It is happening again.
Category Archives: 0502
The jazz and beatnik club known as The Dive was actually just a front for the numbers station in a secret room below the establishment. An old bomb shelter. Charlie Banana became humanized after being successfully contacted by Poetry Dancer. They listened to the artful tunes of D.J. Marty, still intent on finding out whether Yoko was a good or bad witch. We’d determined that Mid-Hazel was the real manipulator behind the scenes. Another All the Numbers situation, most likely. He played his Pepper album both forwards and backwards at once to attempt to create a third, higher perspective. Lt. Salt entered the club and
killed them all bought them all drinks. It was an unexpected result.
From his Holy Island in Henrietta, red rose holding Marcus Fox Smartville receives more information from the laggy, texture overloaded Oracle before him.
Corsica is an elephant — yes. He already knew that, staring beyond the Oracle into the far corner of the building. He imagined the fantastical, imposing elephant there trumpeting additional, savage notes with his huge trunk which emerged as ants that came into view after spilling on the floor before it and marching toward the Oracle, hell bent on protection. Symbiotic relationship.
“One of us is going to kill the other one, you know.”
“I know. (pause) I hope it’s you.” Communication bleeps from the opposite side of the room. They both stare over.
“The Oracle says it’s time for me to ride your back over to the island, Mr. Purple.”
He puts away the knife. For now. “Hop on.”
By the time he reached the island, Purple (and) Bear had become one again. He stares over at his old house. The one stolen from him by Rules of Rose.
(to be continued?)
“Hi Carrcassonnee. Welcome back, heh. Whattaya got to say for yourself? Hear it’s been a long, long time for ya, huh? Carrcassonnee?”
“I…….. am……… back?”
“That’s right, Carr. Can I call you Carr? Like something-I-can-drive kind of car. Except with another ‘r’ at the end.”
Carr(cassonnee) thought heavily. “I…………. suppose.”
“Great, Carr, heh.” The Man About Time spins around while holding out his arms. This was truly a joyful moment. Carr is alive! She’s come back. “Do you know what happened? How you got back?”
Carr senses something at her left foot. A buzzing, a humming. Life! “Something……. about……… plants?”
“That’s right, Carr baby. Plants. 3 plants, but 2 are dead. But that one, man. That one did the trick. Either you brought *it* back to life or it brought *you* back to life. Either one: you’re back. Man. Dad-i-o.”
Who…. is….. this….. man? Carr then thought, less lumberingly and limbering up. Is he……. dad? And…. this…. moss.. hanging.. off. Me. Carr tried to look down at the moss draping from her left arm but couldn’t. Had to keep staring at The Man About Time instead. But she could feel it. And she could see it peripherally. She could see a lot of things that way. A bit of the just resurrected Collagesity Tower almost completely at a right angle to her through the right window, for example. A structure she recognized. Collagesity, she thought. *Home*.
“What’s back here, then?”
“Oh, nothing. Just an alley,” answered Domino, showing the tall, swarthy man around the gas station his uncle owned.
The stranger peers out. “Oh, I think it’s much more than an alley.”
“In its day, maybe. The Dark Days.” Satan Days, Domino thinks to himself, not wanting to say the word aloud.
The stranger knocks on the door, testing its solidity. “No eyes on this one as far as you can tell?”
“Nope,” clipped Domino, thinking how lucky they could limit themselves to one door for such a profitable establishment. Karma indeed.
“Listen, er, stranger.” Domino was trying to prompt for a name again. And failing again. “Um, my uncle won’t be back today. Like I said, *he’s* the owner. He’s the one you should be talking to. Not me.”
“That’s fine,” replied the dark man plainly, implying that he was okay with just talking to Domino now. Was Domino being played? Was he *in play*?
Marion Harding shuts the door, turns around, crosses his arms. “Tell your uncle that I’m interesting in buying this joint. Tell him — money is not an option.”
“Er… do you mean that money is not an issue? That’s great, er, but Uncle Zach, I’m sure, isn’t selling.” Then Domino realized he might be wrong. Why was the stranger here in the first place?
“I said what I said,” reinforced Marion. “Tell your Uncle Zach exactly what I just told you. Understand?”
Spongeberg Resident’s last creative activity in Whitehead Crossing before the move to Our Second Lyfe was a temple complex at the very uppermost portion of Green Stream’s Korean Channel, reachable by the log bridge pictured below.
The centerpiece was suppose to be Seven Stone but modified to 12 in the construction. Spongeberg rationalized this by saying the 7th was pregnant at the time and had 5 children rocks to top the structure.
Spongeberg’s energy spins on from world to world. The Baker Family now has a chance to buy a pretty big chunk of cheap land in the center of the Route 13-14 peninsula, connecting Whitehead Crossing to BoB in a more direct way. In fact, I think I’ll just make a call to the wife (who’s out of town currently visiting her poor, sick father), to wish her Happy Anniversary and also ask if buying the virtual land is okay. I’m sure she’ll be good with it, but she always seems to tell me about her expenditures that may amount to over 50 dollars or so. Potentially amount in this case, for the land itself is only 25 bucks and tier for 3 weeks will be 32 additional dollars. And I have the option to sell the 8192 square meter parcel before that, perhaps for more than what I bought it with. A question then becomes: What happens after this 3 week “grace” period?
Okay, Happy Anniversary wished, permission granted, and so I’m going to purchase the 8192. Before I do, a word about the word BoB.
Okay, purchased land (!) Didn’t want to wait.
Now: about BoB.
(to be continued)
In the large room immediately below Reggie’s bar…
… Axis the Tin Tin Soldier Man and evil sidekick Clubby watch another training film preparing them for the war to come. The wall between The Waste and the other, more savory dimensions is becoming thinner and more ragged. The Bar at the End of Time on the SW corner of Burnt Oak represented just the beginning. Now there was End of Time’s Kob Curtain and his newly acquired taste for meat from The Waste, then cave dweller Tessa’s contact with Fruity Islands… the list goes on and on actually. The antimatter leak at the ruined Church of Extreme Tilers over in Wastoria to name another.
Axis and Clubby knew the walls were slowly closing in on them. And now, so did Jackson Bloch. Thanks to the natives’ lack of understanding about the martial arts. Hand held weapons were the thing around here.
He takes another sip of his rancid beer and contemplates the next step.