Jem says go again. Eddy says no again. But they do (again).
Eddy doesn’t make it this time, unless its Jem. Both, neither. Wheeeeee!
“Look out for that rock, Jem!!!” Eddy calls. “Look out for that!!!…”
(to be continued)
Girl of his dreams: blown to smithereens by the Triggerfish atomics, making them so so happy if no one else. And he’d only been gone three
minutes days! He never bought her that beautiful red rose — flower stand also vaporized in the bombing. He never told her he loved her, or at least liked her a whole whole lot. She never got to travel with him to the Wild West of Nautilus, where the best fishing is, where he constantly visits and leaves her with other companions, the butchers, bakers and candlestick makers of the world, opportunists all. The void will likely never be filled, he feels. Not fills.
Still twirling, Bob Jr. Jr. thinks from his snapping position again, but it’s just a helicopter now and not Shelley, part of the town’s recovery efforts. We were saved by the graces of the Gods! Wonder where the whirling girl of his dreams went after she left me that awful awful morning after that wonderful wonderful night? Must keep in contact with her. Despite the trauma.
“Will you look at him over there, still snapping away like nothing had happened, like the town was the same as before, all picturesque and stuff.”
“Hey, how did *we* escape the blast?” But then Al remembered going back to Luther’s place that night which was just out of the fallout range. Like Bob Jr. Jr. and Shelley, they were saved by love or at least a whole whole lot of like.
“Another 3 eyed one,” states Luther, reeling in his bite.
“Get use to it,” responds Al.
He sat in that hard-to-find, tucked away cafe in Ontario, sipping his coffee and waiting for the morning fog to clear so he can safely explore more of the city. Perhaps it never will this time, story finished for now (again).
Meanwhile, over in Jeogeot…
… clear as a bell.
Let’s begin with the manor.
“It was the black nun again,” relayed Fisher Rig about his dream. “Or… black… something else.”
“Lady in mourning?” D’Eddy (Daigle, Eddy) guessed correctly.
“Maybe,” Fisher said back. “Could have been evening.” D’Eddy had to chuckle. Poor, dim Fisher Rig. But he knew he was right.
“She bowed,” Fisher then said. “I was in my prison outfit. I was chained to the couch or bed or whatever I was laying on. I felt… exposed.”
“Go into that more,” requested D’Eddy. They had nothing else to talk about, since both were incarcerated because of the break-in. But that Poop Pool file was gone, much to D’Eddy’s relief. Probably worth it, then. 5 more days and they’re out. Ever-running neighbor Tommy Abbott promised to stop long enough to feed his cat Smiley and his goldfish Mister Mischief.
“She had that cross over her head from my angel.”
“Angle,” D’Eddy corrected again. “Go on.”
“I didn’t see the (backing) Abbot until later.”
Abbot, D’Eddy ponders here. Like my neighbor. “Spell ‘Abbot’,” he requested, and Fisher Rig did… with the two “t”s. Could have been Fisher’s dimwittedness showing up again but maybe not. He was trying to put the pieces of the dream together to make a whole, just like I’m doing with Nautilus in the overall world I live in, real or virtual. Enzor (sim) here represents the latest part of the puzzle, somewhere between Lips or One Pink and Helicon. In fact…
“I’m going in there Fisher. Do you see me?”
Turning, the lady answers instead. Just as I suspected. Helen (in disguise). On her way between the two still. But what is she mourning? Maybe it just means morning after all. Dawn breaks outside. The monkeys behind me, male and female, start to chatter in excitement. Sun is coming, they seem to indicate with their whooping and hollering. Darkness over!
“Darkness overrr,” the voodoo skeleton creature hissed beside me, light coming into his eyes.
On her break, she liked to come to this park in the middle of it all to read her latest red book, this Lorsters Worst lady of the night. No sex in the book, since she needed to get away from all that which surrounded her like stardust glitter. Here: good solid plants. Earth. Grounded, she was. But break’s about over and the man with the big blue RAM truck with the souped up engine she didn’t quite understand the workings of had just killed his current adversary, the one who kidnapped his Damsel in Distress who was the same as his wife. These were no swingers. Really. That phony lifestyle got them in trouble but there was no sex involved in their interactions with the Charlotte club. Why would he allow that? she thinks for the character, the retired policeman who was now a private dick. That would be his, ahem, *unit* thinking for him, which needed to remain private.
I think back to when I met the guy, in a Cassandra City establishment called Big Dick’s Halfway Inn.
