Category Archives: 0204
The next night found him walking again, still looking for that perfect house. Saffie had snatched the only decent one rental baron Snowmanster had available at the time. Marty felt he was snubbed; that Snowmanster didn’t like the looks of him for some reason. He’d given her a nice painting of her husband, all for nothing it appeared. The short meeting was adjourned. At least he got a date with Saffie out of it. Maybe the whole problem could be solved with…
No, he couldn’t go in that direction quite yet. After all, he was still technically married to Linda. The lush. And he was still sort of dating Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child, if she’s still alive. And then there’s Audrey — on and on it goes, actually. Hucka Doobie: another one. He needs to phone her up. Marty makes a mental note to look up the number again; he thinks he added it to his long contact list but wasn’t sure. What was that bar they went to way up in the air above Urqhart? The place of perpetual rain: Fireman’s? Wasn’t sure.
He reached the center of the 4096 Illuminati property. He stopped walking. The elevation was 2000 meters. He looked up and noticed red had replaced green in the most central banner. But not another apple this time despite the still appropriate color. Another skull instead. This place was a land of the dead. He’d literally reached a dead end.
Sipping green-ish lemonade still — probably a limeade, then, wouldn’t you think? — he decided to head back to the green apple banner marking the beginning point when the voices started. A murmur at first, then clearing. He picked out the repeating sentence amongst the babble. “You have something that we want.” Over and over and over it went until the voices unified in a deafening crescendo.
He woke with a start. “Godchild” Lisa the Vegetarian was still onstage, talking about the limitations of the capitalist system through something called debt paradox. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep. But Saffie beside him seemed enthralled — she was literally on the edge of her seat listening in. She could teach him like Linda taught him about vegetarianism. And Lisa of course could aid in his understanding about the economic end times to come as well. If we, as a world, only stopped eating at least *red* meat then part of the problem would just go away. Just like that (he imagines snapping his fingers). Stupid Earth, pheh. He sits up and becomes one with Saffie again in the viewing.
What happened in Room 03? she pondered while looking down at it. Did Jane kill hubby Ben Wolf just because he called her — *Plain*? Where’s Olive, I mean, June now? After the separation. The hills look lovely over there. I wish I could go hiking in them. My suit is too big for my torso.
She ends her reverie and turns in the old church with the high spires with the crows.
“Linda Halsey, yes,” Mid-Hazel spouts with her ancient, crackly voice while checking. “We lost track of you at Jim’s Bar. The bomb was dropped, true enough. How did you manage to get out? We know about the others. Please reveal.”
Heavily suited Linda Halsey stood her ground. She knew she was just a pawn in a bigger game that expanded across the galaxy, nay, the *universe*. And in the middle… well, a…
“Don’t say it again, Hucka Doobie.”
“*We* — just did.”
“The peaks giveth and the peaks taketh away,” recites golden being Rhiannon after the transformation of Linda Halsey back to Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child on the Urqhart Hill behind them, topped with circling rocks. “You always serve them now, just like you did before. Now use your transformation wisely my child. My Love Peace Hippie Child.” She smiled over at the standing, barefoot woman from her log, a kind gesture but with slight overtones of sinister. Rhiannon knew there was a good chance this would not turn out well — again.
Cathy L.P.H.C. glanced back at the hill where it all happened.
Later that night, a special tree came over to Urqhart to see what all the commotion over here was about. Ball parks? Out in the middle of nowhere? He/she had to see for him/herself!
He looked out the window at the red light just in the bay. “Everyone knows your bar here is basically the center of Bena, Ben. Ha! Even your name begins Bena — hadn’t thought of that.”
Ben Wolf’s thought of it. “Nice of you to say.”
