Category Archives: 05

May 29, 2023 · 12:58 am

making hay

Her long journey over (thanks “Sing to God”, the double album masterpiece by the Cardiacs, for getting me there!), she pulled into a spot dotted with horses, real and plastic alike. Her Boyfriend’s XL flannel shirt she threw on in a rush served pretty well to ward off the cold; would have worked better if she hadn’t kept the windows down the whole way out here because of the music; had to play it loud in order to get the full impact of the event. And she didn’t forget her pistol — secured in a holster at the top of her stockings, along with some phony cash and some cheating cards, or so she told me earlier (4 “extra” aces). Hidden by the shirt, we’ll say. There was always something going on for this creature of the night. The Gates of Heaven were safe for some, probably most. But not for her, she reckoned. Heck, she may even have a shoot out with the Lord if she doesn’t watch out. Al, I think he goes by these days. Her new boss, one could say. The person she has to answer to. She’ll make sure she does it on her own terms. No need for him to know about the gun, money, cards. Not yet.

She had reached the end of the road if not the end of the line. Now where the heck does it continue from here, she pondered, staring at and around the red star. She was moving in a direction not many people knew even existed. She was heading off the map.

Rounding the corner of the sign and spotting the horse rezzer, she remembered. She could follow this wall all the way to the ocean and then just keep going: south. Shouldn’t be too much further.

—–

“Almost there, Sugar Cookie,” she reassured the water disliking horse. “Almost home.”

(to be continued)

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May 28, 2023 · 6:53 am

persisting (lime green teddy)

If there’s anything to this *line* she must start here, she feels. A woman named Constantyne, memorialized in the sim of Constance. Too close to be accidental, she understands (the only other Constan/ sim is Constantine, etc.). This is ground 00 — ‘nother one.

But what was this place, actually? She and her ice cream eyes longed to explore further.

—–

She found something. A man standing on the beach, as if looking for someone. For me, she thinks? She zooms in. A black man, tall, maybe 6′ 5″ or so. A guess, but she’s good at such. A man, yes, named Hill, Ruby’s psychic senses tell her beyond the ice cream eyes and lips and everything else. Hawaiian style swimming trucks. Odd goggles — lighted. The man wants to dance but can’t. Someone is stopping him from doing so. His partner cannot arrive without the balls, red and blue. But, she also senses, *both* balls are blue, one upright and one reversed. Sex, male and female. A decision must be made.

This man, wishes to be a father.

The man can grow 3 inches any time he wants to and become 6′ 8″, another Hill. Two Hills in one, then. But it means giving up the product.

The man is both blue and yellow. Think that’s it. Better get back and report.

—–

“My boys!” Mike exclaimed back in Annaberg in the sim of Newt, sitting around his mica table again, yet another ground 00 but perhaps the first. “Poison!” he shrilled. “Poison!” his mate Pat duplicated beside him. They thought this part of their story was done and over with and that they could freely and easily move to the center of Lemon Free State, good over here and bad over there, just a small fraction of its former power. Almost nonexistent. But, turns out, it may last above all the rest.

“No, don’t worry on that front,” explained Ruby to the excited couple. “He didn’t have the product. I looked all around. No lemon, no lime.”

Fruit headed Mike and Pat, being who they are, became very confused with this. Eventually they just disappeared in front of her. She had a new boss to report to. Al.

“My name is Al,” he started, “but you can just call me X. I am the founder of a new religion. Died not by the cross but the desert. Did I say that right this time? Yes. Desert. Died.”

—–

“Hello,” it said between two Tiki totems, making him turn. Ruby was wrong.

(to be continued)

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May 27, 2023 · 12:03 pm

different

Despite the prehistoric nature of the place they sometimes had guests. Like today. Robed angels of death stared at her in several sizes and shapes from this perspective. Death was the guest as well, it seemed.

“If I have children, *when* I have children,” she corrected, “I’m going to name them Flaarf and Bozo, after this Second Lyfe sim.” She has a second life here, she realizes. A second chance.

“What about Ingleboort, dearest,” offered Dr. Brown beside her. “I thought if you had twins you were going to name them Ingleboort and Flaarf, giving up on Bozo — like with the Middletown children. ” He didn’t add *alien* children. “It’s not a very complementary first name. Kids will make fun of him. Or her.”

“Yes,” she said, recalling that decision as well, a Muff-Bermingham one and not from the Moon. That darn, lingering Moon, bearded and all. She briefly looks into the sky to see if she can spot it. No luck; too sunny today she reckoned. Full shine on.

The guest finally spoke. He wanted to make a deal to come back. He wanted a religion named for him, this Mr. X as he called himself. Xianity would do swell. He said he’d die to make it happen if it came to that. And it probably would given our history.

“Starve,” he said, choosing a course to do it certainly not involving a meal. “I’ll go out in the dessert and fast myself to death. If it comes to that.” The visions must be purified, he knew. “Desert,” he then amended. “Did I just say dessert? How fitting!” He laughed, probably in a good way. Ally, yes.

