Category Archives: 03

December 11, 2023 · 3:21 am

the movement of ONE

Axis shifted the name himself after satisfying his needs at the Lucky, concealing the missing letter. No need to be so obvious about it.

So Marsha “Pink” Krakow changes it back and arrives on same, aiming to do Alice Tart’s will and set things right again. She wore Alice’s “I am a Demo” sweater all along as a constant reminder of her mission in Paper-Soap, the Paper part fully yielded to Soap now, two halves separated out again in the passage through the tunnel. As she stood before the train, the symbolic missing letter now lay beside the track, with the reappearance of Gee Cat naturally coming along with it. Here.

“Can I help you Missi?”

“*Gee*. You *scared* me,” she spoke over to the large, upright orange cat appearing as if from the blue behind her.

“Yes, Gee scared you,” he spoke matter-of-factly in a regular type voice. “Gee the cat,” he announced himself.

“Wait. Your *name* is Gee? Like the letter you’re beside right now. I want to get this clear.”

“Gee is the cat. G is the letter. That is correct all around, then.” Is she the ONE? he thinks here, expecting such any day now. He checks the name on the train. Not yet, then SIGH.

“I’m looking for someone… or something. Greene’s Motel. Maybe it’s the Lucky Motel with a green door in the front office I’m still not sure. Woman with the last name of Tart and maybe a first name of Octavia. That’s all I’ve got. Can you help me? Gee?”

“Gee will help,” and he got to it, entering the station to talk to Wanda Berta Shirley. Make that: Laverne. Fresh from a closed down Barrow County beer factory, dreams of retiring in the bottling business shattered. But most people know her as Ginger.

(to be continued)

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December 10, 2023 · 9:37 pm

00410304 (104)

Couple of battered suitcases left behind but nothing in them as she checked. Clients should be arriving pretty soon; better make herself prettified, as she liked to say. *Remember*, the taller, richer one *doesn’t* like the blue rouge, she reminded herself. And of course that code he goes by to sanctify all this. Oil me up, I suppose.

She’s staking her claim to the room. Daisy Chain can go to hell for all she cares. Pills in her staff meeting breakfast for a knock out punch, BAM! She can work hers and Daisy’s together. She’s not that old yet: only 18 going on 38. Now if she could only remember the year. ’36? ’39? She decided to split the difference and settle on herself. Still before the Axis took control.

Town school superintendent Axis walks through the 104 door, taking control. “Mouse here yet?” He’d checked in his copper red hair at the main desk with Wilma the day clerk — no need for that inside. He could be who he was here. An older, balding man destined for chancellorhood, he felt.

“Not yet,” she answered. Octavia always fancied Axis among her townspeople clientele. Certain a step above, say, a baker, a farmer, a grocery store owner in the swampland. He owns an actual, bona fide *house*. Mouse — that’s the other one’s name: Mouse — might be richer and also have a house but he’s not as devilishly handsome. And the emblazoned cross across his chest he bears helps with this judgment too. Man of God he’s said about himself. Mouse was obviously devoted instead to science; even brought a beaker and test tube along for one of their sessions, and not to decorate the tree in the room, he said. “This time,” — like he was going to bring them again during the holiday season which was in full swing now, hmm. What does he suppose he can test with all *this*. She didn’t like to think about it; didn’t want to ponder the possible weird requests that could come along with such things. Daisy’d warned her about stuff like that. Maybe she was too harsh with the drugs; maybe she couldn’t pull off this 2-n-1 thing she planned today. If it wasn’t Mouse and his eccentricity she figured there was no way it could work.

—-

“I’ll finish up here Mouse; you can go back to your house now,” still-in-control Axis said later on. Octavia needed more than the doctor could provide.

—–

“We’ve gone back and changed time, Marsha,” said Alice, seeing the results, “but now *Axis* is instead my father. Villain of villains!”

“He’s not that bad.”

“I guess you’re telling me *Hitler* wasn’t that bad.”

“He invented the VW Bug — or something,” she attempted to justify, then realized this was wrong, all wrong. And where was her yellow Bug? Still orange? Still in Amiable? She made a note to herself to check. After all this dialog here was worked out.

“We have to go back. Daisy *wasn’t* sick that day in April’s May.”

“I believe that would have to be November’s December, Alice — holiday season and all. The beakers and test tubes on the tree. Remember?”

“I don’t remember *nothing* because it didn’t *happen*. I’ll MAKE it not happen.”

“Again?” Marsha said, staring into the other girl’s eyes who was still wearing the same “I’m not a Demo” sweatshirt as herself, same holey denim jeans.

