Category Archives: Four Corners

lost in the sea that is the sky

He was a blank, ready to be written upon. Some called him Jonny already. He stared out past the Bellisaria Blues Bar toward the sea, the houseboats. He was looking for a… kite? His mind went blank again. He was a blank. Jonny he was called by some. He stares past the blues bar toward the sea, the sky, the… what was it? A ship. A boat or maybe… space?

I decided it should be a 200 meter long tether of red, knotted up like a rock hard ball of yarn left of center. This is the Jonny part.

—–

Alice Farrowheart was inconsolable. My poor poor Toddles, she lamented to anyone around at the time, the police for now.

“There there, now now,” the squad all attempted to calm. “Toddles is still in town. The tracker implanted in her neck like everyone’s neck tells us so (!).”

“But *where*?” she exclaims back.

“The tracker says Apple’s Orchard. Wait.” Officer Robert Petrie Dish checked Master Radar again. “Heading to Neptune now… yes, she’s in Neptune. She’s… making a turn left. Looks like she’s going to Black Ice.”

“You’ve checked *everywhere*. She’s *physically* NOT in the city!” Alice Farrowheart couldn’t help herself. She had to yell to get the feelings out. Where — was — TODDLES??

The officers and gentlemen around her knew there was one other place she could be hiding but were too scared to raise the possibility. They knew Collagesity was more or less fully integrated into NWES City — and Collagesity contained collages and now NWES City does too. Precious precocious child Toodles could have gone to the Inside World, perhaps, gasp (they collectively did when they thought of this), Picturetown? Inside the pictures that were collages? The squad thinks again about how unwise it was for town to decide to stay “city” and live with all the other lesser and inferior cities intruding in and around it, like unwanted pregnancies and resulting ragamuffin children. They should have been cast off with the name. Now look what happens. Actual children disappearing. She could be anywhere now, even — gasp (again) — Canada.

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00240607

“I was younger back then, still a rocker, still a moder. Cleveland had nothing on me.”

“Drew ‘Grumpy’ Cleveland?” Baker Bloch questioned, still shocked at the revelation. He hardly had breath to ask.

“Yes,” Stefan [last name still to be determined] admitted, thinking back to the lake, the peninsula. So calming after the pansies. He knew who he was… for the very first time. Then a Brendan appeared on a nearby peak and it began in earnest. He understood that this was not a bucolic paradise, and that paradise was a long way off indeed, like his sister knew before him. Brother too.

“Soooo…” Baker caught his breath again. “That’s when you began (inhale) to know… about Pansy…”

“Mouse,” Stefan completed for Baker Bloch. He held all the cards now, was playing with a full set of dice. Die — Certain Death. Red equals white. Alice in Wonderland would be proud. He let the word hang in the air again, like a kite cut loose from its tether, adrift in a sea of nothingness.

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Four Corners 02

He knew exactly where to look. He heads across the road toward the hills.

He pauses to roll two dice at Gigi’s place, red and white. “Twins,” he exclaims, seeing the result. “Good. I’m on the right track.” Certain Death can be avoided tonight.

He moves forward…

A wise sparrow looks down from a tree behind him. He stands in flowers again, pansies. This is where it will happen. He waits. He, again, knows Certain Death is not stalking him. This is the day, this is the portal. He waits. The sparrow knows too.

His head begins to vibrate rapidly. It has begun.

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Four Corners

“Dum de *dum* de *dum*.” Riiiiinnnng. “Oh dear.” Riiiiiiiinnnng. “That’s the phone.”

“Where, honey?”

“Over… *there*.” Riiinnng.

“Over where, honey?”

“On the wall.” Riiinnnng. “Just over… *there*.”

“The wall… the phone on the wall?”

Riiinnnng. “Yes. Don’t you remember. The phone… on the wall.”

“The *pay phone*? The one that hadn’t worked for 20 years?” Rinnnnng.

“Yes. I think. Go check. I’m scared. I’ll be back in my room.” Riinnng.

She was so happy just seconds before. Now the world seemed to be ending.

Riinnnng. Herbert Glenn Gold walks over, answers the phone. Riinnnn– “Hello?”

—–

“You have become old, Stefan.”

“No… not old. I can still rock.”

“You are a classical man through and through now. Get up out of the rocker. You cannot rock any longer. You are an old man. You…”

“Pansy,” he said, trying to reassure. “I acquiesce.” Old Stefan steps away from the DJ equipment and the dance floor as a whole, walks outside, stands in the flower bed.