As they negotiated, the roaming Allans roared but kept their distance, instinctively knowing here was someone who could eventually defeat their dark overlord and set them free.

(to be continued)

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May 27, 2023 · 11:12 am

a lane to walk down

He never could remember which one was an Allosaurus and which one was a Tyranosaurus so he ended up just calling them both Allanosaurus, a catchy name that he couldn’t get rid of, *achoo*. Darn, lingering cold.

He had just finished wiping his nose when Jane stirred in the tent.

“Ohh, my *head*.” It was here she realized she had lost another baby which was the same as a ball. It was all play and pretend except it wasn’t.

“I had to give you a sedative so you’d sleep through it all,” Dr. Brown explained to his ground 00 patient, still waiting for that ball to turn blue so he could determine a sex. Else: this keeps happening. Waking up in the woods. With the dinos, Real Self far far away.

Jane remembers the 8 corners of space, the near (Moon) and the far (Muff-Bermingham). Trouble was, she couldn’t remember which is which, more memory condensing and overlapping. Like with the Allans, as Brown eventually, inevitably shortened the name to.

“I… *died*!”

“Yes, in a way. Your baby died. You died along with it. Except you didn’t. You are here.”

Jane managed to raise herself from the tent floor, look out the door. Dinos. Allans. Everything was here that was needed to understand. South America. Land of the Dead.

“Library,” she said.

“That too,” he admitted. “I suggest we read while we wait. Cut back the talk. No need to waste oxygen. You have them in your eyes as well. Just think of a book to read… and read.”

(to be continued)

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April 8, 2023 · 10:38 pm

beginning of the end

When they finally arrive it looks like they were expected. Aztec Warrior. Nikki. One and the same.

She steps out of the caravan missing a right hand. And a head, but never mind about that. We’ve seen that before anyway. Blonde as rope.

“Swastika?” Jer started, pointing. Benny giggled, just enough to be heard. Aztec Warrior went inside and produced a box, containing not a left handed gun to kill them, as they might have feared, but information. Mitford Unity. An error between the legs.

“She wants to be heard out,” states the handless one. “Your *Maw*.”

(to be continued)

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April 8, 2023 · 4:10 pm

Foxy

“Yes, my love. I mean my *lord*. The Hills have been exposed, one greater, one lesser. Just as you requested. The one opened up…”

(reply (in head))

“Yes, my… lord. At once.”

—–

7:06pm, in a secret rendezvous spot in Nightsity Harbour:

“He wants to invoke Horns of Hatton again, weight challenged brother of mine. Let’s try once more.”

“But… *Maw*.”

“She’s been overruled. The King is in charge now. The Devil, red as. And also, of course–”

“– our father,” completes Jerry. He pops his off, Ben does likewise. They exchange; they restick. Ben is no longer Ben but Jer. Jerry is no longer Jerry but Benny. Now all they have to do is find Lena the one who unites. They’d heard… Silver City, New Mexico, the place of the choppers.

—–

“Keep your eyes peeled, requested driving Jer to riding Benny. Grant County is big enough to hide someone for a while but not that big — not as big as it use to be. We’ll find her.”

“We will.”

“Maybe even try Tyrone next door.”

“Azure? Could she be (hiding) in Azure?”

“Blue.”

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April 7, 2023 · 8:58 pm

00370515

Blue Mountain from the slopes of neighboring Pink Peak, the actual namesake for the town it towers above. Not as much from the western direction we see here but more from the north. And to its north lies not a *barren* landscape bereft of humans but comparatively so. I might be heading there next; who knows where I’ll end up. Lower Pink Peak might be closing up for the spring, what with the early encroachment of poison ivy and, quickly following behind it, other bothersome woodsy aspects like snakes and bugs thanks to a mild winter here in the NC mountains. And despite a fairly cold March much to my disappointment. I spotted some poison ivy coming out on the town’s greenway 2 days ago, about the soonest I remember it sprouting. Use to be, I swear, the *end* of April I’d start seeing it instead of more toward the beginning. But maybe its just a weird spring, and the plants are confused because of all the odd weather, hot then cold, hot then cold. But overall pretty mild still, like I said. I can’t help but think of the advancement of global warming…

That night I found a figurine of one of Batman’s archvillains Poison Ivy staring menacingly in the same direction as similarly green Kick-Ass in a Nightsity comic book store display case. The night before this we observed Edward ordering a kick-ass grasshopper, his regular, from bartender Lexi at the seedy Nightsity establishment he runs for Ben Left Horn, formerly Jer Left Horn in these here photo-novels, 37 in a series so far.

Turning to leaves, there are precisely 3 population places named Leaf in the US, the same amount as found on a poison ivy plant. One of these is in Greene County, Mississippi, and whose only notable person, according to wikipedia, is named Lloyd *Green*, a pretty famous steel guitarist featured on Ken Burns’ “Country Music”. Also according to wikipedia as I found out this morning, villain Poison Ivy uses the power of an interplanetary force known as Green for the purposes of her ecoterrorism.

