Category Archives: 0416

bar downstairs

Jeffrie Phillips had come to the end of the book. Arthur Kill eyed him keenly from the piano which he had no ability to play. His music was death. Death to Big Black Smoke, death to Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child, death to perhaps Jeffrie Phillips too. If he so chooses. The eyeing continues.

“Well… what did you think?” asks Marty from a nearby stool about the tome detailing the history of the bar and Urqhart in general. Spanking new girlfriend Linda Halsey, fresh from a broken relationship down in Agatetown on the lower coast, was by his side, holding his arm even preoccupied with her own thoughts at the moment. I wonder how David Newton Jasper is doing, alone with his Chalcedony and other progressive math rock albums? Fine, she then thinks, imagining him playing air guitar again. How many times? She had to leave (like all the others), looks be damned.

Jeffrie Phillips decides to answer Marty since Linda’s internal monologue seemed to be over. “It was… interesting.”

“Do you understand now why we have to eliminate “Love Peace”, eliminate the smoke screen that was the Summer of Love, ’66 or ’67 take your pick? There is no Love. There is no Peace. This must be *revealed*.”

Arthur Kill nods agreeably from the dormant piano. This is why he sticks with Marty. Through thick and thin, the cynicism always shines through. It attracts him like a dim moth to bright light. I think of the bug again here…

Jeffrie stares out the dappled window beyond the bikes in the parking lot into the heart of the Indian Lake/Sox Pond basin. Started right here in this bar, eh? 1919 huh — double 19’s. Scandal. Black. Indian… red. White.

Phillips rezzes a local, vanilla style paper without any red atall to take his mind off the quandary, which gives Arthur Kill his cue (*pop*!). Our story must continue elsewhere.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0416, Corsica^^

more Picton pics

https://www.iceboxpec.org/visit/

Muffled voice from within: “Is it spring yet?”

“Just kidd’n. I’m over here now. But what happened to Yellow’s?”

https://www.theye11ow.com/blank-pvj6y

“Ahh so. Ye11ow’s. 11 instead of ‘ll’.”

“And only 200 meters away as the crowbird flies…

… but still hidden, hmmmm.”

“Hold on. What’s that over there? Just at the end of the street?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0416, Canada

prelude

“Shouldn’t you be telling the police about a missing person case? I’m just a lawyer.”

“I didn’t know who to turn to,” Paul confessed. “Are you sure you don’t want a beer, Teebestia?”

“Teeb, please,” she admonished lightly. “No, not while on the clock, thank you.”

“I don’t know,” Paul continued. “You seemed like an honest person. (With a) good heart.”

“I appreciate that.”

Paul didn’t look over at her while talking. “I’m afraid Mary… went home. Broken heart. It was just after talking about Little One that it happened. Poof… gone.”

“Little One being the last lamb of Grassland.” Teebestia scratched the back of her head. “Tell me more about your Mary if you will.”

“We met in school. Bennington. She was a dancer, I was a stand up comedian. She was into animal rights even then, her and Peter together. That’s how Lamb was created. Broadway.”

“Lamb is the same as Broadway,” Teebestia attempted to clarify.

“Yes,” affirmed Paul.

Teebestia put both hands gently on the counter, just saying what she had to say at this point. “How did *you* get here, then? And how and why do you change *races*?” She thought back to yesterday, when she witnessed the conversion up close and personal. Right as they crossed the line from Astarte into Lapara.

Paul couldn’t reveal what he really wanted to here, the Big One. So he invited her to Owls Head as a substitute. That way they could also look for Mary, if by chance she was still around the underground somewhere. They shot down the newly relocated Rabbit Hole.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0416, Heterocera^^, Lapara^