Category Archives: 04

October 24, 2019 · 8:30 am

enjoy the little things

“To be clear, Hucka Doobie, the paint brush sign for this Little Art House contains no green. Red, blue, and yellow, to be true. But green is gray or colorless, just like in…”

“… The Red Umbrella?” guesses Hucka Doobie correctly. “61 rr crossing 49; I suppose you’re right. But who… you go.”

“But who will play Lu Ellen? Someone, obviously, with a red hat or cap. Doesn’t have to be *that* cap; (simple) red will do.”

“She’ll have to be human as well,” adds Hucka Doobie still standing below the green-less sign. “What I mean is that at least outwardly she’ll appear as wholly human. It’s only the difference between here (Hucka Doobie grabs her breast) and here (Hucka Doobie grabs lower) that matters now. Then *this* happens.”

“You know who it has to be,” states Baker Bloch, looking over at his old friend the bee-person.

“Well. She *is* still living here. With her brother/lover. Might as well put her to work. Make her grean again.”

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October 24, 2019 · 6:23 am

green

After the funeral, the frog cousins crashed at Lu Ellen’s place just beyond the lower edge of Apple’s Orchard before moving into NWES proper. She was quickly indoctrinated into and made new leader of their Red Squirt Seven group, now headless since Melvin was dead. Melville “Peepee” Todd, that is, who also happened to be Lu Ellen’s father. They were all bound and determined, by blood and guts, to find the murderer: fellow cousin Bullfrog. Each spawned from a different sibling of the same family. And 3 of the 4 bound by a belief larger than family that happened to include family. A return to ORDER.

As new head, Lu Ellen tried to instruct the simple frogs as best she could. Yes, homosexuality was a sin in the sight of God and, yes, they were right to intervene, even though it cost them her father, their old head, their brains. Tough guy Kermit Winkler, simplest of the bunch, equals hands in this manner, perhaps health. Tough but warmer Lester equals heart, I suppose. And girl child Lu Ellen was there to lead them all back home. To sanity. To purity.

The irony is that she’s (almost) human, like Marilyn of “The Munsters.” Not that frogs are monsters, but you get the general point. She elected to be this way, to fit in better with the world at large, with costly procedures representing stepping stones from amphibian to homo sapien existence. And now that process is almost completed. Just one more operation. And then *this* happens.

(to be continued?)

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October 23, 2019 · 6:44 am

back

“Peanut,” answers Rock Ramby in his gruff voice to lover Gill Alex in their more expensive apartment on Southside. “That’s what we’re looking for. They’re all over town. Along with that other guy. The Guy guy.” He continues to stare out toward the sea.

“Guy Linden,” responds Gill in an effeminate voice from the pillows with the books inside, currently enjoying the backside of Rock instead. “Met him once on a railroad.”

Rock swings around and looks at Gill Alex directly. “W-why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I don’t know.” Rock’s front was not nearly as pleasant to behold as the behind. He was truly angry this bit of information was withheld from him.

“Especially concerning a *RR*.”

—–

They later ate at Spunky’s, a popular, local watering hole that we’ve already seen other characters of this current Collagesity photo-novel at (Merry Gouldbusk, Herbert Dune, maybe some others).

Oh, sorry… wrong “coffee Japanese Tea House.” There’re so many of ’em in NWES!

… let’s start again. They later dined at Spunky’s, a local, popular place to eat and drink.

Rock was taking too long to eat, as usual for his lover. Gill Alex was only drinking by this point, far ahead of his partner in that aspect. His two toned brain began to spin around the idea of the Guy again.

“He wasn’t my lover,” he defends between gulps, and then clunks the glass noisily on the table. “*Lover*.” His voice was increasingly becoming more Zeus-like, as it had been in novel 13. Not quite but getting there.

Rock woofs down some more lasagna pasta. “I know that, I know that,” he murmurs while simultaneously chewing, a little less gruff in tone to balance things out. “It’s just, ahem,” and here he sets down the fork quietly. “The RR and all.”

“Hitchcock?” Gill Alex scoffs. “We haven’t talked about that idea in months.” Then he had another idea. “Blue Berry Girl? Is *she* involved?” He stared at his purple wine back in front of his face. The glass seemed to hold a story.

—–

Out of the Misty Mountains she came, landing just outside Rock Ramby’s RR.

The dogg started barking…

… but then stopped as Blue Berry Girl crossed the RR and lost her plump, blue encasement. Herself at last!

Dogg bounded toward her, recognizing the long lost master. She scratched his ears while talking. “Outside, over there, I’m fat and bloated to the world. Inside I am free.” She looked toward the cabin no one lived in. “I’ll never be unfree again.”

—–

Yeah. *That* story. The dogg one.

