Category Archives: 0608

September 28, 2018 · 5:43 am

reanimator

It was time to confront Madame Silver at the main house. Ruby’s Democratic Empire must come into being *now* or else the perpetually 15 1/2 year old’s newly laid out plans might be in vain. She knew the experiments were ongoing going on.

—–

“Oooo, I’m getting more insights from the Big Brain, Axis.”

“Good, good,” replied her partner in crime, not looking over from his tests in the background. He’d seen all this so many times now. Contact with Braynard. “Now how do I make this Spider Baby come into being?”

“It’s the 200th,” Madame Silver says,” removing herself from the enabling head gear and turning toward him. “The brain must be aligned with the 200th. Unch. That’s what stabilizes The Diagonal. We’ll be able to recreate the forest *here*, then.”

“Well, cut me a choice piece of Briney’s specimen and bring it over. I’m recalibrating the coordinates on my end.”

“Alright.”

But as Madame Silver raises the knife to do as Axis says…

… her hand suddenly begins to quiver.

She quickly drops the blade on the floor and moves away from the precious brain.

“Ohhhhhh. Side effects coming!”

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July 17, 2018 · 5:35 am

Achilles

An invisible cartoon boy, Martha Lamb thinks, studying Falmouth 36 once more on the 4th floor of the Fal Mouth Moon gallery. Hugged and loved by a visible cartoon girl with red shoes. Perhaps they are future lovers, or perhaps brother and sister. Maybe he has a defect that hides him from view — a malady — but is loved by his sister still. Odd that I think this, she ruminates.

Then over here, further away in a field, the inversion: girl invisible and boy visible. The “E” on the next collage over blinks on and off. This *is* love; mutual exchanging.

If I could just *reach* into the collage… somewhere about… here.

Or is it here?

Here?

—–

So close yet so far. How to get from there…

… to here. Swish away the pain into the ice and snow and make it all go away. Football successfully kicked.

—–

“‘Copyright Protected Image’,” she read from the picture in front of her. “And to think I was going to get rid of all this in Collagesity, Sid my dearest. But now I think it is a gateway to the Great Beyond, fries and liquor be damned.”

“You shouldn’t say that about your church,” Sid offered. “You were so devoted to it before.”

She turned to him. “The Diagonal changed me, made me into a true woman. I was like two-dimensional before. *You* changed me.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that…”

“All that’s left is the hand and how to break through. Without pain. They say that there’s no gain without pain, but I’m thinking of something else.”

“Yeah, Martha. I need you to listen tonight.”

She went on. “It’s the 36th collage of this series all right. I’ve been studying it nightly for going on half a week now. The Diagonal is giving me energy to understand.”

Sid grabbed her hand in order to stop her. “Listen, Martha. We need to talk. About The Diagonal.” He let go of her hand. “We can’t use it in that way any more.”

“No?” Her voice was suddenly far away, as across a field.

“No,” he said firmly. “I need to tell you the story of who I really am, how I really got here. It all started with the firing.”

“Firing?” Tears formed in her eyes despite her efforts. “What firing?”

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April 29, 2018 · 10:57 am

heavy

“These pills are pretty good, Axis. Tasty. Say the Silver King machine just appeared over there tonight? Right before I arrived?”

“Right, Big Red. It’s an honor to have you here, by the way. The abduction process wasn’t too painful, I hope. Sometimes it is to those with the wrong energies.”

“Not atall. Time doesn’t exist here, eh?”

“Nor Beach,” completes Axis. “Only, um, Middle.”

Yes, he realizes. This is Middle. A new sandwich with something else inside; something beyond the spinning 78.

A sandwich appeared in Big Red’s mouth, loaded with innards.

“Interesting,” chirps Axis.

—–

In a control experiment, the next abductee was asked to read a specific chapter from a red book and found it fascinating and loaded down with meaning.

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February 9, 2018 · 8:15 am

Wastelands

Marion Harding sees those red and greenish lights above him again, but in a different location.

And he’s wasted as hell from the pot recently purchased from drug lord Santa God at The Octopus Ink.

“Who *are* you guys??”

“So we need to talk, Harry,” spoke Tonya Two Egg to the bleached face man sitting across from her. “About Annie. About a lot of stuff.”

“It’s not safe here,” he replied, then glances over at the giant bong to his right.


But no one was there.

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November 25, 2017 · 6:28 am

Switchies

Twelve at night; Biker Mann couldn’t sleep for a particular reason. Perhaps also the salmon they had for dinner wasn’t quite agreeing with him. While pacing back and forth upstairs he notices the Sunklands blog post on the media player of their apartment has changed. New title: “5×5 02”.

He puffs more rapidly on his Winston cigarette. “Well,” he huffs, “no need to wake Cyberpaperdoll for this one. Get her paper airplanes in a whirl again.”

He then recognizes a name on the map. Then, north of it, another. Then another and another. It was a county cornucopia.

Biker Mann suddenly has a different form. And a different name. Roger Pine Ridge, with an avatar complexity of 11111.

“This map is old,” are the first words he mutters in Our Second Lyfe.

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September 24, 2017 · 7:33 am

Jacob 01

Jacob the Lawnmower was trimming and harvesting the grass around the highest sand dune with the castle when suddenly he was someplace else altogether.

Something big was sniffing his right ear.

And up the wooden stairs, an ickle, white in color and cubic in shape.

He derezzes the now useless mower and heads up to the tree, trying to gain perspective.

