Category Archives: 0507

church (Eotia Village)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sherwood_Anderson

Four[5] or five[6] years were spent in Caledonia, years which formed Anderson’s earliest memories. This period later inspired his semi-autobiographical novel Tar: A Midwest Childhood (1926).[7] In Caledonia Anderson’s father began drinking excessively, which led to financial difficulties, eventually causing the family to leave the town.[7]

“That’s an interesting story, Zoidboro. But I thought it was Caledon.”

Again with the smarts, Zoidboro ponders. What was it now, 8 1/2 months? 8 3/4ths? Better get to the caves asap. “Cale*don*ia,” he emphasizes to his pregnant male friend. “It would be Caledon if told from their perspective, but this is through the eyes of Rosehaven. The Princess ruler, to be specific. Soon to be Queen now that the father is dead. And the mother remains in her grave.”

“So…,” Patrick Starr tries to reason, “… Caledon, I mean, *Rosehaven* is way over here.” He moves his right hand far to the right. “And The Waste, *our* home, is way over here.” The left hand goes more left.

“But brought together by the Oracle,” states Zoidboro, shifting slightly on the bed to peer at the strangely colored 8 ball in the middle of the table to one side. “Tiger,” he completes, noting the residual “stripes”.

“I suppose.” Patrick retracts both hands, sits up, and holds his bloated stomach. “Oh, I felt a kick!”

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another angle

Roger Pine Ridge kept looking at the flickering white glow beneath the water that he knew was Anton. Shoes stolen; mission accomplished. Like finding the ruby slippers of Oz, he thought. Anorexia’s gonna be pissed off as hell.

He looked over at the green robed woman beside him, face harshly illuminated by the glare of the flashlight she held. Scars. “I’m just waiting for the significant other to finish up inside,” he explained from his chair. “How about you?”

—–

Cyberpaperdoll walks out of Fae’s Boat House with 50,000 lindens in hand.

“Come on, Biker,” she said just above a whisper toward the closest Pine Ridge chair. “Time to go.”

“Don’t forgot to sign the guestbook out there!” Jim the Pirate Bartender called from within, a request they most definitely ignored while leaving.

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