Category Archives: 0602

102

“This is the scene in Picturetown right when Bart Smipson should have been skating across main street on his way, as it turned out, to the game arcade where he does the big switcheroo and comes out in NWES City, Hucka D. Perhaps he is in front of the white truck here. Dangerous!

“But wait! Looky over there to the left (beyond the chatting girls at the corner who must have seen him skate by). A *single* tiger now where we had two staring before, or at least one eye apiece of two tigers. I know because this is in a collage composed for the last photo-novel. Behold!

“And here’s the full tiger, now whole, of the current scene. I’m not even sure I should be showing this, I don’t know, *time-skip* in the blog.

Hucka?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0602, Canada/Picturetown

Snowmanster

He was dreaming again, hence the tie. “This is a little f-ed up,” he said to the woman nearby, who didn’t reply. No, he didn’t like this place. He had found a limit. Wendy would not be his daughter or something. He’d leave all that to Toothpick and Elberta and their Deep South ways (!). He’d have to talk to Eraserhead Man about this shoot, compare it to DaBob in that other production he worked in, the one less famous. Or was it more famous. Snap out of it, snap out of it! he cried inside while snapping his fingers, which, of course, passed through each other. Tarboo Bay, DaBob, The Twins… they were all together; all in on this. What does it mean? He better get Wendy to safety and out of the shiny light of revealing film while she’s still wearing that dress. He knows a guy who knows a guy in Snowlands who has a remote-ish cabin kind of tucked away in some small woods, getting smaller by the month but Barry DeBoy doesn’t know that in the present. He’d only find out about the deforestation of Purden in the future through a rogue Snowman gone good instead of the usual bad but still with a bad Santa, one called Satan, an obvious anagram (too obvious). The Snowman’s name is… well, let’s just wait. Regular readers of this here blog and derivative photo-novels probably already know the name. Let’s just make it the title of this here post.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0602, Hana Lei^^

hooker

He cracks a window and then cracks another to stare out at the linden woods bordering this place. Samantha’s Place. He knew this silhouette of a woman with the dangerous curves came between the private dick in the trench coat — the real gravitas behind surface, buffoonish Wendell “Biff” Carter — and the owner of the magic shop over in Colona with the green geode that Jeffrie Phillips took back to Teepot to “mate” with his smaller pink one to complete the circle and symbolically unite the twinned cities. That’s why the former didn’t want to talk about the later, despite 2 requests to do so in case the first was missed. It was a dame, in retro-speak.

Samantha was also the same as New Nun, a disguise that perhaps she forgot she was wearing, like a mask. New Nun knows. Rhodes > Roads.

The Colona man formerly had a herb shop over in Cassandra City. The private, trench coated investigator now has his office *in this very spot*. He’s trying to complete a triangle, just like the A.Team did in this very same town before him. Scarlet Triangle. It was all there in black and blue. Somewhere.

The Man About Time raised himself up from the ground. The portal looked bigger from the outside

than the inside.

Typical. There would be no safe passage to the Amazon this night, but he knew that was death anyway. Speaking of which…

Just later the Man About Time deduced it also had something to do with this chimney, a Big Chimney indeed. He would have to take it apart brick by brick soon to find out what makes it tick. Clock? Bomb? (another one?)

—–

“So tell me about this Colona,” he requested mildly a bit more later to the man with the orange firebird burning in front of the hearth fire. “I know that Teepot use to be the twin city of Pietmond, long since destroyed, but now it seems to be this one.” He stared at the green geode on the mantlepiece, knowing Jeffrie Phillips hadn’t arrived yet. He should be due any moment. Or any century.

“Different,” uttered the man opposite him in a deeper, less mild voice. “Somewhat,” he amended. “Reason,” he spoke about the overlap, meaning there was a reason for it. “Absorption — *assimilation*.” MAT knew that New Nun had also been assimilated.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0602, Nautilus City^, Nautilus^^, Teepot^^

around Cassandra City

“Where is he?” Warhole demanded to the mechanical soothsayer. “Where’s Gabby?”

“You come — bearing the mantle of other people tonight, Andy War-HOLE. You have been talking to — *people* too much. You are too — *peoplely*.”

“Well, yeah. What of it? I’m an artist. I have to mingle. Socializing sells art. That’s what I’m about. Baby.” He checks his watch with this. Gabby should have been here 20 minutes ago! He needs help.

—–

“Oh I look hideous,” Poetry Dancer complained to Marilyn.

“Won’t take long dearest (*coo*). We’ll have you looking, *exactly* like one of us in a jiffy, darling (*ooo!*).”

—–

“No sir, you don’t understand. We sell *one* book. The red one.” You’ll have to go to the other bookstore in town for “Moby Prick”.