“Again,” she said back firmly across the gap, closing it for the second time.

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December 9, 2023 · 5:24 pm

super-cape

With her relatively newfound fame, it seems that our Ruby Supergal was always traveling these days, living out of her suitcase as it were. She was on a mission: to spread love and peace and joy throughout the whole of Portugal and maybe even the western parts of Spain, depending on how much she can grow her fame. She felt she was a light of the world, showing the way to a brighter future out of the dimmer past. And the Atlantis revelation was one step along that path, perhaps a pretty important one, up there with any musical decisions she might make.

She let one of the colorful butterflies circling around her shimmy through her outstretched hand, enjoying the sensation.

She knew the butterfly enjoyed it too. Hope, she decided to name it. Hope for the future.

“Soundcheck on the set in 10 minutes!” her manager barked up some nearby stairs. “Goodby Hope and the other 2,” she said as she moved away from them and back into reality.

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December 9, 2023 · 11:30 am

00410302

She put away the guitars and got serious. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she practiced, not having an audience yet. It was only 5 in the afternoon and her gig wasn’t until 8. She’d have to eat first of course; make it a past participle before the actual playing began. At the same time, the audience should begin dining on sole food, that particular fish being the catch of the day here in Portuguese Hill village formerly of Illinois, US of A. Where they found *her*. “Ladies and gentleman, simmer down,” she continued imaging the applause coming her way after the song “Rockaway Beach,” a crowd favorite as usual. “I have an announcement to make.”

—–

“Your painting looks very pretty over there, dearest. I see you haven’t used any green yet. That’s good. Stay away from green. And oil. Stick to watercolors.”

“Of course my dear. Those times are in the past.” She apparently couldn’t see the bit of green he used in the couple of village trees from this distance — good. This made him think of Mr Babyface, his old flame. Lost at sea in a craft of too small design. At least he went doing what he loved. Sucked up by a rare water funnel in that area, they said. Glug glug glug, he imagined. Glug glug glug — GONE. The boat was later thrown up on the shore of Kenfield but the short man with the large face was no longer with it, fishing off the port side, fishing off the starboard side, fishing off the bow, the stern. He loved fishing in all its positions. He’d eat his sole later on in honor of him, he decided.

“Did you like my speech at the end? Too serious?”

Yeah, past and also present lover Greg Ogden had reservations about all that. “Don’t you, I mean, what if a member of the Portuguese navy is part of your audience? Gets back to headquarters, say. You could be in trouble (!).”

“I said what I had to say, though. Atlantis is rising in that part of the Azores. All the locals know it, the *government* knows it. They just want to cover it up, the hierarchy. The locals won’t stand up to them either, at least publicly. *Someone* has to take a stance. Might as well be me. I have a platform.” She briefly indicated the stage behind her. The former cover band cover girl now striking out on her own with strikingly original compositions popping forth right and left, backwards and forward. The announcement fits right in with all that, he realized. Unique, he summarized it in a word. Like a perfectly square pyramid perfectly aligned with the 4 cardinal directions, waiting to be revealed in all its past and also present glory.

“*And* — I think we should announce the news of our re-engagement if you don’t mind; make that public as well. Hand in hand.” She takes his hand from beneath the table, holds it tight. The double announcement was a go.

(to be continued)

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December 8, 2023 · 2:39 am

art

“That doesn’t look much like the landscape out there,” I opined from behind.

“I paint what my cane tells me to. I mean, my *brush* — force of habit there with the mention of cane. I may not need it any longer,” he furthered. “Getting an update from the person who created me. The heck with the other doctors. Dr. White, the last one I interviewed, turned out not to be even (named) White. And maybe not even a rabbit as advertised, pheh. Looked more like a rab*bat* to me. No, I’ve decided to simply replace me… with myself.” He checks his Diamond Rolex watch, dropping some cerulean blue paint on his gray-black Ralph Lauren dress pants in the motion. “Shoot,” he cusses at the stain, but then realizes the pants will be gone soon, along with the body, the skin, the whole kitten kaboodle. “Gotta run,” he says in parting. “Mind finishing this for me?” And grasping his brush while he did the same with his cane, I sat down and went to work. I can do realism, I said to myself as I added more waves to the sea.

