Category Archives: Urbane Blue/Fishers Island

dammed 03

“What does it say in your little red book about me? About us?”

“Let’s see,” improvised Jill MacGill through Gwin again. “‘The Story of Doris and Gwin’. Sorry: ‘Gwin and Doris.’ Says here we’ll be married in 2 years. Will stay with Aunt Sally until the crops are harvested. Then we’ll be free to live out our days wherever we choose. But, again, says here: Wallytown. That’s why I need the book. To learn all about our future home.”

“All right, all right,” cedes Doris Drane across from her. “We’ll go back to the library and get the other book. The big blue one.”

Gwin rushes over and kisses Doris full on the lips, then sits beside her, holding her hand. Yeah, this is some *real* acting, both actresses think (hint: they despise each other).

—–

“Smells weird in here. Old book smell, I suppose.”

“Shhh. I’m trying to read.”

“I thought you were just going to steal that book. Not read the entire thing while we’re here.”

“I’m reading up on the part about the wall. The Green Monster. So… shhh.”

Doris Drane kept quiet for a bit, then started again.

“Never heard of a tree eating wall,” Doris rehashed some of what Gwin was saying before. “Glin or Glinda, Gliph or Glyph — with an i and a y. Why do these cypress trees always come as, um, twinned pairs of the opposite sex that don’t, er, don’t know anything about the other half?”

“It’s only one tree,” corrected Gwin. “It can appear at different times in different places and think it is the same. Like I could sit over here and talk, and then we could switch chairs and I could talk over there. But to the tree, it’s as if the switch never happened. They’re always where they are.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Doris noisily scooted back her uncomfortable wooden chair and stood up. “I’ll be freely roaming the grounds if you need me. I’ll check back in about, say, 30 minutes?”

Gwin is absorbed in what she’s currently reading (trees have 2 souls!) and doesn’t respond. But then improvises: “Watch your navel!”

God I hate that woman, Chloe Price thinks. And EM is letting her get away with all this!

—–

I wonder who’s actually sacrificed here? Doris ponders, laying in the center of an elevated stone circle. Trees? Fish? Fish people? Her mind is running wild.

Huh (mysterious floating pylon).

“Hello. Anyone home?” But Doris needn’t had worried because no one lives here.

After waiting the appropriate time, she goes inside and sits at the dining room table. I hope those are candy bunnies on that platter over there, she thinks.

Hmm. 2960. Probably another empty building. I’m not even going to knock this time. Feeling free to roam indeed.

Lemons and lime; that reminds me of something.

This is a little different.

Don’t mind if I do.

What’s this? My foot must have accidentally activated the screen. Doris studied the graphic.

“Gunn Mobile Trailer Park,” she spoke aloud, then saw the byline at the bottom. “Your Darkness.” She settled back in the executive chair. “A game. I love computer games.” So she just decides to start a two person round with herself.

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dammed 02

“Ah yes, I see them now. Fish. Hence Fish Dam.”

“Salmon, to be more specific. Heading 15 meters up to Fish Lake — also known as Lake Three — to reproduce at or near the very place they themselves were spawned. Says here this is due to olfactory memory. I think that means they can smell their way back to their original home.”

Doris Drane looked down at Gwin. “You shouldn’t have stolen that book about the island from that library.”

“The About Land description read: Feel free to roam about the grounds and explore,” countered her red haired companion sprawled out on the green ground beside her. “Didn’t say anything about not taking anything or leaving everything as is. It just said to go wherever you want, do what you want. I could have exposed my midriff to the world if I’d chosen. But I didn’t.”

“Yeah. Your choice.” The actresses playing Doris Drane and Gwin were improvising beyond the shooting script now. Behind the cameras, Eraserhead Man couldn’t help but smile.

“We have to take it back,” implored Doris Drane, back on script. “We have to go back to the library.”

“Good,” states the defiant Gwin. Maybe I’ll steal a couple *more* books while we’re there. There’s a big blue one about this place called Wallytown I’d like to have in my possession. Maybe I’ll take that one. That might be enough.”

“Just stop it, Gwin. And stop bending back the spine on that red one. It could be rare — we may have to pay!”

“50,000 lindens do you think?” EM smiles again. Keep going you Jill MacGill, he thinks. Just keep on keeping on.

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the one

“Thank you Yip Yip! We’ll be speaking later on these matters!”