“Aww, *geez*.” Dimmy Gene’s book review was due tomorrow, and now he has to walk all the way across town to get a copy and start reading.

—–

“It’s no good,” Gabby complains at the typewriter with its inserted, still blank sheet of paper. “I need people to write!” Long lunch break’s over. He better head back to the wagons.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0602, Cassandra City^, Maebaleia/Satori^^

irreality

She carefully checked her inventory. She had only 1 even satisfactory picture of it, a polaroid taken almost 2 months back now. Nothing worthy of showing former photography (and calligraphy) teacher Tom Banks for artistic reasons. But still, very *meaningful* to her.

A solid lime green car, formerly in the very back of the backyard of her neighbors the Hendersons who had since moved to even greener pastures. She thought she might make a poem about the object; call it “Lemon”.

There was no feined variation of hue
Lime green it was through and through
A car of such utter solidity
That it brought into question the rest of the city

It was a start at least. Her inspiration for the title, a Warhol print pointed out to her by Brown (Beige):

And now Tom Banks is accused of killing Gene Kelley (aka Jake Trimmer aka Mr. Fix It) behind another lemon of a truck, as he called it that day of the killing, in front of Brown and herself no less at his gas station. Of course they didn’t understand the circumstances at the time — couldn’t grasp the gravity of the moment. Now it weighed on her mind constantly, and she turned back to the other lemon in town, that queerly solid hued car behind the Henderson’s house, almost hidden within a small grove of trees there. The two *had* to be connected. But how?

She remembered being disappointed that the car was suddenly gone, followed by the Hendersons themselves. She never got to ask Gerald or Geraldine or Gerald Jr. or Geraldette about it, so quickly they left shortly after the sighting. But she has the polariod, she didn’t dream it up. A solid lime green auto. And now she suddenly feels that the town is empty without it, a shell of what it was. Growing pains are difficult. She better get down to SEAN at the beach, help him continue to move…

—–

“What are these, um, *eggs*?”

“Oh… just something I bought from some witch over in Egg Hill Sink,” Green replied to Pink, obviously thinking of Olive here.

There was only one egg, he understood now. And it was a nest version.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0602, Corsica^^, Storybrook^

call

“Hello, Axis? Hiya, it’s Ant here. (reply) No, Ant, not *your* Aunt — any of the many of ’em. *The* Ant. Listen, I have a proposition. We’re downsizing here at [Elephant’s Trunk] because of the possible upcoming recession and all — (reply) what’s that? (repeat reply) YES, they’ll be a recession, perhaps a depression, but I’m not too depressed about it, hehe — (reply) Huh? Easter? What? Does Easter come in *August* this year, haha. Always gets a laugh. (reply) Yeah, yeah I’m practicing for a standup comedy routine, ho ho. Okay, to business. Parasol, you know, the red and blue eyed gal — lives up in Splinterwood last I heard. No, make that Benangatron or Benny or whatever they call that vampire burg these days. (reply) Phyllis — that could be it. Anyway, she’s just itching and itching and scratching and even clawing me a bit to bring back The Man, you know, her husband. (reply) I don’t know *when* that happened. They just sprung it on me one day. Parasol showed me that big red and blue ring on her — (reply) What’s that? (repeat reply). *That’s* where they had their honeymoon? (repeat reply). I don’t know where that is, Axis. (reply) Say I’ll know soon enough, eh? Wise guy eh? (reply) Oh you’re smart all right. Anyway — lost my train of thought here. (reply) Yeah right, The Man — thanks. Listen I don’t have any more time to talk. Just set up a meeting with me at Fearzum. (reply) No, I don’t mean your *house*. I said Fearzum. We’ve been through this a 1000 times. Fearzom and Fearzum are *different* sims. Just so happens that both are connected to you, weirdly enough. (reply) Yes, I said *Fearzum*. Now this is important. Bring the *Sandman*. (reply) You heard me. Just bring him. I’ll take care of things on this end. (reply) Well thanks for that, and goodbye to you too. See ya.”

A click on the other end, disconnecting Axis to Ant.

Staring at the receiver, Ant talks over to the man also on the phone next to him. “Hey Stan? I don’t know how to hang this thing up. How do you hang it up?”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0018, 0602, Corsica^^, Northwest^

Times Square

Later, while working at the Residents Union Back rolling out dough with a pin, Phyllis (aka Cyber-Catwoman) ponders why she was so adamant about Gallery 7/10 not existing any longer to her partner Chip (Cyber-Catman) at Head’s — almost directly above her at this point.

Because the place of timelessness is *here*, she realizes, and freezes the pin in its tracks.

The dough must be curious what happened.

