Category Archives: Little Hell

00480608

“You know, I’m kind of tired of all this, Wendy of hot dog restaurant fame. I think I’m going home. I think I’m going over to Nada’s tonight instead of staying here. I think I’m… leaving.”

But Wendy didn’t care. Wendy was merely a stand in for another. Again.

—–

—–

“How was Little Hell today, Philip?” Frank asked while they were gathered together once more around the dining table at suppertime. Or thereabouts. Frank just assumed he wouldn’t go to Heaven. The 2, upper level doors to his high castle in the skies labelled such don’t naturally swing that way for him, being an Id figure and all. Disposable by the end (of the game) as stated.

“Oh. The usual. Think I’m going down to the coast tonight for my r&r, though. See if Nada is still hanging around Lexi’s place.”

“Good idea.” Mouse was absent from the castle too, having gone back to the Amazon’s cement pond to confer with Pansy about more YouTube Poop possibilities. He knows now that the rest of New England is key for the movement of the main castle down through the states (of consciousness?). Now maybe Frank can enjoy a little peace and quiet about the place. Maybe time to call up Daisy, ask her how her day’s been at the bar. And remind her of that *third* date. Because tonight, he felt, was the night, Miss Mistletoe 2025 and her waiting lips being more a distant thought than ever. He knew about her real life Nigerian origins with the mother priestess and all, and her continuation of that ancestral calling in virtual Rodentia. He knew that the father had something directly to do with the out-of-this-world Non she wanted to develop, and why she came to Jeogeot’s only inland sea of Nawt Vaya in the first place. She’d heard about the alcoholic sea monster, what issues for the Hole in the Wall it caused. An opening had been revealed. Non-alcohol would be all they could serve, which slotted in perfectly for her plans of Our Second Lyfe dominance in that department. All has been revealed about the family that needs to be. Time for a different kind of revealing, of a more intimate type. Frank was ready. Now the question on his mind is: was Daisy ready for this kind of commitment?

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00480402 (Gerald in The Pool of Waters)

He was finished with Little and was ready for Big. What a fine specimen of a man, Dr. Alexis thinks while he passes and disrobes again at the larger of the 2 pools in this area of the temple, a tag-along colleague of Dr. Tom and also somewhere where she wasn’t suppose to be. Studying bodies in the wrong way, non-scientific that is.

“Ladies, mind if I join you?” he asked while dipping in, eliciting girly titters all around.

She didn’t even know the name of some of the body parts where his scars were located. Perhaps a quack as well? (TBC?)

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00480401

She was at 90 degrees again but at least she was in the right time this place and not 3 years in the past. She’d caught up with him: Dr. Tom.

He was watching one of his patients dance, inappropriately enough, ‘nuf said about that. We’ve visited this location before. The land of the purple cubes, purple in general. Couches and all. ‘Nother one. This is the touristy part; we probably don’t want to know what goes on in other areas. A captured pawn (one (Alpha)) falls off the table between chess playing Fisher and Rigg. Oregon.

And we have a name, thanks to Delaware: Little Hell. Yes, Dr. Tom fits right in. (TBC)

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00480202

“Investigation?”

“Yeah, like Perry Mason. We… probably have to bring back Duncan A. if so.” I hesitated because I knew [baker b.] would be uncomfortable with this. The Green Dude was suppose to be dead, like that guy in the blue and yellow teepee also initialed A. But yet he lives. And so, probably, does Duncan. A way to remember him by.

—–

“I know this man!” says Martell Mandell out loud. She couldn’t help it. “Tom!”

“Harry, actually,” Abby Abdominator across from her mildly corrected. “Harry the Bartender. Projection,” he tried to explain the confusion as best as possible.

“We’ve got to send him back. We’ve got to go back inside!”

“Indeed,” responded the grey alien who doubled as her boss at Star Team Interplanetary located in the southern part of the Omega continent. One of the higher ups but not the highest. That would be Dick.

(to be continued)

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00350706

“So, Residents of Paradise Lost, we, Shelley and I, head back to Omaha, which is in Oklahoma after all!”