Why does Edward order a drink named kick-ass from a bar in the same town as a comic book store featuring the wannabe superhero? What is Shelley being tempted into by wearing a “Crazy Blue” outfit, another type of uniform if not a wet suit? Does formerly blue clad Duke Blue Devil Grant Hill still drink Sprite? Does it still quench his thirst? And what of his less famous and less tall Duke basketball running mate Thomas Hill, who won a national championship with him in ’91 and ’92? Hills again — peaks, higher and lower. The only way to figure out more is to go inside again.

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April 7, 2023 · 2:42 am

left is right

“You don’t understand these people, Shelley. They are *powerful*. He’s over there with his new girl, *plotting* things. Things that can’t be stopped.”

“*I’m* his new girl,” said unruffled Shelley to this, assuming a cute pose in her seat opposite Edward. Ben Left Horn and Mona sat across from them in the balcony area. Indeed they were plotting, or at least Ben was plotting and Mona was acting as a sounding board for his ideas. She was good that way. Ben thought she might be a keeper, one of the true harem he was collecting down through the years. And Shelley… perhaps the new queen, he thought. Queen of the cats.

“If you put back on that Crazy Blue outfit you’ll be gone to me, to the world at large,” Edward continued. “This place, this Nightsity, will suck you in.”

“What do you care? Surely,” she thought aloud, “surely not for the benefit of *Arthur* after all you’ve done to him.”

“*You’ve* done to him,” he retaliated, then got back to the main subject. “*Don’t* take the gig, Shelley. You don’t know where it will lead you.”

I want… adventure, she thought, thinking of boring, stuck-in-the-mud Arthur. The Arthur who gasped at every sentence of the draft of her 5th novel, not believing what he was reading. What did he expect? she thought. He was gone *most* of the time these days. It will all come to a Shakesperian end, she surmised, but then quickly forgot — backtracked. Running away from the sunset, running toward the moon, no matter how full and blood red it was, indicating warning. Arthur was still her hubbie, her lubbie wubbie. Edward was just a distraction while he was away on the Omega continent. *Corsica* continent, she then reminded herself, confusing lies with truth again. *I’m* the one involved with Omega, she quickly remembered. Lonelyheart Publishers. They said to *juice* it up a bit — that’s what all those lonely housewives want. An *escape*, and a steamy one at that. So she had to write more detail, each novel becoming more graphic and revealing than the one before. That was the development. She tried to pretend it was deeper characters, twistier plots. But at the bottom she was seeing the writing clear. DEMO. DEMON. Satan at the middle, doing what he does best. Black Lake; starless.

“You know he use to go by Jer,” Edward said to fill the void. “He and his brother switched names, just to confuse the lot of us, the readers I suppose.” He looks for the 4th wall with this, to no avail.

“Horns?” said Shelley.

“Those too.”

(to be continued)

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April 6, 2023 · 2:25 pm

Ben

“Oh it’s a God awful outfit, this Crazy Blue.”

(reply)

“*No* I’m not going to keep wearing it. I just tried it on just for laughs and giggles. If anyone was here looking at me, what they’d be doing.”

(reply)

“Well, that’s very kind I suppose. But it comes off in a moment.”

(reply)

“Just stop it, *you*.”

—–

“Is she gone yet?” asked the bigger boss about the singer Edward Daigle was suppose to fire today. They were out on the docks to afford more privacy. Plus it was a starless and bible black sky, nothing to distract from fully enjoying a blood red moon.

“Not quite. I’m letting her work out her shift before telling her.”

“But it has to be today,” the bigger boss reinforced. “Someone else is coming in. She doesn’t know it yet but she is.”

Edward had a pause. The bigger boss was flirting with Shelley just yesterday as she still clung to his arm. What’s that girl up to? Could it be?

“Who?”

“Oh you know her. You know her well.”

*Gulp*.

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April 6, 2023 · 3:19 am

00370512

“Still in Nanon Sweet Morning light in the room in the room, box springs are broken next to hand springs. Colorado.

“The place: BIONaz Gulch (sim) next to Snowmass near Woody Creek. Colorado. Woody Woodmanson loves Snow — comes from that land and sometimes hung out with fellow native Snowmanster and then seems, later on, to himself animate a snowman after moving back to Collagesity with the rest of the Baker family in photo-novel 04.”

“Let me guess (for the 3rd): Colorado.”

“Correct.”

—–

“We could go with several but let’s use Jack Torrance leaning against a Colorado map in Kubrick’s “The Shining” while disabling a ham radio, head appearing to touch a location called Cannibal or Canibal Plateau.

“Kubrick did this to indicate Jack is actually a wannabe cannibal in the film, as foreshadowed by him talking about the Donner Party LINK in the scene where he, with his family, approached the evacuating Overlook Hotel to take over as winter caretaker.”

“Mountain air,” says Wheeler to this. “I’m soo sleepy (!).” She mimics Wendy’s yawn in the film again just before Jack’s Donner Party exposition.

And so we return.

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