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October 9, 2023 · 4:21 pm

00400316

At 11, Ketchup Tom came a knocking at the door. Serenity Lane crept in from the opposite direction while he did, wondering why the punk was here as well. Sleepy Eddie rouses himself, steps over still snoozing Dogg by the bed, answers the door. But there was nobody there. It was all because of what was spoken by Marsha and, er, Bethany, um, Ginger — Mrs. Ordinary — at the tiny cafe just across the Big Channel. Because they were figuring out stuff, enough to cause ghost realities to suddenly rez in, probabilities to come into the light which didn’t exist before. Ketchup and Serenity showing up at Marsha’s door at the same time. They had the same goal in mind was the symbolism. And Eddie was in the middle which was unfortunately in the way. But they didn’t get the chance to tell Eddie since the probable reality evaporated when Mrs. Ordinary paid the expensive bill, rum not being cheap in these here parts. Things like this happen more than you realize, folks. It’s all in the books. Eddie goes back to bed, writing off the knocks as part of a dream. A different kind of sleep, then, he’s in.

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October 9, 2023 · 3:17 pm

great and powerful

When she got back from her trip to the Pleiades which wasn’t the Pleiades, Mrs. Ordinary found everything around her to be mundane, just *blah*. Sand sand sand from north to south in this here Big Sandy she called home, yellow, long and boring. She needed to spice up her life with a bit of extra, like she had while aboard the USS Galaxy, certainly not boring atall, although they had to get through that one giant meteor in the way by boring through it via a lasered out hole. Definitely excitement there!

She put down her boring book about Atlantis, Easter Island and such and rang up neighbor Marsha “Pink” Krakow, seeing if she wanted to get together for some tea, something different for her day. She’d heard of a tiny cafe opening up in Pugwash just across the Big Channel. She checked before she called — open at 7, the website stated. 7:05am now. Just in time for an early breakfast too since she saw they had flapjacks available, her favorite.

Marsha beside her Eddie in bed yawned before answering her cell phone. First thought: Mom has the shingles again and I have to come down and take care of her. But she checked the number before swiping. Unknown, the indicator indicated. Relief. She swiped.

“Hello, Marsha? It’s Bethany, er, Ginger. Listen, just wondering if you wanted to catch an early breakfast at that new place just across the Big Channel. I checked: open at 7. Seats are limited so figured I’d call now to see if you’re up for it.”

Marsha yawned again, glanced over at her Sleeping Beauty comfortably snoozing away, and said, “Sure. Just give me 15 minutes to change and I’ll meet you there.” She needed a friend to talk to as well. Life, Second or not, was getting more and more complicated, what with Ketchup Tom and now Serenity Lane entering the picture in this here section.

—–

“Oh the light’s just beautiful here. Isn’t it beautiful?” Different* from where I live, she ponders, looking up into the sky to see if she can spot the Pleiades before the harsh sun washes all the night time away. No luck.

“Sure thing, er, Ginger.” Was it Ginger? Marsha “Pink” Krakow still wasn’t sure. They had finished their flapjacks, 1 apiece since both were on some kind of diets. Look at her, Marsha was thinking prior to ordering; so trim! But Mrs. Ordinary was thinking the same thing about Marsha. And so the one flapjack apiece, easy on the syrup. Then afterwards, not tea but rum, Mrs. Ordinary decided, which Marsha went along with. Why not? She could sober up on whatever little drunkenness occurred before Eddie even stirs out of his slumber, 12 o’clock being the earliest he rises since his early retirement in March of last year. Lots of money in records management outside the public sector. And he worked for the rock industry, Ozmo Daredevils, Ozzie Osbourne and the like. For the former, he chronicled how “Jackie Pink” turned into “Jackie Blue” in the company blog, which brought him to the attention of curious Marsha wondering about her own “Pink” name and how it came to be. Through it she learned that boys and girls use to be dressed in pink and blue respectively back in the 50s 30s instead of visa versa. And so it began.

(to be continued)

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October 9, 2023 · 5:52 am

from star to shining star

“How far to the Pleiades star constellation formation, Helmsman Pickard?”

“Um, just checking,” replied the red uniformed man to the right, hands all over the controls with much accompanying typing noises. Finally he answered: “About 150 parsecs still, mum.”

Cpt. Extra Ordinary knew that *Earth*, their origin point, was less than 150 parsecs from the Pleiades. She makes a note to replace Pickard with promising jr. officer Lulu U. Hooroo, a black woman from Silver City, New Mexico in the 1950s. She’s certainly capable for the position, plus it will add much needed diversity to the bridge. Not a black, yellow, red, or brown person in sight here, although Helmsman Speck opposite Pickard is half Vulcan. Or so everyone is telling her — she has her doubts still; looks like another white thoroughbred male actor to her from Cookie Cutter California.