—–

Feng Sui and Qi: gone, Chip realized when teleporting in from the roof. He just substituted 26 for 61 and he was here. Chip was needing advice on how to put up with a woman he loved. Because the cyan colored opposite sex remained a total mystery to him. Indeed, FS and Qi could have helped, but they were currently preparing lunch for the uncles. The bullet holes remain unsealed, Store Zero’s past still open and bared for all.

Someone opens the door….

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0602, Kowloon^^

DEAD End Street

He wasn’t budging, this Big Black Smoke. “I have as much right to be here as you, red boy,” he declared from his cheap, green box seat. “You ain’t paying no rent.”  He settles back, crosses his arms behind his head. “Neither am I.”

Greg Ogden argued that he is about to pay the rent but is still trying the apartment out at times.

“Times what?” replies the larger, black man. “42?”

Greg didn’t know the answer to that. He didn’t know everything. He remained silent, contemplating whether to leave. But *he* had as much right to be here as Big Black Smoke.  This remained a stare down for now. He told him that.

“Hey,” then declared BBS. “You ain’t that red dude who’s going to marry that red haired gal in the church next door this coming Sunday? She’s been talking about you. About how you become cross sometimes.”

Greg said he wasn’t this person, although he likes to dress in red. Greg Ogden explains that he use to be a red mechanoid playing in a punk band with 2 other, differently colored mechanoids. “We got kicked out of Olde Lapara Towne due to a noise ordinance,” he furthered. “We came here to escape, to *hide* and regroup. But this place…”

“I know I know,” responded Big Black Smoke, looking around at all the red walls surrounding them. Like a cell. “This place changes you.” He was starting to feel sorry for the boy. “You know Golden Jim, the police chief? Don’t confuse him with Golden Joe. That’s a chef. You see what I mean about this town, boy? This New (Lapara) Towne? Same as the old town, hmph.”

Greg says he’s trying to leave but can’t. “Stewart’s dead,” he offered, nodding toward the window with the bay view. “Newton owns that ship out there now. That’s his brother.”

“I *know* who Newton is.” Big Black Smoke resisted the urge to call him ‘fool’, but he’s certainly trying to step off a ledge now. “You can’t leave once you stay here long enough.” Big Black Smoke had figured out who Greg Ogden was, and that this was his old apartment. Golden Jim had told him about the 2 Greg(g)s, one with the extra ‘g’, or, better (explained Golden Jim), the ‘g’ *stolen* from his last name. This theft bought him some jail time. Golden Jim wasn’t here then, but, again, this was legend. Like the day Pierre Schaeffer rode into town and stole all the Berries and took them off to La La Land. Even nimble Thimble couldn’t escape. Ahh, Thimble, thought Big Black Smoke, traveling back further in time to a thinner physique. Those were the days. The Dark Ages. I wish those old times could return. But Pierre changed all that. Him and the eye guy.

“This is *Jasper*, fool.” Big Black Smoke couldn’t help himself. “You’re stuck as much as those *flies* over in Central Park!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0602, Gaston^^

The Impossible Strawberry

“An agreement was reached, Hucka Doobie. Two realities, but then one reality. And it’s not the one that won.”

—-

“Bluebox…”

“Hills of Bill,” Hucka Doobie elaborated from behind once more, also looking at the map containing the former “Blue” galleries of Maebaleia/Satori on the 2nd floor of the house. “Center.”

“… then Blue Feather.”

“North.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0015, 0602, Golden Sink^, Maebaleia/Satori^^

Bunkie

“We could use the rocket for good instead of evil,” Cindy A. spoke over to Jim A. after straightening her hair. She had recently been influenced by a book she’d been reading. A famous trip to the Moon.

Jim A. laughed at this. Todd A. joined him. Yoko, having done the deed and brought them all together as a sealed, signed triangle, had slithered away again into the web of time with no rosy prognostication in sight.

“2 rockets will do it — we all agree?” It was Todd A. this time, manager of the project.

“We can send the 1st and see what happens,” offered Jim A. “Gauge the reaction before moving forward with the second.”

Cindy A. was getting sick to her stomach. What had she set in motion?

But they had trained for this. It was always going to be. Forward in time, and then backwards in time to the original point. Cassandra City. Home. But the hitherto thought of home  — Pipersville, at least in its original form as Chip Shot: doomed. Worse than doomed.

“How far to be accurate? Would we, say, have to go all the way north to Regaltown to effect the launch?” Todd A. again. “What say you mathematician of the group?”

Jim A. spoke up. “As close to the Neutral Zone as we dare get.”

“How about Golden City?” Cindy A. reluctantly chipped in. The others readily agreed to the future hole. “They had remembered Chip Shot but not their own, retaliatory fate. Much worse it will be for them in the afterlife.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0014, 0602, Cassandra City^, Maebaleia/Satori^^