Category Archives: 0313

Yoko had it backwards (stand on head)

Marty was moving across the street, and, in the process, giving away his true former identity as determined reinforced by the Piera.

Who or what is the Piera? That’s a question to be asking. Next…

We can probably start with the Man About Time, since he seems to have created it.

“Yes I did.”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0313, Corsica^^, Urqhart

worship

“It’s called ‘Fathers’, Hucka Doobie, a more interesting one from the Embarras series. And I think pertinent to the current story.”

“Current,” echoes Hucka Doobie beside Baker Bloch, visiting the just reinstalled Red Umbrella gallery in NWES as well.

“On one side, Hucka (he points to the right at a figure more in the distance propped up against a house): Homer, a famous father figure from Cartoonworld. And then the other…”

“Anderson,” spoke Hucka Doobie, looking left at another, larger figure walking down the road while stifling a yawn. “What the *heck* are you going to do when the 2 weeks are up? You’ll have to sleep at work!”

“I’ll manage.”

“I know you will,” Hucka Doobie said, finished with her joke. “You’ll be fine. The *characters* will be fine. Olive Green Pink. Phyllis Phox will finish her novel she’s already read and everything will be okay in the world again. The Corona-V brewskies will fade into the distance. People will set aside their individual realities to join together as one in churches across our fair (Abraham Lincoln) nation. The red book will also be put away in favor of starless black. No Red Star any more. But that’s Storybrook — which, like you know, you’ll be leaving in 2 weeks. What of the other places you need to go now, to complete the story of the elephant continent? So much more…”

“I know, Hucka Doobie. It’s as though I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“You know the danger.”

“Yes, Hucka. I suppose I do.” He turns toward the collage again and away from his closest friend in virtual reality now. “So about ‘Fathers’…”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0313, Jeogeot^^, NWES Island

Hidey, actually

“Hmph. Hidi’s got a privacy screen surrounding her property now. And ban lines. Can’t get in. Doesn’t reply to im’s.” Mary Peppins scratches her chin, then continues to speak to herself while looking eastward. “Guess we’ll have to put up with that eyesore over there a little longer.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0313, Corsica^^, Instabar

Merry Hell

He loved listening to Bing’s Song on the music box. But “White Christmas” was over in Eot and he was melting. He’d have to go back to Kowloon to keep perpetually frosty. He didn’t understand quite why, except that he was *made* there, much like Guy Benjamin’s Grandmama and Grandpapa. He must get lost inside the maze, only to be found when the Heart Queen good and well wanted him to for her traitorous ways. Because she was back at it (some things never change). He could room with Satan Santa again. Safe bet that he’s not living with anyone still, being there’s a Hell Portal right smack in the middle of the kitchen ceiling.

He likes to use it to warm his tush while he’s cleaning the counter.

—–

“Sure you can stay with me again, Frosty.” He points to the corner furthest away from the kitchen. “Park your half melted carcass right over there behind the bathtub.”

—–

“Oh man,” he thought to himself. Stuck in this spot the rest of the winter. Unless the Heart Queen needs me. Sounds pretty good right now.

—-

“Pass the soap, wouldn’t you Frosty?”

“Sure thing, Satan, er, Santa.”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0313, End of Time^^, Kowloon

flashback friday

The Zindra continent has been through a similar (North-South) war, pondered Grey Scale, leaving Chesteria behind for now. I can pattern my strategy after that. There’s even a direct character link between the two. Dixon 01. Or was it Dixon 02? Anyway, both are dead now. Or are they totally alive? One way to find out: visit the old homestead.

—–

“Dixon? Dixon Klancaster?” she shouts back on the ground.

But both Dixons were indeed dead, having been one and the same. Snowwhite Well appears on the landing outside the squatter home, old and withered now. She’s basically turned into maw herself, mother of the two. But formerly: married to the two. It was complicated.

“Whatcha want? Tithes? You a tithe collector? I’ve gaven my fair share last month. Now, run along, tithe collector. Or do I have to sic my *chickens* on you. She turned toward Gander, the largest of the bunch. “Been a while since you’ve tasted human flesh, Gander eh? Fondness grows in absence they say, eh?”

“Listen,” bargained Grey Scale. “I don’t want any of your money.” Not yet, she tacks on for herself. “No I’m here to speak to Dixon.”

