I kept staring and staring at the Oracle in Henrietta until I became something else.
Now perhaps I can start to understand the thing.
Plain Jane Phyllis
Klondike Phox suddenly found herself not with the widows. In Plain Jane (sim) she was now, in the middle of some kind of pandemic, she sensed, disinfectors all around. The present, in other words. The nearest one spoke to her, holding out his hands. “Now, now, I’ll handle this.” Phyllis moves forward toward him…
… only to find herself somewhere else once more: in a boat with a blanket on a cool summer day, freshly baited rod in front of her.
On a coffee break in a nearby gardening shed, not-so-plain June Bug sensed the manifestation happen. “Another Plain Jane,” she groused, looking up at it. “Nancy Kulp should have never opened that can of worms in front of Jed.”
“You’re just going to have to admit it, Speck. This *doesn’t* depend on logic. Synchronicity instead.”
“Now get the meter stick out and let’s measure the distance between these two tables. If it’s the same as over in [Denshore] then I’ll sh-t my pants…”
“… but not be surprised,” finishes Speck. “That is logical.” Speck imagines seeing the face of God, like he did in that first movie. Beauty. So much beauty. He’s lucky to ever get his mind back after that.
“Hold it right there gentleman!”
“Oh rats,” Speck exclaimed.
“Hold on, hold on, Speck,” the Cpt. says, putting his hand out. “I’ll handle this.” He moves forward toward the new figure. “Luke Pickard, this is *our* planet, our Corsican continent. Get your own elephant continent to explore and conquer!”
Pickard glances right toward the red eyed elephant, proclaiming: “Eleph? Eleph’s a mere prop. What you’re looking for is a *real* elephant, one with Ants crawling from his trunk.”
“Explain,” the Cpt. quickly returned. Pickard moves forward to join them as in a triangle. “Let me take over and I’ll show you.” He edges closer to Speck than the Cpt. Everyone understands the game now.
The Cpt. draws his phaser and rushes over to Speck. “Never!”
Fate and resonance had moved them very quickly further into the elephant’s ear. Paired off they were still, Parasol here with Irish Lass Phyllis Klondike, formerly Phyllis Phox. Then in the background: Kate McCoy, all grown *down* for some reason now, with Audrey [last name deleted — *not* Phillips — I don’t think]. Now all they needed was a DJ to play some appropriate tunes, perhaps for dancing even. Because we have new couples beyond the old. And drumstick makes 5, whatever that f-ing means. I’m having trouble typing tonight I’m so f-ing excited, it seems. For tonight is the time of a Big Reveal, schweet. So first to the picture of the two couples…
Oh, I think I see. Since we’re so close to Denshore here, obviously related to the Danshire sim mentioned toward the beginning of this here photo-novel, then I believe it’s time to introduce another villain into our work called Batty Casey, even though I’m not sure still that this is the Big Reveal of tonight. As Denshore is a one vowel advancement over Danshire in a doubled way (hmmm… just saw Vowel somewhere, probably in the Oracle) so Batty Casey represents a logical step up from Casey One Hole seen there, baseball bat replacing golf club. Play ball! In fact, let’s play two. Ernie Banks.
The sun is beginning to come up. Better move to dialog…
“I *will* revenge my husband Phillip’s death at the hands of that killer Arthur Kill,” spoke Audrey harshly at the front table now to little Katy Kidd, who didn’t really understand what was going on — yet. But she knew the name of Audrey’s husband and it wasn’t Phillip. She makes a note of this while still tapping her little foot to the beat layed down by skillful Casey. Through the empty holes of the Connect Four game situated between them, she saw that Audrey was doing the same with her hand. So infectious. Was this the Big Reveal tonight? That the beat was so infectious to both hand and foot? Moving on…
Parasol knew that Big Black Smoke, the same as Big Black Skome but in a reverse way (again), simply had to be killed at the end of that Dead End Steert (Street) because he was a Mouse, i.e., Rat. 3 eggs, all laid in a row. Infectious. “I want that Gwar,” she demanded to Irish Lass Phyllis Klondike across from her. “I don’t need it, I want it. Give it to me. It is *green*, I mean, *gray*, I mean, RED.”
“Yes it is all those,” spoke Phyllis calmly back. “The green, the gray, the red.” She looked in the direct of Batty Casey and the baseball bat thumping a different tune now, one having to do with a tug of war and a fall into a deep hole to Hell itself and the Devil inside. Is the bat a drumstick? But perhaps that should be Audrey speaking here instead.
“Is the bat a drumstick?” she asked Katy Kidd across the way. Batty Casey kept on thumping, like she was hitting homer after homer after homer.
(to be continued?)
“We’ll have to call this Widow’s Peak after this,” offered still all grown up Kate McCoy (the Real McCoy) to the others sitting around this 4 chair table. Still grieving the death of spouse Jack Snow all the way back at the end of section 1 of this here photo-novel, 18th in the series.
Irish Lass Phyllis Klondike across from her, surname reverted to her maiden one after the death of hubbie Ben Wolf in that newest Bena coup in 2 — *supposed* death — turned around in her seat to look at it. Audrey, the most recent of the widows (husband = just shot Jeffrie Phillips back in Urqhart), followed her gaze. Parasol (wife of The Mann, killed at the end of section 3), didn’t want to look but just pulled a drumstick out of her pocket and began to munch. “Grey matter,” she garbled to the now staring others. “So good.”
From his Holy Island in Henrietta, red rose holding Marcus Fox Smartville receives more information from the laggy, texture overloaded Oracle before him.
Corsica is an elephant — yes. He already knew that, staring beyond the Oracle into the far corner of the building. He imagined the fantastical, imposing elephant there trumpeting additional, savage notes with his huge trunk which emerged as ants that came into view after spilling on the floor before it and marching toward the Oracle, hell bent on protection. Symbiotic relationship.