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August 22, 2019 · 8:41 am

section’s end too

“Who will sit here in this chair, Eraserhead Man. Mr. Producer, teehee. The Queen?”

“Yes, Ruby D. The Heart Queen. Coming all the way from Horns of Hatton to visit this God forsaken *Yankee*town. Not the far, far North, but North enough. Chickens frowned upon here, etc.”

“Then what? *prrr*.”

“The South takes over. Like yin into yang. The balls revolve, like the Moon. Dark into light (EM positions his glowing yellow hands as if holding a ball), and light into dark (EM switches the hands’ position with each other while still holding the ‘ball’).”

“And the, ahem, little devils are waiting for this. Red Devil’s spawn. These are, er, Benny and Jer’s *brothers*, then?”

“There’s a couple of sisters involved as well. But: yes.” He peers over at Ruby D. A *different* Ruby, yes. More *ditzy* than the rest. But still Ruby. He can feel her essence. It calmed him. He could *hear*. He could think better as well. Yes, he could still *marry* this girl standing beside him. “And it should happen the day before the last Tuesday after the first Saturday of a month,” he speaks my thoughts aloud. “Pick a month — any will do.”

“August,” emitted Ruby D. automatically.

“August it is.”


Main Street, Gregson.

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August 22, 2019 · 7:28 am

crescendo

Fast forward to 8 months later…

“Bogart and Bergman again? Aww, Ruby Dharmaraksa. What are we doing here in this sim?”

“*You agreed to the situation as well,” she snapped back.

“Oh yeah, what — what are you going to do? Throw another *pot* at my head. The last one didn’t draw enough blood?”

Ruby D. begins to cry. Marcus Fox Smartville caves and calms down. Little footsteps could be heard running around upstairs, directly above where they were sitting. “You better, *sniff*, go check on them again. If (she wipes her face with her hand)… you don’t mind. I don’t want them to see me this way, all red eyed and runny nosed.”

“Okay, sure. Just don’t get this way.”

“It didn’t, *sniff*, use to be like this.”

“I know. Things change.” He reaches over and pats her hand now. “Circumstances change. We have so much more responsibility now. The roses aren’t the only thing we have to take care of these days.” Marcus Fox Smartville thought back to the day when her rose changed. They weren’t the perfect match any longer. Ahh, the halcyon days. The XOXO times. When is there time for that now? Hardly ever.

—–

“How are they doing, Gus?”

“Oh, you know. Little demons as usual.”

“2 hours until lunch. Just try to keep them *slightly* under control till then. As long as they don’t burn down the house again, or set the neighbor’s on fire.”

“Again,” Gus the caretaker tacked on. He looked over at Marcus with this. They couldn’t help share a mischievous smile; both loved these little devils. More than Ruby D. More than the neighbors, obviously. More than, well, the town as a whole. But everyone knew they had to put up with them in the meantime. Jer Left Horn and his brother Benny Right Horn were scouting for a place to put them and selected Gregson, according to their father’s wishes. His *spawn*.

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August 21, 2019 · 4:28 am

pub

“‘666 Satan’, it’s called, Cathy A. One of my team researchers Scotty found it on a search for Dharmaraksa images, Google style — almost gave up for the night then checked one more time and found this. And, get this, turns out the main character of the series is named *Ruby*. *You’re* the 666th character of these Collagesity novels. Red Devil was here in this town as late as last week with his unknown establishment of Southern bias. Left a *sign* there: 66, which translates into the same (666).

“And I can *talk* to you without those blasted *hearing aids.* Everything points to you being Ruby yourself. Well, not *that* Ruby necessarily but *our* Ruby, the one that blew up *our* New Island at the age of exactly 15 1/2. Now keep that in mind when I read some notes Scotty sent me along with the (‘666 Satan’ texture).” Eraserhead Man pulls out a small notebook from his pocket. “Let’s see. Okay, this is from a combination of several sources. Alright: ‘Set in the near future, it tells the story of a teenage girl named Ruby Crescent who wants to become a treasure hunter.’ And then he goes on, um, ‘(She’s) a teenage girl of *15*’ — *our* Ruby’s 15 and a 1/2. Can’t get any more 15 than that.” Eraserhead Man flips a couple of pages in his notebook, then: “So there’s mention of a 4 year *timeskip*, just like New Island went though. Again: *our* New Island, not the one out in the middle of the Indian Ocean. This is Our Second Lyfe we’re talking about here. But — this is important too — *that* Ruby, the ‘666 Satan’ one, aged. Turned all voluptuous during those years. *Our* Ruby never changed. She remains, well,” and here Eraserhead Man cups his yellow cartoon hands underneath his breast region. “No real *b’s*. Apples in Preston Weston speak.”