“Dixon?”

“The former warrior. The vet of the Trojan-Durexian Wars over on Zindra.”

“God *knows* I know where they were *fought*, foreigner. Everyone around here knows. We all lost peoples.”

“I’m sorry,” backed down Grey Scale. “I didn’t know…”

“Anyway. He’s dead. Dixon. Both of ’em. I married ’em. Shortly after the war. But the bees and their massive beehives got them in the end. Not a bayonet stinger, a *stinger* stinger. Irony perhaps — I’ve heard that word applied here anyhows.” She takes a better look at the grey figure standing proud below her. “You a woman of words, sister?” she inquires. “Maybe you can help me with some words I’m trying to read in a section of this here book. ‘Moby Prick.’ You may have heard of it.”

Grey Scale Kimball was up on the landing faster than a fly on wheels. A chance to analyze her favorite book with someone (!). But she quickly corrected elderly Snowwhite Well on something before entering. “It’s *chapters*, not sections. I should know, having read or attempted to read so many of the latter lately.”

“Fine with me, woman of words. Now — inside before the chickens peck at your tail feathers, hehe.” She swats Grey Scale on the behind and sends her reeling inside.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0313, Horns of Hatton^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Omega^^

Pipersville

“Come on, Preston Weston. It’s time to go into town.”

“Aww, maww. Do I have to? I always get burrs on me passing through that small forest on the the way, heh.”

“Now, now. That cute, little Felicia Mae Appletree might be at the laundromat, hmmm?”

And her *mother*, Preston thinks. Saturdays are *so* cool. He resets his zapper gun to smooch mode. “Okay. You talked me into it.”

—–

“Almost there, Preston,” Your Mama encourages.

“Jeez! Dang burrs.”

—–

I’m just going to pass that place by, Your Mama thinks when stepping onto Brown Street, named for 1/2 of the famed Brown-Bower team of Sinkologists. What put Pipersville on the map!

And those too.

“Jeez, ma. Walk on the sidewalk will ya.” But she didn’t want to get too close to any of those doors over there. Too tempting…

—–

“What happened to the laundromat?” Your Mama asked aloud.

“Creepers ma, I-I don’t know.”

She throws her sack of clothes down in the middle of the road in disgust. “And no water in the sinkhole (as a backup). Damn sinkhole.”

“Maa!” Preston protests, knowing you’re not suppose to cuss that sacred cow ’round these here parts. He scans the area to see if anyone overheard the faux pas. Your Mama cusses again. And again, beginning to stomp on the sack of soiled clothes with all her might. “STINKING SINK HOOOOLLLE!” she hollars in crescendo, then collapses beside the battered sack, crying. Preston goes over and tries to comfort in his own, special way. “Aww maa. Not the tears again. Did, heh, I ever tell you how Antarctica became frozen?”

“Preston, dear, please. Not now.” Not ever, she thought. Because she’d made up her mind. She was leaving.

—–

Spiky-headed Craighead Phillips shut the book. “And that’s how Preston Weston got lost in his dreams, Katy. No tether to reality any longer. The End.”

Tracy Austin (Clown) weighed in. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate book for a child, dear.”

“I disagree,” gruffed Phillips in his whiney voice. “It’s got kids written all over it.”

“One kid.”

“Yeah, dad,” offered Katy, wise beyond her years (but, after all, not a kid at the core). “Couldn’t you, I don’t know, chip in or something. He was *your* son after all.”

“Yes,” spoke Tracy again. “I agree. One of your Options should have been chipping in.”

Phillips sighed, realizing he’d have to go back in time again and switch things around. Damn sinkhole.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0313, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Pipersville/Sink X^, White Horse Village

mossm

Deciding to stay on the same level and not head up or down, Hucka Doobie realizes (Stonethrow’s) all a big code. Newfoundland. Red Door again. Moss.

It starts with Spongeberg in his teepee and ends with Mossman (perhaps Gene Fade, again) and his TOYS.

Open your eyes.

In perhaps related news: They’ve grown!

 

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0313, Rubi^

DJ

http://slnewser.blogspot.com/search/label/Scratchmusikatt%20Sprocket

“Steppiing out off that ridiiculouss tableauu noww my pointt iis maade…”

“I amm *heere* Rosehaveen. You cannot gett rid off me noww.”