“Nice in the day here — with no one around,” returns Barry X. Vampire, the X added only this morning after his first beer. He explained to Ben that he’s keeping the Vampire last name, even though he’s giving up vampiring [sic?]. The “X”, then, refers to his *ex* vampire status. But keeping the Vampire last name might be handy if he ran into one of those nasty nests, like he use to be a part of when Bena was plain ol’ ugly Bennington. He turned to Ben at the time. “Remember those days?”
Ben Wolf remembered those days. Still the town starting with his name. Of course he remembers. He ran the show even more back then.
“Where will you go?” asked Ben back in the present, wishing Barry would not cover the tip jar with his arm. Oh well — no one here right now to tip; Barry certainly never does. All the vampires are nighty night during the day. Except for Barry, because he’s an ex and all. As of yesterday. Sold his coffin to some goofy joe named Pitch Darkly. Gotta place just in back of the cemetery now. Ben makes a mental note to walk back there sometime soon and check it out. Close to the Mother Place. Maybe too close.
“Thought you might help me with that, Ben,” answers Barry to Ben’s present question. “I like Corsica. I want to stay with the peaks and all. Like, you know, Mother’s Place is perched upon. He pivots in what he thinks is the correct direction toward the pivotal house.
“I told you not to mention that place in here. It gets the vampires all excited.” Then Ben, again, realizes it’s day. “Okay, okay, I suppose this *one* time it’s okay to talk about the Great Mother.”
“And peaks in general.”
(to be continued?)
I visited the old quarry first this night time trek. It was snowing harder here. It was always snowing harder in the quarry. A large dragonfly dipped down from the flake filled sky and hovered before my eyes. Dragonflies in snow. More mysteries.
Meanwhile in Sansara’s Snowlands, Herbert Gold was checking out the location of his newly set up house/mansion over there. “Piano,” he declared, sitting down at it. “Just like Baker Bloch said it was.” He played a tune he thought would cheer him up. *Not* a Booger Hayes piece. He’d learned his lesson on that.
The aberrant notes hid underneath the upstairs sink, biding their time.
“Soo,” Chesteria A. Arthur began again, trying to get to the bottom of things. “You and Marcus have been a secret gay couple all along.”
“That’s right, Chesteria.” Chicken Itza turns to Marcus. “Pucker up again, lover boy. We’ll prove it.”
Chesteria waves it off. “No, I think I’ve seen enough of *that* type of proof. I need more.”
“I mean, I have my art…” Marcus states rather weakly, waving his arm around the house. “All these… men. Why do you–” but he stops himself here, understanding he was giving himself away more than defending himself.
“*Exactly* what someone *straight* would do to ingratiate themselves with the community,” reveals Chesteria A. Arthur. “*Our* community.”
“I mean,” Marcus begins again. “Really–” he sputters.
“Please don’t say that we’re the only lesbian couple in (Regaltown). Please don’t go down that path again. We have the approval of the council to be here.”
“But–,” Marcus speaks haltingly again. “*Your* lover — Gray Scale Kimball — *is* the council. Her and Pat.”
“And Pat doesn’t count,” Chicken Itza quickly points out. “Since he or she’s bisexual.”
“Hrmph. All this is sidestepping the actual topic. We’re *gay*, get it. *You’re* — you two guys — *aren’t*. Potentially — still haven’t quite figured it out.”
“The art,” Marcus almost whispers, waving his arm around again.
“The kissing,” Chicken Itza emphasizes, and then leans over and gives Marcus another peck on the lips, making Marcus feign another small smile. “So pleasant,” he says, licking his lips a little for emphasis while Chesteria stares at him. He then leans toward Chicken and pecks him on the lips as well, having some trouble maneuvering around the hood on his head.
“*Alright*,” Chesteria pronounces, tired of the accing. “You’re *gay*. Okay, I won’t tell Grey Scale about this. You know how she’s like.”
Marcus and Chicken couldn’t decide whether to jointly say “thank you,” or keep on defending their faux homosexuality by saying nothing. Glancing nervously at each other, they chose the latter. Keep playing it safe, they thought in harmony. This was all so new to them.