Wolvie investigates an old Bigfoot location and finds it intact.
Along with the associated Roberts and Franklin Private Eye Investigators Ltd. in not one but two locations.
He’ll have to make a choice soon. ‘Nother one.
(to be continued)
Category Archives: Midlands
00460113 (letting the butterflies loose)
https://bakerbloch.com/2022/07/30/00340113/
—–
“Soo, why are we back here again, Jack? Pink again?”
“Yeah,” responds Jack the Dogg, his 1/2 brother and also bestest friend in the world. Unless it’s Todd. “And you know what that means?”
“Errr,” went Fink, once more sloow to catch on.
—–
15 minutes later, after earning another F- on the new quiz.
“I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy!”
You certainly aren’t, thinks the newest iteration of Princess Pinky Gumm in Our Second Lyfe dominating above him but, of course, biting her tongue. Fink remains a powerful ally. And friend.
Now to deal with Art and Ed, she thinks; break the bad news to the duo so use to having their way up to this point. The buck stops here.
She looks to the sky and thinks of all the power she has. 319.
(to be continued)
00420107 (allies?)
He wouldn’t reach out to him if it weren’t desperate times. “I need your help, Cpt. Americus, with these two loud mouth *goof* balls I’m currently house sitting for. The manor should be mine — *will* be mine. Are you in, wannabe superhero? Or are you out?”
“Let me finish this bucket of grey matter chicken and I’ll be able to decide,” he requests, and takes another bite. Slow chews. Sloooww.
There, he can feel it working again. His brain.
“Count me in,” he said as the last bit of gristle disappeared into his mouth, also the last of the magically produced chicken. Oh look. A whole new batch of pieces to consume when he looks down again. The Mann could be waiting a while. He’d forgotten about the bottomless bucket, an isolated superpower.
“Hold on, I suddenly forgot what we were talking about; remind me of the deal again?” he said as the munching and crunching began anew.
“Never mind Cpt.,” The Mann decided. “I’ll have to get back to you — another meeting, you see.” He didn’t plan to get back to him. This part of the search was to be closed up like an abandoned dangerous mine with its own bottomless pit.
—–
“Spaced Ghost,” he said to the next. “You’ve been with us since before the beginning, it seems. Surely *you* understand the power I desire. You can be there too. Sitting alongside me… and Parasol.” The Mann wasn’t quite sure how Spaced Ghost was young again, since his son Baker Bloch was nearing 67 years old now. Had to be 95-100. But here he is, shiny cape and shiny teeth and youthful physique. He didn’t question it, though. He was told he resided at the Shakespear’s Club in Centre County PA. Maybe the location was magical and gave him youth. He’d heard about such things associated with places named for The Bard. Like that ghost town near Lordsburg NM (revitalized in novel 39).
But when he teleported in to the proffered landmark, the only club he could find was the one slung over Young Spaced Ghost’s shoulder, as in a vintage Shakespear Gary Player Black Knight #2 Wood from the 1970s.
“I liked this place because they had a picture of me up on the wall there,” he started. “Don’t know when it was replaced by these collages or whatever they are.” He stared at one called “Doc’s Art”, wondering what it meant and the technique used.
“Yeah, sorry about that, Spaced Ghost. But about the deal…”
“Me and Zorak and Moltar — all 3 of us together. Boy I miss those days. Ghost Planet.” He sighs.
“So… about those nincompoops I’m dealing with,” directed The Mann again. “The Dynamic Du–”
“Regaltown: gone,” Spaced Ghost continued with the nostalgic lamenting. “Horns of Hatton: energy dissipated. We don’t have much left in Our Second Lyfe to cling on to. Might as well all pack up and head to the Red Dead Planet. Maybe we can make it into another Ghost Planet or something. We’ve already had several tries. I guess you’ve heard about them. Libra Neptune, the owner of the course I’m heading to after this. St. Dennis — son Scorpio Pluto told me all about it. Said they got there through a streetcar and he hadn’t heard back in a while. Said he’s ready to go over too once the portal’s stabilized; sell the golf course here and then recreate it over there in a better way.”
St. Dennis? The Mann thought. Portal? Suddenly he had more to mull over than revenge on some old, irritating neighbors. A whole new world was opening up.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0107, Corsica, Instabar^, Jeogeot, Midlands, New Mexico, Pennsylvania, RDR2
00370317
They had opened the book, they were reading the script. Their brains had become like one, minds fused. They read together, one with the left eye and the other the right. Coordination. Military people at the top of it this time. Eastwesterners.