“Sea Monsterrs! Twoo evenn.”

“Butt it iis snoow noww. I do nott liike snoow. I will return iin Maarch, yess.”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0313, Rosehaven^^

topmost

As mentioned, Mabel and Buurb loved the 3rd floor of their potential house. A type of heaven for them, I suppose. Buurb could write and Mabel could do art. Their respective passions, besides each other of course. Or this is how they fulfill themselves through each other.

We start at the northernmost window (of 3) looking west…

… then pan out to take in a nearby chest with a smaller container, perhaps a suitcase, on top of it.

This is in the room at the top of the ladder heading up from the 2nd floor. Then below we also peek into the next room. Both contain a variety of what could be called refuge or junk, but the married couple still love the stuff and dare not throw any of it away once the house transaction is complete. Whenever that is.

Mabel often wonders who this melted girl in the portrait is. Could it be her as a child, somehow? At any rate, looking at it always reminds her of her beloved twin brother Little Big for some reason, still off fighting in the Green and White War in some distant part of the galaxy. Last she heard: Aldebaran.

More of the second room; that would be Buurb’s writing desk in the distance, which would double as a place for them to have brunch, tea, etc.

And then we have Mabel herself sitting in the 3rd room. This is projected to be her art studio where she’ll rekindle her love of painting (and drawing). But what to paint remains a big question.

Maybe that perpetually burning fuel tanker down at the gas station seen through the south window here, hmm.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0313, Heartsdale^^

directions

Those weirdos again, Philip Strevor thinks in a dream. Southwest corner table.

A knock at the office door, then. Small but firm. “Daddy?”

Man, school’s out already?

—–

Well at least she was a quiet kid, Philip Strevor consoles himself. Always reading that darn blue book, though. When he asks what it’s about, she just says, “stars,” sometimes, “stars and space.” But never just “space”, oddly. “Stars… and space.”

“Honey, why don’t you play with your new friend Anorexia out back in the alley. Get away from that book for a while.”

“Spica,” she then uttered, still reading. “Did you know that Spica is such a close binary star that each component is egg shaped due to the gravity pull, and cannot be resolved even with the most powerful telescope?”

“No I didn’t know that.” No more oddball star facts from you, missy, he then thought. He had to get these accounting numbers to Casey One Hole by tomorrow morning. And Philip’s sure he’d bug him about them all the time they were playing golf later on today. He always had to let him win, especially on that prized par 3 hole on the back 9 — the origin of his nickname. He learned that the hard way.

The kid relented. “Oh all right,” she said, putting down the book and heading for the door. “I’ll go find my *new friend* Anorexia.”

Good kid, Philip Strevor thinks again. But the crazies are now sitting at a table in the opposite corner of the building. How’d *that* happen? What’s going on?”

Almost the instant the doors shut behind his kid, more knocks, larger but softer. “Dearest?”

Oh God, Philip thinks. My mother. What does *she* want?

—–

“What’s this trash you’re reading, Philip? ‘Celestial Handbook’? I bet it’s a celestial handbook.”

“That *trash* is what you gave your granddaughter 2 Christmas’ back. The one she still can’t put down even now.”

“Oh.” She scrutinized the cover more closely, then drew back. “Well it’s good for her to read. Keeps her out of the alleys. Where is she anyway? Wanisa said it’s your turn to keep her.” Philip feels the noose tightening around his neck. Might as well say “cut here”. Oh wait… it does.

“Mom, I’m *so* busy. Can we talk later?”

“Not until you tell me where Poodles is.” Poodles is (June’s) pet name for her granddaughter.”

“Okay, okay, just to get you off my back. Yes, she’s in the alleyway, but she’s supervised. Her new friend who just happens to be *13* is back there with her.”

“Have you checked? Did you follow her out to make sure her friend met up with her?”

“You should have run smack into Bug before you came in.” Bug was Philip Strevor’s pet name for his daughter. He then thought of the spooky trio that switched corners of the building. “*Did* you run into her?”

His mother disappeared. His wife took her place.

“Philip we need to talk. It’s about Casey One Hole. Yankton.”

—–

He wakes up in his ersatz observatory. “Yankton?”

1 Comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0313, Capitol City^, Gaeta V^^