—–

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Comedian

“Were you seen, Jupiter?”

Jupiter? But Groover remembered who he was at the core. Jupiter, yes. “I don’t think so.” He thought back to the visit by Tickie this morning, intent on finding him and taking him back to an aspiring cryptozoologist in his hometown for study and perhaps fame and fortune, or so the Undertaker said. For he is the illusive, the one and only Knob Noster! Well, there were three of us, counting the wife and the kid. He needs to send them a postcard.

“What about the other fellow, the Man About Town it said in his outfit description? I wonder: *what* town? The same as Tickie’s? They didn’t seem to know each other that well. Did they?” She turned her scowling face toward Groover, wishing reciprocation.

“MAT, yes. I mean, no. They didn’t seem to know each other that well. He must be in on it. Why would he come to the Game Room to meet with him otherwise. Certainly not to play *Pac-man*.”  Jupiter/Groover here makes an imitation of a pac-man gobbling up ghosts and the like with his pac-man-like mouth. Understanding the Anti-Bart reference, Olive Oylstick still finds it only mildly funny. More is afoot now. She stares out again at the… tree? Is that what this is in the space formerly occupied by the House of Joy?

Groover gasps. “There it is again (!). Sideways.”

Olive Oylstick had an insight. “Do that thing with your mouth again you just did.”

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Brendan

“Brrrr. Cold down at the beach. I think I’ll stay right here in front of this fire for a while, brother of mine.”

Kick-Ass Boos, unlike his brother, didn’t have cold feet, although they were bare. He’d given up his shoes just a minute before. He didn’t want to reveal too much too soon. Instead: “Well… what do you think about this town, village, community, whatever? This…” Kick-Ass Boos couldn’t remember the name all of a sudden, like it had been yanked from his memory by a falsity of time.

Kick-Ass Bogota kept warming his hands while chatting about the subject. “It’s okay, I guess. I like the swimming pool. I like the blues bar here. Something to do at night! And the game room, of course. We’ll head up there next — check it out.”

“The mountains and that pretty lake too.” ALERT

“Yes, that too,” the brother agreed. He drew back from the fire, toasty for the moment. “Whatever, we *can’t* go back to Black Ice. Evicted.”

“Yeah. Plus Elberta is gone from town too. What’s the point of staying on.”

Thinking about their old, common girlfriend, Kick-Ass Bogota glanced away from the fire at his brother, traditional rivalries stoked along with attached suspicions. He recalled a different name. “Who exactly recommended this place to you again?”

“Oh just a friend,” Kick-Ass Boos quickly answered, not wanting an awkward gap. “He likes the blues; he knew this place.”

“A blues friend,” Kick-Ass Bogota said, returning his hands toward the fire.

Good one, thought Kick-Ass Boos. Very close, except it was only one blues. Blue, then. And the friend was… *Darn*. Can’t remember again.

Tickie walked through the door. “*There* you are.”

Kick-Ass Bogota swung around. Gig is up, Kick-Ass Boos realized.

“How’d you get down here so fast? And what is that blue costume you’re wearing?”

“You’re… the *blues* friend,” Kick-Ass Bogota guessed correctly. Or blue *friends*, he thought while looking from one to the other, still not seeing his brother’s true face because of the bag.

15 minutes later, the Undertaker stood in the flower garden on the side of the house, taking pictures.

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00230614

“Back to the old give and go, huh?”

MAT didn’t understand this comment, but he kept his mouth shut. He assumed a “this might be bull” position, which Marsha Slot (aka Olive Oylstick), the TILE channeler/tarot reader, picked up on, like a town.

“No bull,” she said. “Instead… COW,” she realized, staring deeper into the smokey sphere between her hands. “You missed something.” She stared forward now with everpresent scowl. Yet she was not a cruel person. The expression was a built in feature. She planned to change it one day. When she got the money. One 50 linden reading at a time.

“Cow?” MAT immediately thought of Cow Hill which he was tempted to visit yesterday but didn’t have the time. He didn’t *make* the time. He didn’t know what he’d find there but he did have the urge. While he was in the area again — just a hop and a skip up from Tiger’s place.

“I’m seeing a protrusion. A… fifth. A cow full of air which blows the wrong way, knocking, yes, knocking off a hat.”

That would be Slash Girl, MAT realized. No bull indeed!