“Hey, thanks a lot. I’ve got b’s.”

“Well I know you do, sweetie. But you’re naturally…”

“Petite,” Cathy A. finishes for Eraserhead Man. “Dainty? *Stunted*?”

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August 21, 2019 · 2:34 am

motel

“I think that’s the worst part of leaving the South for me, Jer my bro.” He stares at Bogart and Bergman on the screen. “No colored TV.”

“I hear ya.”

—–

“I *love* black and white TV,” Cathy A. squeals downstairs at basically the same instant in time. “Reminds me of my childhood in…” She tails off here.

“In where, pumpkin spice? You mean…?”

“Yeah.”

Marcus Fox Smartville studies her sad face, so filled with joy just a moment before. Then he notices the rose.

Not the same hand, not the same color. Just with the insinuation of Crabwoo everything had changed.

“I’m remembering things,” she said.

—–

“Anorexia?” he responds just a minute later. “What kind of name is *that*?”

“She goes by Annie.”

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August 20, 2019 · 8:00 am

bluef

Blue Feather is close, that’s for sure.

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August 19, 2019 · 4:30 am

wheres and whyfors

It was a busier night at the Gregson Motel in Dharmaraksa. The well established establishment was about to get 2/3rds full. Brothers Jer Left Horn and Benny Right Horn were the first to arrive, coming from Horns of Hatton by Royal (Magic) Bus. They were followed quickly by Marcus Fox Smartville and new gal pal Cathy A., with last name to be determined. The vehicle this time? None other than Little Jimmy, the complete bastard of a car also recently owned by Keith B., Kevin A., and perhaps some others I’m not recalling right this instant. $70,000 lindens was the price this time. The bastardliness just keeps on building upon itself like some kind of warped lego concoction.

“You allow chickens, I’m assuming,” said Jer Left Horn to the hotel receptionist, unseen to his left here. “She’s house trained.” Bethulia was current playing hide and seek with Willard (receptionist) from behind his computer monitor, but he didn’t find this cute at all. Blame Southerners, he instead thought swearingly. I guess they’ll start coming in droves to this place after it’s all said and done.

Marcus and Cathy picked up whispered words from the horned brothers like, “Red Devil”, “father”, and “honor”. But there was no need for secrecy. History had shifted in and then turned out upon itself, like some kind of warped twister game. All was there to expose thanks to scrying, reality flipping black holes. Marcus recalls something about a jug, or, better, like a glove turned inside out, true nature revealed. Both left and right at once — in a warped way again. Red Devil.

“Alright that was GREAT guys! FanTAStic! That’s a WRAP for today! Good WORK!”

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August 19, 2019 · 2:33 am

making history

“Ooo. I *love* it,” actress Cathy A. coos. “So you’re Gabby Truth as well. Splendid!”

“Thanks. But let’s see what we see inside my crystal ball. Here. Let me turn it on first.”

“Ahhh. The *Moon*. Didn’t recognize it in the dark.”

“The New Moon is a false Moon,” Gabby Truth (Greg) states cryptically while beginning to stare deep into its glowing, cratered surface.

—–

“Interesting. We will remain Marcus Fox Smartville and Cathy A. instead of Greg and Dharma. Pencil Man wishes it that way and says we already have a Greg (with two “g”‘s) and also Gregg (with three “g”‘s) in the production. *His* production, because Phil has yielded to a stronger, *living* entity now.”

“Phil Austin?”

But Marcus Fox Smartville currently playing the role of Gabby Hayes Truth doesn’t answer Cathy A. and instead begins speaking of Gregson or whatever name the small Northern town will ultimately acquire. “The 66(6) sign was just that — a sign. Owner: the Red Devil indeed. Here’s a quote I’m seeing about the him… or her: ‘Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth — and taste. I’ve been around for a long, long year….'”

“‘Long, long year?” Cathy A. quotes, snapping Gabby out of his trance. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Now let me *concentrate* again — don’t interrupt unless absolutely necessary.” Gabby (Marcus) stares into the lighted Moon again. After a moment: “Devil… yes, I’m seeing it again. An establishment was there (on that parcel). Southern, not Northern, although within the North.” He pulls back, still staring into space. “Red Devil was a Northerner.”

“We *all* know that,” replies Cathy A., new memories suddenly snapping into place via The Magic. “It was a hidden fact, but now the townspeople want to embrace this noble past. It’s in all the local papers, duh.”

“It is?” Marcus behind Gabby then realized this was truth. New memories had snapped in for him as well. “Ahh, yes. His *establishment* there. Southern — but a disguise.” He had no need for the Moon now. Scrying information had become real information for all to see and remember.

(to be continued?)

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