Category Archives: 04

00350404

She hadn’t shaved her legs in a week, it seemed, so she decided to do so, despite the circumstances. She knew that shaving cream could be substituted for laundry detergent in a pinch — why not the opposite?

It kinda worked I suppose. Now for that black dude… Kill van Kull, synthesizer specialist for the Oil Can What. Seeing him, she suddenly had an urge to wear purple, uh oh.

Reversion.

“It should have been you in here instead of me.”

“I know.”

“30 minutes, Miss.” The policeman purposely didn’t call her Mrs. This was *illegal* what they did. So the town of Morgan (Orient PO) has spoken.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0404, HANA LEI, Mountain Lake, Omega

then and now (waves keep coming)

Recently I moved to Toyger on the Far eastern coast of Gaeta (New Continent) so that I can honour the rising Sun.

“Clarence was wrong about the dance animation studio being there. It was all a setup.”

“You said Clarence,” Arthur tested into the receiver. “Did you mean Claude?”

“I…. don’t know (!).”

“Check on that please. Before I head over.”

Later she went back to the theatre and checked again. No screen. This is all real; Clarence is real. She is in the film being filmed as we speak. Perhaps that would explain all the close ups. She is looking for the camera, ha (!).

A well dressed black man enters the picture.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0403, Gaeta V, Mountain Lake, Omega

Spider

The town was rather a jumbled mess of buildings, but Shelley didn’t stay there long, taking the path of fellow Klancasterians Dixon One and Dixon Two before her and heading to Omega mountain country for purity, cleansing, or so they attempted. One came back but the other one (Two?) didn’t. We still don’t know which, thanks to the built-in ambiguity of these here photo-novels, 35 in a series of 35 so far. And last we saw of bride to one of ’em, Snowwhite Well, a mutual cousin, she was living with giant chickens over on the Maebaleia continent, as old as her Maw now — the Dixons’ Aunt — and just as aged of skin. She thought visiting monarch Greyscale Kimball was a tithe collector and was going to sic Gander, the biggest of the fowl, on her. But turns out they had a common love for reading, and a special fondness for the epic novel “Moby Prick”, so famous in that land where it was set, uniting the highest and lowest of classes in this case.

Point is, the Dixons were searching in these mountains for treasure that was right in front of them all along, smack dab in the middle of their hometown: Snowwhite Well herself, as she tried to explain to them in Vain (a suburb). Now, I don’t think Shelley is looking for treasure as well, at least this version of herself, but she found some anyway, in a tavern in Morgan about as Oriental and far away from the Occidental West as you can get. This was the Tesseract, this was the Hypercube.

She turned away from it at first, not believing her eyes. It was dressed up like a circus dog and set inside a display cage. The 4 repeating numbers over his or her head had been removed. Why would Roberts do this? she thought. She had to get in contact with Arthur again somehow, make that Lemont somehow. She was not on The Cross but she was still trapped, East becoming West and North becoming South every other day and every other week respectively, as she soon found out. She had jumped from the fire back into the frying pan but it remained hot as hell in here. Then she began to hear them, soft and sloow. “Two.” “One.” “Three.” “Zero.” A human-like feminine voice, surprising her, with a bit of a hiss in it, like a serpent. No barking or yelping detected. Then it started again. “Two.” “One.” “Zero.” “Three.” A bit of a break and then again: “Two.” “Three.” “One.” “Zero.” And again and again. She had to listen to them all, the 24 permutations of those 4 cursed numbers. She finally turned after it was over, sweat dripping off her body, making her long shirt-blouse wet at the stomach, neck and back.

“What *are* you?”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0402, Mountain Lake, Omega, The Cross

new angle

“So you see, babydoll. You *can’t* leave The Cross right now. Right there in the contract you signed. You’re part of the club now.”

Shelley studied and studied the thing but couldn’t find a way out. Biff Carter was the same age as her or older than her by 2 decades. If the former, then *they* may be destined to be married — Biff — Mr. Carter — must know this too. If the latter, Mr. Carter — Biff — could be her father.

But she has a father. Newt, yes. And a mother: Wheeler. She tells Biff/Mr. Carter this, along with being engaged to George already, who, turns out, he knows by another name.

“Oh I know about Arthur,” he says in response to all this. “I don’t think you’re really engaged to this… *Musician*.”

“Am too,” Shelley tried to defend, but knew it was hopeless. Says right here: Shelley Struthers will be stuck on The Cross until the end of novel 35, where she’ll make a choice between 3 lovers. She knows two. Here could be the 3rd — has to be, I suppose.

Biff knew she couldn’t weasel out of this. The Umbrella Club has spoken. “Satisfied?” he ended.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0401, Omega, The Cross

silliness

There. He has it, shrunk back down to its original size. In the hands of the original owner. John L. Brown can stop grovelling now and move on to something else. Like selling cars.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0417, Tennessee

states

“Interesting place you brought me to, Wheeler. All I asked for is to give me back the mop.”