Afterwards:

“That was soo much fun! I can’t wait to get to the Pleiades to see what they’ve set up there.”

“Soo… you really think you’re going to the Pleiades, to that distant star constellation formation?” said the woman opposite her, readying to reprise her role as Helmsman Hooroo from the original Star Team series.

“Well, sure. Don’t you?”

“Oh sure, sure. It’s all real. If Dolores Cannon says it’s real then it must be real.”

“Dolores who?”

“The Big Sandy woman. She’s not a channeler after all. She’s a reporter, an investigator. The spirits do not speak through her just *to* her. From various sources, filtered through various human vessels.”

“*We’re* on a vessel,” spoke Mrs. Ordinary, the Extra removed from her name immediately upon exiting the holographic bridge. Yet the unreality lingers. “The USS Galaxy,” she recites. “Class 4a starship, which replaced the class 3b Ararat which replaced the class 2f Cuthand. I know my Star Team stuff. And I knew the distance to the Pleiades. Inept Helmsman Pickard will be replaced the next time we step up on the bridge. *You’ll* be there with me instead. And maybe I’ll keep Speck there, maybe not. Depends on what the blood tests I ordered show up with. If thoroughbred white like I suspect — outta there too. We’ll replace him, yes, with someone Asian, maybe an Indian.”

“Back to the Pleiades,” steered “Hooroo” toward the main problem again, the main sticking point. There was no stage set up for them in the 7 star star constellation formation. Despite what Cannon relayed in Book 1.

I can feel her laughing behind the scenes. I think she may be part of my “council”, perhaps as a counsel.

(to be continued)

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October 7, 2023 · 3:09 pm

X factor

“I’ve decided not to write trash, Eddie, my Edward.”

“Call me Eddie,” he repeated. She never listened. Much like “cousin” Tessa to Edward, the *real* Edward.

So many faux cousin/lover pairings in this novel already, and we’re not even halfway through quite yet. First there was Eddie and Edward, the faux being affixed to the lover part in that case. Then Tessa and Edward, cousin linked with faux in that example. And now supposed cousins Serenity Lane and Shelley Lane (Struthers). Let’s just have Marsha “Pink” Krakow bring up the last pairing to Edward as they’re laying in bed in their 2n1 trailer, wishing to have their cake and eat it too again.

“Edward?” she said after thinking some of these things herself, mirroring the actual author (me) once more.

“Yes?” he relented, not bothering to correct her now.

“As I was saying…”

“Oz. I know. Rock told me all about it. And Gill. What do you call him? Vain and Artery Boyy, right. And the child as well.”

“Toddles,” she said to this. To please a child, she thought.

“All 3 approached me, Rock and Toddles and then Vain and Artery Boyy separate from them. Told me how much they enjoyed the new novel and the switch of genres and how they hoped you keep it up.”

“Oh. Wonderful! I wonder why they didn’t tell me themselves?”

“Probably…” he shifts his weight in the bed, assuming a more upright position, “because you were visiting that large prison complex over in Rockaway Beach. I myself didn’t have time to tell you until now. Had to keep reinforcing to you that it’s all right, and the, ahem, tour will be over soon.”

“Took some time to get from top to bottom, yeah,” she admitted. She got pretty scared about halfway down, even though the internal bowling alley reassured her that TILE was there, even amongst all this negativity. The light shines through.

Eddie, her Edward, was with her after that — called him over. “So. Are you going to go in that direction, go back to Meat City? Or stay here in Big Sandy?”

Was that the ultimate question? Past Broadwater, the grid took over, Utah to Omega link locked in again until it bent away on the other side of town. She saw this now. She *had* to see.

“Let’s give it a couple more posts,” which is probably what I would have said in her shoes. She decided not to bring up that Serenity Lane wasn’t Shelley’s cousin but her ex-lover, her ex-wife in fact. And now since Shelley was out of the picture she apparently has designs on the “replacement”. Drugged back to Meat City against her will!  Prison of all places. She could have spent one day there, she could have spent a lifetime there. Big. Practically Big Sandy big sitting up there wide and long and thick in the sky.

Back to the sand the way she knew how. With Edward.

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October 7, 2023 · 9:25 am

00400312

They played footsies with each other in the parked UFO before Mythos leaned in for a kiss. Suddenly Horace was back. Laughing. “Damn Horace!” he said aloud and then continued in his mind, reverting to the old way of communication. “You almost let me go through with it!”

The Mind Games were over. Back to Meat City. But first…

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