Category Archives: 0204

December 20, 2022 · 8:27 am

sole mates

The bottle was flying all about the table outside but Edward was use to it.

Jem exhaled, looked around. “So this is the fabulous Hotel Adriano in Shamon.” Peter Ladd was born here, or at least conceived here, she thought, his parents like rabbits at the time. Why they’re here.

On his part, Edward, her Eddy, brought her to this place for another reason. They weren’t married, but if Edward had his way they soon would be, powers or no. He felt the ring case in his pocket press hard against his thigh. Had to be the perfect time to reveal. Not now… not with the bottle and all. It was flying faster and faster it seemed, with quirky motions like some kind of bug. Distracting. It’s even threatening his head a bit now.

“Dear,” he finally relented. And pointed.

“Oh, yes. I almost forget it’s there these days. Been a while since I’ve had my powers. Ever since…since…”

“Duck?” Edward Daigle offered.

“Yes,” said Jem, remembering the event. She even lost her ability to walk properly, or at least the others had told her that. She went past the 4th wall.

The bottle vanished before Edward’s eyes but only because she moved it somewhere else. “Good to be back on Jeogeot. I… was made here too. Just like Peter.”

“Peter?” Edward questioned, making Jem realize that Edward didn’t know about all that. Wrong probable reality. Besides, he knew she was made in “Gunpowder” (post) set in Dodgey City in photo-novel 31. She is a product of that town, restated and re-angled at the first of the current photo-novel, 36 in a series. In-between, yes, she was in Towerboro on the Jeogeot continent, and Edward was with her there. But she also made appearances in now defunct Ontario without him. Instead there: John. Definitely *not* a hairstylist or hairstyle. Edward knew that now fer sure.

Time for the present, which turned out to be presents. Edward grasped the ring case in his pocket at the same time Jem grasped the just manifested book in her lap. “I have something for–” they both said in unison, then laughed. “You go…” offered Jem, temporarily releasing the book and getting ready to accept whatever was coming across the table. “No, you,” said Edward back, trying to be more conscious of manners and act like a normal person for her.


He wish he hadn’t. He transformed his own present into a joke about 2 horses who couldn’t finish a race because they turned into rats, the ring remaining deep deep deep in his pocket after the one-eyed book was produced. Still Jem seemed pleased.

(to be continued)

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October 12, 2022 · 6:01 am

Cloz again

“Is that white stick mellowing you out a bit?”

“A bit,” Shelley admitted, but still so anxious. Big wedding coming up. And she’d just escaped being blown to pieces over in the Moray Docks Town! If it wasn’t for George and Debbie over there being so booring…

“Good, good,” returned Wheeler, taking a toke of her own. “You know (pause) he thinks you’re me. Deep down, I mean. Remove the goofy hair –”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. You know what I mean. You need to grow up more yourself to match Liz’s advancing age. She’s 17 the last time I checked, almost legal to be married herself. You’re, what, 23?” Wheeler looked over on the brown couch they both sat upon. The umbrella eyes would come soon. Then she’d be out of her control, automatically know more than herself. To impart wisdom before it happened was important, the locking in. Shelley *was* her. But she didn’t need to know that yet.

“How’s Newt holding up?” Shelley decides to ask. “I heard — he’s also trying to change The Musician to meet the times, get rid of his punk look and all.” Did Shelley approve? She didn’t know yet. That would also come with the locking in.

“Newt’s fine. Listen, daughter of mine, daughter I didn’t know I actually had until that last photo-novel.”

“33 isn’t it?”

“34.”

“Jeez.” Shelley takes another toke, considers the length of the process. Her own story is quite complicated and that’s only one of a multitude, heck, one of a multitude involving Wheeler alone (!).

“Anyway, we need to review. Just like Newt did for The Musician.”

“Crap.” Shelley extinguishes the last of her white stick, preparing to get serious.

(to be continued)

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August 4, 2022 · 6:49 am

00340204

“What are we looking for here, *partner*?”

“You’ll see,” standing Wheeler responded to sitting Baker Blinker. Or should I say, Flip responded to Magika. Because both were Beans in the moment, thanks to their “matching” hair. Wheeler/Flip kept hiding her bad eye to the camera behind a wooden pole of the ruins they were in, what some erroneously deemed brown to pair with a mismatched blue in a classic case of heterochromia. Actually the affliction she suffered from was anisocoria, or an enlarged pupil, making one eye appear darker than the other.

The graveyard across the rushing stream showed no signs of activity. “W-who are we looking for?” asked Baker Blinker again, rephrasing the question from What. “Zappa? I’ve heard that Zappa is around.”

“Maybe,” responded Wheeler. “We’ll see.” She knew the woods were labyrinthine and cryptic for a reason. Labyrinth, eh? That was the first real clue she belonged here, back in Jeogeot and away from Ontario for a spell. Baker Bloch remained asleep and unable to participate. Thus the presence of the Other Baker, perhaps, the female one.

“I want you to think long and hard about the red and the green, Baker Blinker,” said Wheeler Wilson to her side as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, which also switched observing eyes. Time to see in the dark now.