“You’re welcome!” gruffed the large, blue creature while shuffling his way out of the same colored coffee shop.

“So… that leaves just you and me, Sandy. ” Eraserhead Man counts the characters off on his yellow hand. “Jer Horne, Benny Horne, Gwin, Doris Drane, Blue Yip Yip… oh, the *rabbits* (!). He shakes his eraser topped head, breathes out heavily. “Oh well, I’ll talk to them individually later. Frank Bowers and Jenny have some large issues going down, Sandy. And Commander Yip Yip — Cookie — is right smack in the middle of it all.”

Suavely dressed Sandy Beech just stared at his director, letting him unwind his ideas as he’s wont to do. He’s *trying* to be patient. It *is* an important role in his career, perhaps a defining one. He decides to simply nod instead of speak at EM’s implied prompt for a response. Auteurs needs affirmation. Over and over. He’ll give him this right now and nothing more. After nodding, he settles back in his golden seat.

EM leans forward at the same time, reaches over and pats Sandy’s nearest foot to further get his attention. “But *you*. I wanted to keep this just to ourselves, Sandy, so that’s why we’re here. Inside. “I consider *your* role in this production the most important. Sure, sure, Chloe’s has elevated as well, and she’s certainly the principle female protagonist what with this new payoff I’m giving her. Which means she’s the love interest you’ve been wondering about, Sandy. Chloe’s the one.”

Sandy sits back up, interested now. “You mean All Blue?”

“No Sandy, I want to stop you right there. That’s a mythological term borrowed from your source character. Hmm…” EM repeatedly snaps his stubby yellow fingers, trying to get the name. “Sanji,” he comes up with. “Yeah. But your character is different. Just like Frank *borrows* from both Frank of ‘Donnie Darko’ — love that film, by the way — and also Frank Bowers of the ‘Life is Strange’ production. Another great work, especially using certain edits. That series gave me the idea for multiple plot lines diverging off from each other.” EM here raises his hands in front of him and spreads his fingers out.

“What, then?” Sandy Beech was both excited and irritated at once.

“Get this, Sandy. Not All Blue. All *Orange*. It’s something you saw as a child. Now pay attention here. It wasn’t your mother — that would be too inappropriate — not your aunt, *maybe* a cousin or maybe just someone who lives on your street. But you saw a person, a *woman*, turn into a doll while a kid. And then you saw the container where they put her after the transmutation — like we had Sally transmuted from an ordinary woman in the shoot several days back.

“I remember,” offered Sandy, trying to resist the impulse to tap his fingers impatiently against the arm of his golden chair. He stared as graciously as possible once more.

“But the container,” continued EM, “had only one opening, a round one. And through that opening you saw a navel, a belly button, framed as perfectly as possible within it. Like an orange with a navel. And that started your life long search for All Orange, the whole shebang. And along with that, the obsession with cooking with oranges — souffles, cakes, pies, you name it. And, of course, the, er, doll peddling.” He paused — another response was needed, Sandy sensed.

“And this — doll — is Chloe. Doris Drane I mean.”

“Right you are. And I’m $50,000 lindens poorer because of it. We just have to think of the setting, the lighting and so on. But that’s the pivotal vision I had. A navel in a round opening. An orange.”

I wonder what Chloe thinks about all this, Sandy then ponders. I’ll have to ask her the first chance I get. Maybe an, ahem, accidental rendezvous is needed tonight, hehe.

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for an orange

“We should get back to the hotel, Benny. I need some ice cream. I checked. That truck behind me back there at the drive-in theater…”

“*Dive*-in theater,” Jer’s brother corrected.

“Yeah. Like I said. Dive-in theater — anyways, the truck is completely empty. And the fridge in our apartment here is empty. And the fridge over at Audrey’s next door. And the…”

“Yes, yes, I know,” spoke Jer’s brother. “We have no ice cream. We have no bananas. Those girls *took* it all.”

—–

“I’m not sure I get all the fruit references, EM. Apples, oranges, bananas.”

“Orange,” amended Eraserhead Man, sitting in the opposite golden hand from the actor playing Jer Horne (Ted Sprinkles). “Important to leave out a letter.”

“Right. Like I said.”

—–

“My time in the hot seat, um, hand, eh?” He adjusted his weight in the awkward sitting spot. “Kind of hard don’t you think?”