“You’ll never make it!” shouted Fern below, reunited with Lichen since the latter was finished with her horse subplot. Poor Liz. “Wrong state, buddy!” she clarified.

But Abbey Abdominator, the Grey who was also several other people of this town, as in an actor playing multiple roles in the same film,* knew exactly how this thing worked… and ended. “So long everyone!” he said as the balloon rose into the sky and he expertly maneuvered it due north, soon enough dwindling to a point and gone as the few townspeople gathered on the rooftop at the launching pad kept staring….

Shelley snapped awake, pulling away from The Void, The Emptiness. Arthur, she immediately thought. I’ve got to tell Arthur!

—–

*SEE: Harry/Jerry, MessiaenSphere, Wizard Wells, Big Boy, Billy Bloodsworth, others

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00350705

“We demand to see The Wizard!” spoke Lichen and Liz together after marching into the room, trotting into it even.

“Wizard?” replied receptionist Cathy Catchulater. “Oh. You mean *Abs*. The Wizard *boss*.”

“Well,” said Lichen for the both of them, being the eldest by 10 or 15 years or days, “that could be him I suppose. What does he look like?”

Cathy showed them a picture she had ready for the question.

“Yeah,” she sighed and peered over at also onlooking Liz. “I suppose that’s him.” Alien, she thinks. Grey even. What have we gotten ourselves into??

“Have a seat on a cube, any cube,” said Cathy C. “He should be with you in about 10 or 15 minutes or days. Just kidding. He’ll see you now. He was waiting for you. President’s Ball.”

“Presidents?” uttered Liz, quite lost by now. She was into the whole horse persona deeper than Lichen, who had escaped the iciest clutches of The Void. Seeing this, Lichen ditched her own, got rid of the plume, harness, that *tail*, yeck.

“Now *you*,” she commanded over as the confusion lifted. Freedom!

——

But Liz didn’t have the guts to do it, fear retaking the reigns. She stood up from the cube and took a seat at the mirror in the guts of the town, waiting, like her equine fellows, for the next customer, hopefully a fellow this time. Because, unlike most of the batty people around her, the *inmates*, she wasn’t a switch hitter. Heck, she wasn’t even a pinch hitter, needing out in the worstest way. However her story is more complicated than the rest, perhaps, and we’ll have to wait till a future photo-novel to find out more about our lovely Liz, our beacon of hope. Goodbye for now! And the best of luck until you find an opening. Hold onto Trixy — she’s a dear. And Betty, despite her faults (like long and unexplained hiatuses from the, er, set), has a heart of gold. Argent — stay away from her, despite the name symbolizing purity as well. And Angel will act as a mother figure to you all. Build your imaginations. Pretend that you are somewhere far away with someone very special indeed, without warts and awful battle wounds and all those other things you will encounter. Stay strong, stay brave!

“Next!” calls Angel from the front room.

“That’s you,” Trixy says softly from the bed beside her.

“‘Bout time,” gruffed Argent with crossed arms in the corner. Think that’s it. Betty was in a different game this week exploring San Andreas.

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wheel (red-violet opposite yellow-green)

“You look troubled, Harry.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Yes. For using my real name. Amanda.”

“Yes, thank you too. I understand the frustration sometimes.” Juanita doesn’t look off-screen for direction, thought Jerry within Harry here. She goes with the punches. She’s a winner(!).

“The only thing worse than a child actor is an actor acting like a child,” Harry says, still improvising, still venting.

“So true,” Amanda replies.

—–

“Should we stop them? asked Thomas behind the scenes to Kurt, knowing when Jerry gets on a roll like this it could run a while. Look at “Mission Impossible”.

“No, we can edit later,” director Kurt Strawb, a 1/2 himself, says back to his assistant on the set. “Let him say what he wants to say. Heck, this is about the only time he’s actually acting, you know. During the ad-libs. He gets into them, lets his personality go.”

“I hear ya.”

—–

“5,000 dollars, Amanda? Try *50*, as in 50,000. That’s what my daily debts are up to.”