(to be continued)

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May 23, 2022 · 3:31 pm

another police department (Indian and Cowboy)

“So close to public nudity, this Publius Enigma she called herself,” explained deputy Andy Trailer to sheriff R.V. Fife about the lock-up. “Couldn’t take any chances on her accidentally or purposely removing the rest, see.”

Just arrived R.V. looked over at the cell containing the new prisoner, wondering how he could untangle himself and the department from this latest arrest by his oft bungling and misguided sidekick. “I see,” he spoke as neutrally as possible, checking her out. “Looks like some kind of Indian costume,” he bemusedly said of the rest.

“Mayan, she said. The Mayan Marauder, she also called herself. Said she was on the way to Helicon to perform at a private pool party. Sounds like a convenient cover-up, aherm, to me (sniff).”

“Dancer?” R.V. envisioned the rest coming off, like Andy before him, like Opie the town drunk, happily sharing a cell with the costumed woman and giving her the up and down from his bunk at every opportunity.

“Wrestler, actually.”

R.V. looked again. “The pipe came with the, uhem, costume? I’m mean, you surely didn’t let her into my private stash without asking?”

Andy turned a bit red here. “Sorry — it’s just that she said she needed a smoke to calm her nerves, especially before your arrival. We, aherm, didn’t have any cigarettes.” His voice trailed off. He realized he probably did a bad thing in bringing her here. Should have just let her go with a warning. But the name Publius — so close. No, he had to do what he had to do, he justified again in his head.

“And the Red Dragon?” R.V. further interrogated his deputy and not the prisoner. He’d smelled it at the door before he opened it. He figured a new prisoner was awaiting him inside and most likely a woman. Andy only gives favors to the fairer sex.

“Out of Blue Pennant, sorry (again).”

“This is a *mistake*,” R.V. had to say here, but couldn’t help smiling underneath it all. “A *cardinal* mistake — one for the books, my my (shakes head; looks over again). Can you at least put her in the other cell so that Opie can calm down?”

Andy dare not admit he’d given the second jail mattress to his cousin Goofy to sleep on while he’s staying for the weekend from Fort Braggard. “Um, sure R.V.”

“Opie!” Andy barked, walking over. “Give me the mattress. Give it to me now. And stop bobbing your head up and down like that! Leave the woman in peace.”

“Oh *Andy*,” the drunk said, but got up and helped the deputy tote it to the only other cell in the building. Both R.V. and M.M. smiled at the scene, and then caught each other smiling. R.V. rambled over in his unassuming fashion after the cell had been cleared of the others.

“Listen, Miss.”

“Helen, actually,” she said, eyes twinkling as if she knew what would happen, could see into the future.

“Helen, yes. Now I’m sorry about this. If I let you go, uhem, then you have to promise either to put some more clothes on or get out of town as soon as possible. Now you’re not breaking the law as far as I can tell,” and he gave her the up and down again, but without lust in his case — not much, or he tried to put a damper on his beastly side. “But you’re close. Andy was bad to bring you in. He should have let you off with a warning.”

“I see.” The twinkle again. She knew he was caught in her lasso.

(to be continued)

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March 16, 2022 · 6:09 am

00320204

“Perhaps it’s not Alien Island but *Allen* Island.”

“Maybe.”

“Picture this, ahem: Allen Yellow, our “Alien, Yellow” from novel 13, actually got to marry his friend Jennifer he met at Misty MO and now they live here, at this condo tower. The island is named for him — he owns it, or mostly does.”

“Perhaps,” she reinforces, thinking they have other locations to focus on now. They have a name, whether it’s Alien or Allen.

“Maybe he accepts the name Allen — I think he actually does this in 13. He dons a helmet that has an extra pair of eyes and which makes him look like a frog, a big yellow frog.” He turns to look in *her* eyes, trying to determine a color. Green? Blue? They could argue about it all night and then wake up the next morning and start over again. She better take it from here…

“Do you love me still, Allen the yellow alien? My Alien, Yellow (snicker)?”

He couldn’t hear anything in that helmet but she knew he did.

—–

He tried not to look in her eyes, knowing the paradox lie there, the stuff of irreality. Instead he focused on the mission.

“What,” he starts, “does he know?”

“He swallowed the frog to Prince story hook line and sinker,” Jennifer M. Friend stated proudly. They were hiding out behind the office, away from prying eyes down at the beach, Allen’s included. He was busy with the book she recommended. A tome about Prince Isles formerly Frog Isles. And without any frogs atall, apparently. They vanished overnight! How could it be?

“He thinks,” speaks Dickie Doom playing the part of Archibald now, “the helmet is needed?”

“He’s worried he’s going to lose his frog-like nature as well. So he wears it all the time now to keep an eye on it. I sometimes turn down the volume on his ‘ears’, just so I can speak to him without him knowing, a kind of sounding board — bounce ideas off of him that he doesn’t need to know about or understand.”

Dickie Doom/Archibald doesn’t respond any more since his allotted 10 words are up. We’ll see if he has anything to add to this in the next post (checking).

No. He doesn’t.

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January 13, 2022 · 10:18 am

00310204 (Boy Wonder)

I wanted to stay in Dennis but the (Tisbury) cat lured me down the sidewalk, down and away from where I was suppose to be. “Psst, over here,” he or she seemed to say (in retrospect).