—–

Tickie came back from the bathroom; stared into an empty room with a vacant TILE tarot (etc.) reading table. Scratching his head again, he realized he had gone forward into the past once more. Better get back to the Blues bar.

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Anti-Bart

He listened in open mouthed amazement, like always.

“I don’t know, Groover,” he put it mildly but seriously. “I’m just not feeling it yet in…” He considered the name of the place, the village. But not a village. A community. Centered around Blues. He stared at his blue companion; decided to ask him about a name. “What do you locals call this, um, neighborhood?”

Groover stared back, also considering a name. He hadn’t thought of it before. A list developed in his mind, Thirteensboro at the top. Unlucky Village? But 13 is a good number according to TILE tarot reader Marsha Slot, due to arrive at quarter past the hour to start her shift in the next room over. We should wait for her, Groover realized. He told this to Man About Time (MAT).

—–

The front door opened and closed. A woman’s footsteps were heard going into the other room. “There she is,” MAT said over in his soft tone with raised eyebrows, and they got up to go get her first reading of the day. MAT had 50 lindens. He hoped that was enough, because he knew Groover never carried around cash with him. No pockets.

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pansies 02

Like Olive Oylstick and blue monster companion Groover before him, Man About Time — MAT — also waited at the Blue Airfield for a ship of some sort, hopefully an airship, you know. He perched upon the best vantage point possible, on a high knoll just over the line from Blue in Gray, he thought. He was testing out realities. He’d just found pansies in Orion Falls and much more.

He was hot on a trail but to where he didn’t yet know. It led here first, picture-wise, a stepping stone. He thought back to Marvin the Martian next to the Blue Feather Sea (his original home). And HELMETS.

An agreement signed. Planes penetrating each other. I remember something about Jim Polk but then someone else warning me to slow down and that I was going too fast and to take the 2 blue pills and don’t think about red for a while. So here I am. At Blue… field. So here I am… at Blue… field.

He turns. Something was wrong, he realizes. He should be in Gray; this is not Gray. Too much Blue! Instead: over in that small bit of woods across the Blue field. Hiding. He was too much out in the open. Warning again. Exposed! (War!)

The ship swooped down and carried MAT off to a lala land and dropped him into the ocean where he was rescued by a passing whale and brought instead to Humansville where he met Baker Bloch and Hucka Doobie while breaking into a house and who then helped him find the right house for the keys he now possessed which turned out to be not the ninth he tried, but the 10th, like a wheel and then he thought about dinner and 12:37 and a spark on his shoulder which told him to return to Bellisaria which led to the pansies… and the prison… and Elizabeth. There. He felt better. He turns back, away from a lala land triggered by the moving blocks of color. Time to go hide in those woods.

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pansies

“You’re one of our most trusted contacts, Bella.”

“Sandy here, YUCK. Sandy *Squirrel*. I’m a squir-rel, HO.”

“Right, right. You’re a squirrel here. You’re name is Sandy. *Not* Bella.”

“That’s right. And I can’t breath, HUH HUH HUH (pants). See? I just removed my helmet and the atmosphere’s plain POISON. It’s like I took a red pill, a blue pill, and then turned into a COW, hehe.”

“I don’t get it. Anyway…”

“It’s that old saying,” she explained with another chuckle, still without helmet. “‘And on the FIFTH day… wait, And SO on the FIFTH day…”

“Right, right. I get it. You’re a cow.”

“I’m NOT a cow. Becauuuuse… I didn’t take the *pills*. I didn’t become Phyllis. I h’ain’t no channeler, see. I’ll leave that up to…”

“Phyllis?” I interrupted. I didn’t see the connection between pills and Phyllis yet. I could tell I upset Sandy/Bella by interrupting her. Me and my big mouth. I think of the calming blue pills in my pocket that could slow me down. Getting anxious. I reach; try to disguise to Bella/Sandy what I’m doing. Cartoon-like, she begins to imitate me; reaches into her own pocket on her astronaut suit or whatever the heck she’s wearing.

“I got some TOO, and I bet they h’ain’t the same color, HO.”

Synchronized now, I pull out two, she pulls out two. I figure out the Phyllis-pills connection. Together we could do each other in. She reaches over with one and I do too. We exchange. We swallow.

—–

We’re in a different place altogether, staring at trash that also isn’t trash with TILE channeler Phyllis and revived lady of the night Sammie Parr. It was all a dream.

—–

Tickie comes back from the bathroom. “Where’d they go?” On his own now, he became even slightly more blue but it would take a while.

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