——

“So true to real life,” spoke Thomas, marveling at the acting that wasn’t much of an act atall.

—–

Across the room:

“Would you look at him over there, *acting* like nothing has happened. Do you know how much that weasel bastard owes me? Do you want to wager a guess?”

Tom and Jerrie (different!) stay quiet. Sam the Taker who is also Sam the Toker is on a roll too. 10 ones? Try one. As in: one. It was all a ruse, a scam.

(to be continued)

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00350703 (one off)

Inky McOilwell just before getting fired, then terminated. Didn’t see or hear the leak behind her on Sunday’s Tuesday’s Thursday of last week’s Monday’s Wednesday. The specific day was Friday I believe, unless it was Saturday. Unhappy for Inky whatever.

Despite the loss, the ridge rig kept working, thanks in part to today’s fresh recruits…

… like Ginger here, just come over from the satellite base in Azzlebury and preparing for her 10th bath of the day.

And… is that Franklin watering the plants over there? She’s alive (!).

Jesus, Lichen and Liz in their horse costumes coming through the gate now too!

—–

Fern felt she was still 1 step ahead of them, despite the progress. “What did I do to you to deserve this is all I want to know,” the fellow boat riding minion spoke up to them from his tight fitting cage.

“You exist,” spoke Fern as plainly as possible. “1/2 fruit or vegetable, 1/2 robot… all bastard. And where’s the banana I gave you to eat? Did you throw it overboard? I don’t see the peel. Better not litter in this water. You know what happens to people — and creatures — when they misbehave around here”

“I–I…” He admitted he ate the banana, peel and all. He was confused about what he was suppose to do. Yeah, he was told not to litter. Why do you think he did it? he asked them.

“Throw him in the water,” Boatman Neil said for not the first time, tired of the yapping and begging and whining. “Let the underwaters have him.” He thought about his own encounter with MessianSphere not 3 years ago. But somehow he escaped. Or did he?

“No. We need him,” spoke Fern softly back to Neil only. Because she had a plan. Fern always had a plan, for every occasion. And 7/6ths into a photo-novel still without a plot was a special one indeed. Unprecedented if memory serves, unless it was 11, 16, 21, 26, 31.

We move on…

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character elimination (he wasn’t really that important to the story anyway — or was he?)

Liz is somewhere here, thinks Keith B., spying the guts of the place from a high point in one of its vineyards.

Watch out!

“Did you hear that??”

“Sounded like an explosion!”

A new cube appeared down at the beach. Ready for transport.

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00350701

Harlie and friends head into the woods today for a little more inmate bashing.

—–

“So what did you hear over there?”

“The wedding is *definitely* off.”

“Good, good. So I guess we’ll be getting a little cake from all this.”

“Saved you a piece.”

“Mmmm *mmm*.”

—–

“No, this one’s not wine. Instead: Jeannie.”

“Genie, eh?” Derick was now more interested than ever. He’d always wanted superpowers of some kind. Hero School wasn’t hacking it for him.

“Yeah, but spelled with a j. And an extra n, And an a. Talking about a person… in a bottle. Found it on a beach where I crash landed in my Gemini or perhaps Mercury space capsule, we don’t know which. Could be a 2 seater, could be 1. A mystery, a conundrum. All for a nickle.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

Thinking of Lichen here, Fern said: “I never joke.” But maybe I should more, she thinks. The Claude-Fern combination was pretty funny though, or so Lichen told me afterwards. I have ultimate respect for her opinion on those matters.

“I’ll give you 5000 dollars, that’s my lowest offer.” Derick knew the bottle was probably cursed, didn’t want to insult the Gods of the thing by swindling this poor stupid lady who came in from the beach or wherever.

“Call it 10000 and I’ll throw in the mate,” Fern said, reeling in a fish. Now she can pay off her gambling debts from this morning.

—–

At the next table over:

“This wine has a finger in it.”

“And it’s mine!”

“Ah HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

What’s so funny over there? wonders Fern as Derick studies the second bottle.

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