“You can stop clutching now,” the simple ickle suggests. “You are no longer a mower. You are no longer anything. Welcome to the Land of Infinite Possibilities. Did I say infinite — I always do that. *Finite* Possibilities. But very broad and rangy possibilities nonetheless.” He paused, studying the guest more, the dilated eyes, the psychedelic, swirly green t-shirt. “What is your name, man?”

“Jacob,” came the answer in a plain voice. He almost said Jacob the Lawnmower but caught himself. He also stopped clutching. “I desire nothing except the grass and the wind.” Jacob then remembered another thing he desired. “And paper.”

“Rolling paper?” the ickle guessed correctly. “We have caves stocked with paper just for that purpose. “But — and this is the clincher, Jacob, so pay attention — we have no *grass.*”

Jacob looked around, seeing plenty of grass, if not exactly the mowing variety.

“Yes, yes,” the ickle explained further. “We have grass but not grass grass. The weed variety. Our grass is not weed… Mary Jane.”

“I am sad I cannot get high,” a high pitched pink bunny-ickle added from a nearby landscape depression.

“Nor me,” ventured a deep throated cuckoo-ickle from the base of the tree further up. “Come here, man, and descend down this spirally green hole to help aid us. It’s a worm tunnel going all the way to Jupiter. Trust us, man. It’s groovy.”

Jacob studied the tunnel using remote viewing. Seemed harmless enough, so he walked past the square white bird, uttered a quick, “see you guys,” and went in.

A 100+ pound weight then fell on the depressed bunny-ickle, crushing her to suds.

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July 8, 2017 · 12:13 pm

Another 02

Woody had justed booted up his computer when he saw it outside. “Hmm, I don’t remember that being there before.” He went out to check.”

—–

“Come over here Snowy Snowmanson. See what you can make of this.” The recently animated snowman complied.

“Another key world, you say? Just what *I* was thinking. It says ‘sit to enter’ in the text on the top. Shall we?”

“Whoa, Snowy. Where are we *now*??” Woody looks around at the landscape between the buildings. “Is this *Mars*?”

—–

Woody next took Baker Bloch up. “No, it isn’t Mars,” he expresses. “I think it might be Muff. Wheeler has given me some graphic details about the place she and The Musician were trapped in for a while last month. This looks like what she was talking about. Sealston, eh? Maybe another world within a world.”

“Snowy thinks a key is here. We have an opinion.”

Baker Bloch glances over at the snowman, taking its recent animation in stride. Woody has powers, yes. “Please share.”

Woody begins. “The central avenue — not boulevard — of the sealed sity heads directly to the big cave mouth, yes?” Baker didn’t know this, but agreed anyway. “Yet you cannot reach the mouth because of the force field surrounding us. Sealston is named for a reason. And there’s another, different building next to the cave, gray as well. You cannot reach it either. We are inside. They are outside. But if you look closely — here, better walk over and I’ll show you. Snowy, you stay here next to the entrance point and alert us if anyone else comes up.”

—–

“See, this avenue –2nd Avenue Snowy and I are calling it — ends at the outside building. The next one over, 1st or Main or Central — Snowy desires Central or Main, I say First…”

“Go on,” encourages Baker.

“… is the one that leads directly to the cave. But this building is sealed up as well. If you look closely, the rocks around the cave seem to block up its only entrance. So what does that mean?”

Baker didn’t know. But he did understand that this “cave” could be the portal back to Bermingham, as Wheeler also described. Tronesisia might not need that rocket ship to find Bendy after all. Better break the news gently to Karoz. He’s worked so hard on it the past week.

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March 3, 2017 · 8:47 am

War

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“Wow, it’s really quite desolate in here,” says Wheeler, truly impressed with the views at Purden Center.

“I wouldn’t quite put it that way,” states a standing Snowmanster behind her, giving up the attempt to coax Core-Alena into speaking with them. “I think it’s a no go today, Wheeler,” he continues. “Sometimes that happens with the daytime talkie trees. They have good days and bad days, just like the rest of us. The night trees are a bit different, a bit more psychic and often, um, darker. Sinister I guess I should put it.”

“Where’s that dummy of yours?” Wheeler asks crudely of Woody Woodmanson.

“Dunno,” replies Snowmanster. “Perhaps in the gorge looking for frozen corpses. That’s where the Santas often dump them.”

“Interesting about all these Santas, some good some bad. Some kind, some evil. But mostly evil. That’s not what I’ve heard about your Christmas from sources.”

“Yes, they are probably the most popular demons of this Second Lyfe. Snowmen like me are up there as well. I think my snowy fiend-friend Chucky still lives over in Meribel.”

“Well let’s just go see the college over there,” suggests Wheeler. “Instead of just dawdling here getting cold. Let’s go see another ‘snowy’. Let’s *move*.”

“Alright, alright,” says Snowmanster, matching the tone of Wheeler’s voice. He then kneels down in front of Core-Alena again. “We’ll be back my friends. We need your help now to tell us where to go, what to do.”

“Please help us Core-Alena, you’re our only hope,” Wheeler mimics in a high pitch voice, and then titters. “Star Wars” was known all over the galaxy.

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—–

Snowmanster was vastly disappointed to find Meribel College apparently no longer existed, grounds vacated. All that remained was Three Star Tree formerly standing outside the witches’ dorm. Three black stars. Wheeler stared at it for some time, deep in thought.

snapshot8830_013

She could kill Snowmanster right now, she machinated, slash his throat at almost the exact spot where she similarly killed Plain Wayne all those years ago. She helped Mid Hazel then and now the old witch is returning the favor in the present — finally. She failed the first time with the fire, but Snowmanster must die. He must never be reunited with his true family Spongebub and Snowbob. Because that might end the Green-White War which must go on forever and ever. And ever.

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