Category Archives: 0317
in and out
Tronesisia walked to the top of the stairs to confront Peter SoSo full on. “I’m here my love,” she said. “We’re in this together now. Lamb.”
Meanwhile, across the tracks from here…
“It’s time Timmy. My Timmy Time tiny horse.”
“Well she got off to a running start and that’s good.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0005, 0317, Heterocera, Lapara^
upsidaisy
It appeared in VHC City’s underground Muff-Bermingham station on the second to last day of May 2017. The four stars strung above the entrance — red, green, blue, yellow — were a dead giveaway to who dwelt inside. It could only be Spongeberg the Destroyer, similarly bedecked with the same four colored stars. But where was he? The caravan appeared empty.
But suddenly Wheeler was there, walking out the entrance in the most outrageous clown costume yet. Was that Spongeberg attached to her body??
No, it wasn’t. Should we send another avatar over to get the story? Baker Bloch is a logical choice. Maybe The Musician. But, no, here comes The Musician out of the caravan on the heels of Wheeler. He has a clown costume on as well — not quite as extreme as Wheeler’s, but pretty full frontal still. Noises inside. Appears there’s actually a party going on now where before was dead silence. At least 4 clowns within by my counting. One manifests at the door. “Hey Musician, where you going? Your turn to dance.”
The Musician moves closer to Wheeler, saying just above a whisper, “I don’t want to do that.” He’d seen the others. He’d seen *Wheeler*. He didn’t know how she did what she did.
“No choice, Musician,” returns Wheeler in a loud whisper herself, out of earshot of Johnson. “We’ve gone this far. You dance, you’re in the group. Spiffy, Jumbo, Percolator, Stingray, Johnson, and us. This will make my cover complete. You’re here with me now. Allen Martin has gone to a better plane. Go ahead and dance for the guys and gal. All you have to do is be goofy as hell and you’ll be fine. Nothing *serious*.”
“I’m not exactly sure how to do that,” admits The Musician. He was a serious artist. No comedy in his act.
“Think about what you usually do when you dance and do the exact opposite,” suggests Wheeler. “Pretend that there’s an anti-Musician, one who isn’t serious at all. A clown, a buffoon. He’s a walking laugh elicitor. He can’t walk down the street but for people doubling over all around him, rolling on their sides even. Laughs and guffaws, Musician, when they see you. I know you can do it.” She brushes aside his projecting green hair and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “The key is not to think at all,” she says, holding his arm. “Just let go. Let *everything* go. Let the other side take control.”
She grasps his shoulders and turns him around to face the caravan and Johnson. Then she gives him a swift kick up the rear, making the clown at the door clap his hands with glee. He meets the reeling Musician halfway and escorts him up the steps. “Bozo coming through,” Johnson yelps as they enter the caravan to an eruption of cheers.
Wheeler stays outside and listens, letting it soak in. The four stars above the door disappear as the event reaches a tipping point. “Spongeberg has no power here now,” she says to herself. “We move forward.”
Tipping point.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0004, 0317, Heterocera, VHC City^
Entrance
“For the life of me, Old Mabel, I can’t *see it*.”
“I’m saying: turn around please Baker Bloch. You’re looking the wrong way. Look at where *I’m* looking.”
“I *am* Old Mabel. “Nothing is there. Nothing at all.”
“Something is appearing inside,” said Old Mabel, peering down.
—–
“Then I woke up, Baker Bloch. Another dream about the forest. At the tree where Urch disappeared 2 nights before. 125/125.”
“The big eucalyptus tree, yeah. Big enough to hide a man the size of me inside.”
“That tree is a portal.”
“Maybe they all are,” responds Baker. “The eucalyptus, the brown cypress, the green cypress. All along that line. And then Unch himself (or herself) at 168/168. Still haven’t met Unch, er, face to face?”
“No.”
“How about now?” Baker offers. “It’s nighttime after all.”
“You guys aren’t talking about those woods again, are you?” asks Furry Karl, walking up with another Krings beer for Baker Bloch. “I still don’t like that kind of talk in my bar. I’m up here in SoSo Mall because of it. Just to get a *little* further away from those trees. So they can’t listen in. Careful with that wine glass, baby doll,” he then says to Old Mabel. “It’s been Spillsville around here.”
“I will,” she replies, and then looks at Baker Bloch again. A vision of a double headed Winfield flashes through her mind. Fused. Fire. So much fire.
“I suppose you heard Karoz is back,” says Karl, changing the subject. “Back from space. Still doing the bidding of that demon Wheeler.”
“Shhh,” reprimands Baker. “Don’t say that too loud.”
‘What… *demon*?” speaks Karl defiantly. “She’s over on that island of hers now. She can’t hear us. The *woods* might be able to hear us, but she can’t. I think we have bigger problems if people are starting to dream about that place. It’s 1968 all over again. Treestock.”
“You know so much about local history, Karl,” says Baker.
“I do,” responds Karl quickly.
“Someone should interview you,” completes Baker.
“I’ll do it,” volunteers Old Mabel, raising her hand. Baker wonders if she might be a little drunk tonight. She’s not use to drinking wine, but she purposely spurned her usual lemonade, saying she needed to lay off the sweets to see if it was affecting her dreams. Maybe she’s just trying to numb her brain into a good night’s sleep.
“Well, that’s awfully sweet of you deary.”
“I’m *serious*,” she emphasized. “I want to do it. Let’s set up a date now, while we’re talking about it. If we wait it might be too late.”
Baker thinks he sees Old Mabel sway a bit in her seat. “Maybe we better get you home,” he says, standing up.
Old Mabel shakes her head. “I’m not going back home. I’m not laying down on that couch. I’m not *dreaming* tonight. I don’t want to dream. I want to stay awake. Baker, please stay awake with me. Until sunrise. Then everything will be all right. It’s 2 o’clock now. Sunrise in 3, 4 hours. Stay with me. Hold me.” She falls from her stool and softly sprawls out on the floor. “I’m okay,” she declares, but can’t get up.
“Come on Mabel,” says Baker, offering a hand. “Let’s go home.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0317, Heterocera, Rubi^
Sunklands 