“Brrr,” she fake shivered. “Getting cold in here. You’ll have to put on at least a shirt soon.”

“You know I don’t do that, Wheeler,” spoke John L. Brown honestly. For a change. He *was* getting cold. A paradox was coming up. “It’s right there,” he continued. “Just… hand it over.”

“No,” she replied bluntly. “I… I’m not ready.”

“You like the *power*.” His smile turned into a smirk. Change x 2.

Wheeler thought back to using it on Arthur Kill. Indeed made him rise from the dead, just like Duck said it would when they met last. She desired to meet him again. John L. Brown said that he would meet in his stead and that he was away from Our Second Lyfe for the moment. Something in Real Life, he said. Uncopyrighted and untrademarked business. Herbert Domain.

“Herbert Domain?” Wheeler uttered at the time, obviously thinking of Tennessee. And she was right. They weren’t ready for that kind of business here. The dog named Spider is enough for now.

“You’ve done your business here,” spoke John L. Brown, the smirky smile not quite off his lips. “You know you can’t get out of this.”

“Chop me some wood first,” she said, fake shivering again. Because Wheeler had her own internal heating system. Unlike John.

But there was no wood to find in this desolate place high in the Foxtrot Backcountry. Only snow, static to others. Tennessee remains untraceable. The plane remains crashed in Kentucky and not Black Jack. That was the whole point of this.

Wheeler relented, gave over the mop. John L. Brown would hand it over to Paul in the next post.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0416, HANA LEI, Kentucky, Tennessee

00340415

“Looks like a Dove. Highlighted by white, even. Shadow against light.”

“Could be could be,” he relented. Spider. They’d found him! Carrcassonnee was overjoyed.

“Can I… see him again now? Now again him see… I can?”

—–

“Well I’ll just wait upstairs while you finish speaking with each other,” said Jamie, walking away and highlighting Sign.

The footsteps on the stairs ended and the footsteps on the top floor began. Roberts was more free to talk about what Tessa needed to know. She’d already apologized about before. She said it was the town and the lag there, made her appear… less clever than she was. Roberts actually meant Tessa here but Tessa thought she meant herself (Roberts). There was just that difference between the two. Now at least the difference is clear, because we weren’t in Cable Isle any longer but back in Towerboro. Which office was the branch of the other didn’t really matter. That would be revealed soon enough. I would assume (the branch is) here without knowing more, but I’m about as clueless as Tessa in the moment. We better get to their dialog.

“I’m sorry about before, Tessa. It was the lag and the town.”

“Yes, you said that before.”

“I was just checking to see if you were listening. Sometimes people don’t when I speak, but maybe I’m just use to Cable Isle and its issues. Maybe here will be different.”

So just listening in, it appears that there is only one Roberts and Franklin investigating firm and it has moved from there to here. Back to the interaction.

“I’m listening,” said Tessa, trying to do this simple action. All I need, she thought, is to wake up, not sleepwalk all the time. That’s what Roberts desires.

“Let’s just enjoy the here and now for a moment, shall we?” Roberts kept silent. Tessa kept silent. Roberts reengaged eye contact. “*Now*.”

A blue Martian appeared. “Who’s that, Roberts?”

“Laura, please,” requested the psychic-detective. “And that, my friend, is an Observer.”

“Hmmm. What is she observing?”

“You,” came the quick reply. Silence again. Tessa was trying to think of a next step — what Roberts wanted from her again. She was trying to be mindful. Roberts — Laura — was patient, she knew. There was something here to be revealed, she picked up, and not just the Observer. There was another *thing* involved, a (she gleaned) thing that is not what it seems. An animal! She said this aloud.

“Good. What kind of animal?”

“She immediately thought, dog, but discarded it as too easy, not trusting her gut reaction. Her thoughts drifted to horse. She could just guess aloud. “Horse,” she said.

“Mmmm, not quite,” spoke Roberts, face remaining neutral.

Alligator? she thought. “Alligator.”

“Again: not quite.”

Spider came to mind but she broadened it as insect. “Insect.”

“Yes.”

Tessa was pleased, thinking that was the end of the game. But then Roberts continued. “And?”

“Something else besides an insect?” Tessa tried to clarify.

Roberts gave up the game, opened the door with her mind.

“A… dog?” It was the first thing that came to mind and then it was the last thing that came to mind. Funny how things work that way.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0415, Cable Isle, Google Street View, Jeogeot, Tennessee, Towerboro

row of red 02

“Okay Kenny, slow and easy. We know what animal we’re looking for now.”

“Dog,” Kenny said, repeating the last word of the old, confused man.