They read about Archie…
Biff Carter withdrew the book from the camera, stared into it, smiled.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0317, Hana Lei^^, Jeogeot, Middleton^, Midlands, Sand Springs, Towerboro
checking in with collage artist Barry Deboy (Mountainair)
I’m not sure what the new story will be but I’m pretty certain it will involve The Void, the place before birth, after death. The satchel contains secrets in its pages.
Nearby Baker Bloch stares into the water. Tough to tell if he is asleep or not. In a way he has to be — we all do. To even exist on this plain of reality. He dons the red cap of an artist again.
43 bucks should cover it for this wannabe cowboy of the plains.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0103, collages 2d, Google Street View, Jeogeot, Middleton^, Midlands, New Mexico
… on with the show
“Thanks for coming over, Baker Bloch.”
“Zapppa, please. With an extra p please.”
“Sure, sure,” Wheeler responded, a common reply for the generally agreeable gal these days. She’s mellowed over time. She’s comfortable with her power as chief female of the blog and the photo-novels. She can morph into others and still be secure in her identity. Like Eyela. “Anyways, Franklin, eh? What’s that all about??”
“I thought you said there was a picture involved.”
“Keep up, darling. We’ve already talked about that.”
He rubs his bald head some more, eyes the referenced picture again through his blue and red lenses. Spaced Ghost when he was young. The chief male of the blog’s father. Now he’s old. Old old. With a cane. Might have to shift into a wheelchair even soon. Yes, they talked about the picture, Baker Bloch’s father, already. Before the start of this post. On to other subjects. “Franklin, yeah,” he relents, firmly in the present now. “A mystery. Ouroboros.”
“Cradle to grave — in the same place. Accident, some say. Meaningful, others would determine. Like us. Especially…”
“Especially,” he finished for her, “since we didn’t plan it that way. I was just digging up the most relevant grave to our story in that cemetery. The one you directed me to be in. At 32/32.”
“Correct, but Baker Blinker was actually directing that scene, since she’d recovered from her mysterious illness already. Hmmm… mystery again.”
“Donald *predicted* this.” Zapppa points in the direction he thinks Towerboro lies from this central Jeogeot location. “Just up the road here. We could visit him together; ask him some more questions.”
“I was heading back to Big Woods,” Wheeler replied, “but what the heck. Let’s go.” She gets up to leave. “Goodbye Spaced Ghost,” she says while waving at the picture on the wall behind the counter. Zapppa waves weakly as well. They head north not south tonight, then. Unexpected once more. But the unexpected has firmly become the expected, so…
00340113
Turns out the duck had as many varied talents as his new master, including the ability to wheel and deal at a rapid pace. He quickly garnered the job of chief salesperson at the local car dealership. John, attached to him by the ankle and neck and some other places, had to tag along. He mainly played jigsaw puzzles on his phone while the other worked. A few hours each night, he was free to roam the streets of town and explore while the other slept. This is when he secretly rendezvoused with Martha and had a chat with the Wizard through that wegee board of hers. W-I-Z-A-R-D it began, announcing the spirit.
Meanwhile, over in Jeogeot Wheeler is surrounded by rainbow colored butterflies.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0113, Jeogeot, Midlands, Wendy-Ontario
basement dwellers
Wrong side of the road.
—–
We watched from afar (right side of road). “This is where I got my butterflies,” she spoke over, hovering beside me. “You can have some too!” I didn’t need that kind of thing. I needed answers.
“Why are we here?” I cut to the chase. “Jeogeot, I mean. I thought Nautilus (continent) was our focus now. But as soon as we abandoned Collagesity it seems the energy drained away from it. So that would be novels 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 focused on that continent. But now…”
“You need to tell *this* tale because no one else will or can. Else… everything lost.”
Middletown, I assumed.
—–
I looked across the small Linden pool of water at the significant amount of land I could rent. I knew it was coming: the unleashing of MOA again. But not yet. Nautilus remains the one, the tentacled sphere locked away down in the castle’s dungeon. If head librarian Miss Ouri hadn’t already destroyed it. Will check as soon as I get back.
—–
No. Still there.
Oh. Hi me.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0105, Jeogeot, Midlands, Nautilus, NORTH, Rooster's Peninsula
Sunklands 