“Listen, Jed — ‘Benny’. You and Jer are the Ice Cream brothers through and through. You’re not just a nice guy, for example. You’re a *sweet* guy. And your brother has an *icy* stare. And your hotel has pillows as soft as whipped cream. And so on.”

“Great. That’s great — I get it. Back to the fruit.”

—–

“We’re going to have to let someone show a little skin, Jill. Nothing higher than the navel, nothing lower. Just the midriff.”

“Check my contract, EM. *No* nudity.”

“It’s not nudity,” implored the lauded director. “It’s just… never mind. Send in Chloe. I know she’ll do it. For a price.”

—–

“50,000 lindens. Take it or leave it.”

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street dance

“Gwin, maybe we can get some ideas of where to go from here through this public domain movie. What do you think so far?”

“I identify with the heroine, this Carolyn woman. Her relationship with Martin reminds me of my time with Tin Tin. All the irritating habits the Alexis psychic dude from the beach somehow knows about him, but still advises her to settle down with him and get married. What was the quote?”

Doris gave this: “‘Even a free spirit eventually has to come inside, put on her shoes, and start going to dinner parties.'” Embarrassed about her eidetic memory again, she then added: “I think.” But Doris knew it was the correct quote. It always was.

“That’s not me, though,” offered Gwin. “Now — I’ve got you babe.” She starts singing the appropriate Sonny and Cher song while getting up and improvising a dance, beckoning Doris Drane to join her. Why not, she thought.

Benny Horne continues to watch the pair from behind a nearby truck.

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dammed

Mornings here are the best, Doris. Funny how your name is Doris too. And almost the same last name as well. Drone instead of Drane, though. Thank God. Else it’d be spooky!”

“Spooky enough,” claims the red haired, anime style Doris sitting opposite her. “But call me Gwin. That was my given name over at the Ruby Democratic Empire set.”

“So glad you got disengaged from that Tin Tin. He sounds terrible. Eating with his mouth open and all. And that nose!”

“Awful indeed,” reinforced Doris Gwin. But now I’m here. With you. I decided I like women more than men. Reality goes where desire leads it.” They touched hands across the table, with no spitting involved this time.

—–

“Haven’t you guys finished that chess game yet?” clanks Sally the Sparkonaut after washing the breakfast pots and pans inside their cozy riverside cottage. “Why don’t you take a break and play checkers upstairs instead?” She winks at her niece Gwin with a bulbous blue eye. “If you know what I mean. Check her… checkhers. Get it?”

“Creepy, Aunt Sally. Why are you so… open and free about our burgeoning lesbian relationship? I mean, I thought you were a rampaging whore over at Wallytown before your mechanical transmutation.”

“Indeed I liked men in more ways than I can count. And I am a powerful caculating machine. But love is love to me. Be free and open with it. Last reincarnational existence I was a nun in 19th Century France and hated every minute of the experience. Lesbian relationships at the nunnery were common, and even encouraged if you were sly about it. The monks turned their back on us — they were having their own fun with their own fair sex. That’s how things went but it wasn’t open to the outside. To them we were married to God and God alone. But God works in mysterious ways, as they say. And in my opinion God loves men and women to have sex. Any type of sex: concave on concave, convex on convex, concave/convex… you name it. And domination… there’s a percentage of people that like it… be open to that too. But in the right way.”

“You are wise, Aunt Sally. The people that built the dam over there on the river we can see from our breakfast table also did a super job on your transmutation.”

“It was too rampant,” repeated Sally. “Something had to be done about desire for certain.” Her antennas sparked again. “I suppose.”

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Dive In Theater

Franklin “Frank” Bowers sits and stares at the river while contemplating his sorry state of affairs.

Across the river, Herbert “The Brow” Dune plans out dollhouses for the rich and privileged. He’s a professional doll peddler. We’ll see where that goes…

Patsy Peggy Jennifer remains lukewarm about being on her own. She’s been separated from Frank for 2 years now, but still lives next door. Why is this so?

Cookie, a big blue yip yip, commands a small steampunk airship currently moored at the Treestone Tower House towering above them.

Blue haired Doris “Diver” Drane goes snorkeling in the river at the center of it all.

