ten come here and polish my boots; Ten come here and wash the dishes for your old man.” That kind of thing. He and the current missues (a number herself by now — five) told the prying neighbors who watched him toil and sweat away the day, unable to play with their own kids because of constant work, that he was named for an Aunt Tinny. But really it was just pure laziness and convenience. “Albert!” loudly insisted wife #4 before she ran away to join a circus for clowns. But then the 5th that soon followed on her heels didn’t care — preferred numbers for better tracking and convinced Sugar of the same. “Why don’t we just smack a bar code on their rears and keep up with them that way,” she suggested one day in early May after 2 breakfast daiquiris and 2 brunch tequilas. Prisoners, then, they really were. Number Eight (formerly Jack) would soon have his revenge. He had a robot friend whose father Claude Sit-on was an expert in building demolitions.

Meanwhile at the playground:

“By the time I get to the bottom of this slide,” spoke the friend Claude Jr., golden hued like the playground equipment he perched at the top of, set to go, “something will happen. Ready? One, two, and sliiiiiiiiddde”. BOOOMM!!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0111, Paper Soap, Soap

cross purposes

He should still be hopping mad but he couldn’t help cave in to his emotions.

“I love you, my little Sapphire, and I always will. No matter how many bong hits you take, no matter how many hitchhikers you pick up on the side of the road and then take to the nearest motel to make uninhibited love.”

“Oh dad,” she complained again. “You’re *soo* behind the times. But — I love you too.” She kisses him on the cheek and promises not to solicit any more wanderers of the highway until at least she’s set up at the motel.

—–

My twin sister, thought a white woman nearby. Didn’t even come to the airport to see me off. Busy with her *Social Circle*. White supremacists, pheh. Might have well be dressed as white rats for a Nazi lab experiment going way too right for them, cheese nabbed every time. Well she wasn’t biting. And she’d met a man while here, one who prefers to go simply by L.A. Doris can know *nothing more* of him, she understands that now. But they’ll keep in touch.

The bearded man reading an ancient book of spells sees and hears everything.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0111, Nautilus, Upper Austra^

00260111

The *phone*, sir. Put the phone in the box.” Customs officer Wanda Raphael glanced over at fellow officer Wendell Sampson, having seen it all now. It was as if it was glued to his head.

“No no no, it has to be *lime*,” he insisted to the other party on the line. We’d seen him before, blue as FLY. Which he does, airplane or not. It was a moment frozen in time.

“Who is the pilot in this confusing story?” asked W, manifesting by my side. “Is it Tickie — is that his name? The blue fellow, perhaps the blue meanie?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly back. “There’s the problem of JOVIAL to deal with.”

“*Jeffrey Phillips*,” she exclaimed, remembering the Santa of the same disposition back in that other curiously resonant post. “He’s returned!”

“Maybe.”

“Who is the true ruler of Collagesity now?”

I let the question hang in the air like oxygen. I breathed deeply, taking it all in then exhaling. Calm the hell down, I remembered. I did recall that.

—–

Ship in the sky, plane in the air. I had that as well.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0111, Lower Austra^, Nautilus