And then, just like that — so suddenly — there it was. “There!” Ken screamed almost as loudly as the killed lady in the house did before. Arthur squelched the desire to shoot him on the spot as well. Because he saw something too.

“Back up. I want to make sure.” Ken backed up one click.

“Okay, sloow and eassy — and no screaming this time.” He held one of his weapons to Ken’s head just to make sure. He could drive himself if push came to shove. And it might after this. One click later: still there.

“The bird is *attacking* the dog?” Ken said in as calm a voice as he could muster given the circumstances.

“One click more forward,” Arthur Kill demanded, not yet ready to answer any questions.

“Okay.” Click.

Arthur Kill looked at the spectacle that had moved more toward the back. The bird is far separate from the dog now.

“Indicating,” concluded Kill. “The bird was indicating the dog. We can go home now. But first…” *POP*

The dog replaced the man.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0414, Google Street View, Tennessee

row of red

“Hold on slow down,” commanded Arthur Kill from the passenger seat, loaded down with weapons of not so mass destruction and thus unable to drive. Instead Ken of Cable Isle’s Junk Yard and Mechanic Shop acted as his chauffeur, having been spared for a bit more to do this job after he successfully fixed the old ’57 Chevy just minutes before the 11 PM deadline, dead being the operative word here. Afterwards, however, we anticipate his story will end the same as his former partner Bobby’s: planted in the same paltry town cemetery as Arthur Kill rose from just day before yesterday’s tomorrow thanks to Wheeler Wilson and her wicked witchy ways. They may even just reuse the wooden coffin Harry or Harold the Gnome made specifically for Kill, which long Ken could fill out pretty nicely as well, they might determine. There’s also admittedly a racist angle to this possible reuse since both were black men. We need not go into the town’s sordid history here and the gnomes’ strong involvement with it. Arthur Kill’s corrupted morals have nothing to do with ethnicity. White Wheeler Wilson, for instance, is just as bad in many ways, perhaps even worse in some. And Ken is as innocent as the driven snow in all this.

“Wait here,” he further ordered to Ken, and got out of the car to inspect shoes laid out on the stairs of the small house, flip flops more specifically, 8 in number, a suspicious number indeed given what he was looking for.

I’ll go in and try to get information from these stick hicks one by one, he thinks, killing them as I count them off. Could be 4 regular human beings, but, dare he dream it, could be *one* thing. “Keep the engine going,” he barked at Ken, not caring if the people inside (if they were people) heard him or not.

Turns out it was 4 humans to his disappointment. He popped them off 1 2 3 4. The 2nd and 3rd were too scared even to talk. The 1st just screamed — Kill put an end to that quickly. The 4th was interesting. “Dog gonnit, I know that name,” he said in a weary old voice to Arthur’s question, his mind obviously too gone to realize what was happening, and that 3 of his relatives or whatever (Kill assumed everyone was related to everyone else in this stick hick house) had perished and that he was in all likelihood next. “Dog…” he said, pausing before finishing with “gonnit.” “Dog,” he said again, and let it stand alone this time. “Dog!” he said, remembering. *POP*

“Thanks,” Arthur said, blowing smoke from the barrel of the just fired pistol as was his custom. Dog it is.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0413, Cable Isle, Google Street View, Tennessee

00340412

Nata Lee Cornfield is next for a visit to the food market. A relieved and refreshed Mabel cheerfully says hello to her at the door. “How’s Natha Neil?” she adds, and then waits for the zinger. Always the zingers from Nata Lee. Tangy if not refreshing! But twins have to keep up with each other like that. Two sets of twins in this case.

A yellow colored orange drops from a hole deep deep deep in Maggie’s pocket onto the surface of the parking lot as she attempts to load everything in her car. A man picks it up, thinking he’s helping. “Here, Miss, you dropped something,” he said. Snake.

—–

“I could put a lot of things in this purse. I’ve got a banana in there, I’ve got a phone. I’ve got a banana shaped like a phone.”

Jem kept silent, her attention focused on the beer bottle before her. She was moving it back and forth across the table a bit with her mind. Digging through her purse as she was, Dafney didn’t notice the odd occurrence.

“So Jem, catch me up. How, ahem, are you still alive I mean? I didn’t expect to see you again.” She kept looking in her purse for that banana shaped phone. Never found. Maybe Peter took it from her. He loves novelties after all. She glances over at the still silent Jem, sees the t-shirt but not the queer movement of the bottle.

“Got some new clothes I see,” she started again. Silence. Dafney finally notices the bottle. “And some new powers (!).”

The bottle disappears. “I’m sorry Dafney. I’ll pay attention to you now.”

But Dafney just starts digging in her purse again, looking for that phone to call Peter to ask him who has the phone.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0412, Jeogeot, Towerboro