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bananas

“I’m telling you Baker Bloch. It’s a battle between black and white. Lodges. I *need* a gun.” Heidi pointed her loaded weapon at Baker’s brimmed hat, oh so tempted to shoot it off just to reinforce her message. Instead: “Change over into the other director. I want to speak with my doppleganger on this.”

“Alright.”

“You’ve changed, Penn Mann, er, Heidi. You know you have.” His voice was strong and nasal.

“I’ll admit it. I’m still here to bargain.”

“I’ve seen this version of you before. You’re a magician… *musician*. That’s it. I’ve heard about you. You use to hang out with that scallywag…”

“Bargaining, please.”

“Okay, getting down to the brass tacks it is. I want the inn for starters. Horne. I’m going to bring back the Ice Cream Boys.”

Heidi/Musician turned around in his seat and looked at the large structure representing the inn, then turned back to Eraserhead Man. “Done.”

“And the blue coffee shop behind me. The one with the golden hands that serves such excellent espresso. I need coffee to make my brain function well for the shoots. *Tangents* we must go on… explore. Plus,” — and here Eraserhead Man turned in turn, then turned back — “it’s a portal.”

Heidi/Musician looked straight ahead at the blue structure framing Eraserhead Man’s eraser topped head at the time. “I think that’s a given. Anything else?”

“The Orangerie,” Eraserhead spoke plainly and without hesitation. He knew this could be the sticking point, but had already made up his mind about the terms. This was make or break.”

Heidi/Musician expelled some air. “I have my people pushing me in a different direction, Pencil. Expand beyond Wallytown and the spaceship, they’re saying in my ear. Give Heidi a larger role… expose her to the limelight more. Feature Dr. Ice Cream more.”

“That’s what *I’m* trying to do. Feature Ice Cream more. Icy, delicious ice cream, mmmmm.” Eraserhead Man rubs his lead painted belly here for emphasis. He licks his wooden lips. He keeps licking his lips, staring at the doppleganger director opposite him. Slower and slower…

“Alright, okay, just stop doing that. I’ll give you your Ice Cream Boys. I’ll give you the Orangerie.” Heidi/Musician held steady the weapon he had pointed at his doppleganger beneath the table. “But I still keep the orange. *The* orange.” His finger was poised on the trigger. “I need both the apples and the orange.”

“Deal,” Eraserhead Man quickly agreed, then spit in his hand and extended it across the table. The gun was lowered. Both got all that they expected and desired today.

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production meeting 03

“I’m just feeling so — *blue*.”

“I know, Monster. I know…”

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production meeting 02

“Now about *Yip Yip* here, I haven’t decide. Could be mayor of this fine burg, could be a school principal or a teacher or a fireman. I haven’t decided,” he reinforced. “But doesn’t he *look* the part — whatever that is.” Eraserhead Man takes a good gander at the table’s voluminous blue being. “Beautiful,” he ends. “Just so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Yip Yip returns in a gruff tone.

“And I’d also like to thank Monster Cookie for trying out for the role too. Right now, well, right now he’s crying his eyes out in the other room, because I just made that decision prior to the meeting. When he collects himself, he’ll come in and make his introductions, I’m sure. Before he departs. Any other questions?”

“Just the ones we’ve already asked,” sardonically reiterates Sandy Beech to his right.

“Right.” EM sidetracks again. “So we’re ready for everyone to take Dr. Baumbeer’s psychological test. This is just to prepare you for the new relationships, the doubles and all, as well as the *cross* relationships between doubled pairs. So everyone just line up behind the good doctor and take a stab at *his* questions.”

EM takes his leave while everyone gets up and shuffles toward the smaller, white rabbit at the back of the room — our Rabbit 03 or Rabbid or, now, Dr. Baumbeer of course. Still toying with people’s minds. The men let the ladies go first. “After you, Chloe,” spoke Sandy politely. “You go first, Jill,” offered Desert. Jill and Chloe then just stare at each other, a Mexican showdown and one of many to come.

“Alphabetical,” inserts a compromising Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer. “Chloe before Jill, then Desert before Sandy. Then the parent rabbits, 01 and 02. Then… whatever you are.” He points to Yip Yip. “Let us commence. Fair Chloe, please take a seat.”

—–

“Just tell me what you see in the black and white pattern. Do you see yourself in there yet? Because you are. Everyone is.”

“I’m, ohh ahem eheh… *trying*.”

(to be continued)

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