He sat in relative darkness in the corner of the lobby, waiting for me it seemed. Probably was. I was an older man at the time, which means the same age as currently down to the month, day, minute. I asked him if he was the name on the establishment. He scooted forward, removed his crossed hands and revealed himself, said he was that in the flesh. I turned away, having seen enough. Biff Carter was his name. I remember that clearly. I also recall the hotel was full that evening, and I ended up sleeping in the chair opposite him in the lobby. He removed himself sometime — I don’t recollect when. Gabby (clerk) returned about midnight from his looong long lunch break, as he called it (another break!), woke me up, and after gabbing quite a bit about unrelated topics said I couldn’t stay here. Then he recognized me from the band — we were playing at Shenanigans at the time — and changed his mind, said it was okay instead. He later wrote me, after I had acquired much greater fame and also fortune, that he regretted that night with all his soul. Should have kicked someone out and given you their room, he said, but still didn’t say who.
Actually, now I’m recalling an earlier incarnation, involving another red door ta boot. Wendell “Biff” Carter yes. Just retired from the police force, check (after the Oakley Annie debacle: see case-file 37-QZ). Returned to the force briefly when former fellow cop Philburt got sick on pill, but the debacle that caused him trouble in the first place resurfaced in an unexpected guise (Orkley Andy: see follow-up case-file 38-AP). It was as if he was circling back on himself in an endless loop. He needed to break out. Buying half of a small hotel in the Queen City of the South seemed a recipe for success. But then came the swingers.
Could have been recently deceased Jer Ronamy from Starfish Lake Gabby wanted to kick out but I’m not entirely sure. Have to check the old hotel registers sometime if possible.
(to be continued)
“See this snack here, Tabitha? That’s the one that’s going to kill Mommy in about 10 years.”
Yeah I’m about ready to whack a noob. Hurry up there Next Door Boy. I need to make my money back from this machine!
If only I hadn’t hit that machine so hard with my fist, also thought Ted upstairs. Now I can’t have children.
“Sorry Iris!” he said to a passing, oblivious woman.
Nearby Douglas was nailing a machine more successfully. He was in better shape. He’d successfully live into his 50s. Until a steady diet of cherry squirt soda did him in.
“I love you, Dimmy. I really do (*smooch*).”
I’ve got to get back to the station now, he thought, wiping the pink from his lips. Can’t let Wanda see he’s been kissed (!).
Gene was a family name, not a proper first name in the Occident style of things. His father, Daffy, was a seller of fine clothing over at the mall, and expected Dimmy to follow in his tracks. But Dimmy wasn’t doing well in school. Daffy decided to hire a private tutor with his hard earned money, but unwisely selected Marilyn. Marilyn hated Wanda. Marilyn would do anything to get back at Wanda for what she did to her in the 5th grade. Marilyn soon had dim Dimmy wrapped around her little finger. Marilyn kissed. Dimmy wiped, realizing what he’s gotten himself into. A pickle!
She was pounding her nightstick menacingly into her left hand, sitting, waiting. “You were *suppose* to be here at *four* to *pick* *me* up*. Where have you *been*??”
“I don’t know.” He tried to think of a better line but couldn’t. Dim, as stated.
“Tattoo,” is what she said back. I thought about this. Arm? Back? Other place? “Where?” I ventured. She just stared with those almond eyes, same as mine. We looked into each other.
“We will have this spot where we can talk to each other,” I decided aloud for both me and her. As one.
Who are we with? I thought next. Axis-Windmill seems the logical choice, default even. I thought I saw little Alysha shaking her head back at me but I might have imagined it. One mind…
“It’s a beautiful land, Mr. Koala.” Kolya didn’t correct his name for Mr. Lemon. Now he wasn’t sure if it *was* Kolya. Koala (Koyala) sounds good too. “You should talk to your owner about moving here — if the price is right. We, the residents of this place, would certainly welcome you. Open arms!”
“I think…” he started, “my owner… wants to stay between the two roads.”
“13 and 14, yes. M and N. Makes sense.” Lemon’s eyes start watering. He soo wanted the stranger to… take his place. This *man*.
Pear swinging in the hammock nearby in this treehouse in disguise chimed in. “Wizard,” he said in a voice pitched higher than the rest, even Lemon. “This man is a wizard.” It was as if he were reading his partner and friend Lemon’s mind. And so it is.
“The birds will decide,” declared Lemon back into Pear’s own mind without saying it aloud this time. “As they always do.”
Kolya went to the balcony, attracted by the sound of a passing eagle. It seemed to say his name (but which one?).
“He can do it he can do it he CAN… do it,” opined Pied Flycather to friend Yellow Crowned Gonolek down below, who wasn’t so sure.
More opinions will come.
(to be continued)