“Here, come here. Come closer. There. You’re here.” Indeed, I seemed welcomed.

Hmm, left the outside faucet running but it didn’t set off any alarms in my head. I’m soo blind without Hucka (!).

“No thanks, I already have one,” I said to the greeter in the front hall, a nice enough bloak. Too bad about the facial wounds for the fellow; maybe holds him back in life and keeps him here. As a servant at the door. “A smoke, I mean. Here. In my hand.” He presents his spliff possessed appendage for the cigar offering greeter as an explanation.

He’s back to old habits. Front and center with his back to us. Ahh, the old Baker. Azure Island days. Let’s get him in a comfy place to think about what’s he’s done and where he’s heading.

Ahh, this is the life, he ruminates. Smoking a spliff while relaxing in a stranger’s home. What could go wrong?

He looks around remotely.

Oldbie, hmm. ‘Nother one. And a prisoner: 031302. So close! This is 00310204. But: point made (?).

Let’s look around some more…

I wonder what could be coming up in post 00310302?

And that was more cats. Holding green and yellow balls. I wonder what would happen if you switched them around?

I think that’s it, the primary message for tonight. I’m officially an Oldbie. I wonder if I’ve been initiated into some kind of club?

—–

Ahh, been there done that.

I feel like someone should be there. In that bed beside the books and drugs and under the stars. Someone just as high as me. Someone just as *old* as me. Hucka, I realized. She never left.

Stand.

But how does he get over there?

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November 14, 2021 · 10:20 am

Ten

He gets close enough to where he can’t miss.

—–

“Aw mann.”

“No mann’s from you, young’n,” replies Duncan Avocado to the boy’s protest. “You’ve got to go back to Aunt Clare for a spell. Just until I can figure out a plot to this here photo-novel.”

“But… you’re such a good cook!” George thinks back to the ice. And snow. The crunching. He could lose a tooth this time. ‘Nother one!

“Remember to pack some extra coats. November now. On the other side of the chasm schism, there’s Tennessee. Perpetual snow.

“I *hate* snow!” Certainly sounds like a boy of 10 now. Unless he’s 13. We’ll get to a picture in a moment to properly see and deduce.

“Besides,” Duncan attempts to rationalize. “Your Aunt Clare needs you — she gets lonely, out in those granite hills.

“I’ll have to get some shoes,” George continues to complain. “I *hate* shoes.”

“Now, now,” Duncan tries to calm. “Most boys don’t have your luck in the first place to move to warm climates when they choose. Scratchy just happens to be as far south on this continent as you can get. It’s warmer than everywhere else. You’ll return soon enough. Think of Clare — think of *others*.”

“I *hate* thinking of others.” Duncan gives up. There’ll be tomorrow for more coaxing; maybe the boy will age by then.

(to be continued)

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October 1, 2021 · 8:11 am

fused

Accompanied by the music of Certain Death playing on the turntable, an old, religious man reads slightly pornographic manga well into the night. Did it in Kowloon where he came from, doing it here. Nothing wrong.

In another part of Horns, Jacob’s I awakes from the dead, as it were, and rolls his stiffened neck. “Ugggh. Where *am* I?”

Kick-ass Bogota’s long vigil is over. He can rejoin his brother Boos, wherever he is at the moment, probably Red’s Diner.

Yes: Red’s.

Bigfoot is a hot topic tonight. A giant spool has now been rolled onto an artist’s location and made into a firepit. Staring into the flames one last time, Kick-ass takes his leave before Jacob I. realizes who he is.

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August 20, 2021 · 8:26 am

Pears of Wisdom (take my knife… please (Bigfoot))

“I’m going to be the first person on Mars!”

“Do you know of the Boos, then?”

“The *what*?”

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June 25, 2021 · 8:06 am

so many there to meet

He’d edged into the tall beach grass before he found the shell of his dreams, but it seemed to instead belong to a giant bird of some kind, perhaps an owl.

“I want that shell!” I thought to this owl creature, who I knew could hear in his head like me. “No way!” he thought back. “Mine!”.

He guarded it like an egg, this Probably Owl whose colors matched that of the beach and its many, realistic looking rocks — like camouflage. I asked his name, adding “sir” at the end. “Really?” came the reply. Really. I wondered if this was an owl atall, or at least a male one.

—–

Meanwhile:

The music was close now but it wasn’t coming from this busker, although his playing was perfectly blending into theirs. “Kicked out,” he explained while still strumming. “4th not needed.” Ahh, Jon Deere hates 4ths. Jon Deere must control the band, wherever they are. Must be just around the corner. Was this blues? Mysteriously, she couldn’t tell; psychedelia mixed in, like blue strongly tinged with green, as in this badge decorated Sheriff’s outfit. 420, she realized. Jon’s favorite number. “4:20,” the guitarist before her recited aloud, mirroring what was present in her mind. How?? Just like Kolya, she then realized. We are one here in this town that may become a city that may become a megalopolis, given time. And now she had that too. She didn’t ask the time but she received it anyway.

(to be continued)

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