Category Archives: Southeast^

ants and uncles

“I *hate* Star. I will *never* go with the Star, pheh.”

—–

Marsha “Pink” Krakow was confused. She had come back home to Storybrook after being way up in the air over in Southeast (aerial), then landed here instead. Apparently a whole ‘nother town on top of her hometown (!), or at least the start of one. Was this the future of Storybrook, hidden in the sky only to descend when the right time comes? And — will the right time be at the end of the Corona V Beer scare? Why did she think that at this moment?

She turns. Just like her uncle’s shop in NWES City. How? She hadn’t seen him in years. Axis or Ally or something. Yes, Axis, um… she can’t remember the last name. Her own uncle!

She looks across a side street…

… to see herself exiting a bar called The Trunk Ant. Herself! A different timeline, she realized. One where her Storybrook never existed.

She had found the beating heart of the Big Inside.

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more

“I *want* to get better,” bubbled a depressed Messed Up from a similarly colorful and confusing couch. “I — have a new love in my life. I’m motivated!”

“That’s great, Ms. Up,” responded Dr. Young Kane (played by Axis aka TronAxis). “I’m glad you have a reason to change. Makes my job easier.”

“You — may know him actually,” Messed Up sloshed haltingly again, knowing more than she let on.

“Oh?”

“Yes.” And then she spilled his name.

—–

“Young *Harris*,” spat out Dr. Young Kane later to his imaginary wife sitting below him, more cartoonish tonight than usual but still sporting the perfunctory blue-green hair.

“The reason you came *here*,” she returned. “Where are we going with this?”

“I — was going to ask you that.”

“I think — we should go to bed now. We can think better in the morning. With our coffee, eggs and tea.”

“*No*,” Axis said firmly. “We’re going to *figure* this out *tonight*.” His voice was pitched just below a yell now. “*Why* is she here?”

“New patient,” said Venus cooly from below. “You need the money.” She stared at The Sun between them, the rays. “It’s the Corona–”

“*Stop* saying that word. I’m sick to death of hearing it.”

“–V Drink,” she dared to finish. “The deal is almost done.”

—–

He finds himself in a different place, sporting the Esso t-shirt once more. Peter Oesso now, formerly Peter Osseo formerly Peter Esso. “Like an opossum,” he explained to Randolph the pirate beside Storybrook’s Gatcha Warehouse about the newest name. Fresh from another hand washing he is.

“Possum; opossum. I *think* I get it.” He turns toward the effigy of Mr. Fix It against the Black Elephant with the graffiti art. “So that’s It, huh? The man you killed to get that gas station.”

“I *didn’t* kill him. It was just a — convenience.”

“Convenience *store*.”

“In the future,” Peter Oesso admitted to the bastard buccaneer.

“So, are we on for 500 more cases of the often deadly brewskies? Or are you done with it now? The killing and all.”

“I — have a confession.” And it was here Peter Oesso told Randolph the Bastard Pirate about the conjoined trunks streams.

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The Y’s

Straw Bear Y looks wistfully toward the northwest corner of Tyranea and Dr. Young Kane’s Mental Health Institute from her southeast position, wishing her husband Blue Bear Y would get well and be able to return home. But she knew it wouldn’t be anytime soon. They hadn’t kissed in ages!

Oh well, she has other options in the meantime. “Coming back to bed, honey pot?” Ralph the milkman queried from inside.

“Sure.”

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batty

Peter/Tronaxis checked the next morning. The Esso poster downstairs *had* changed again, this time to Oesso (from Osseo). But the Tiger remains. Him, according to Wheeler. He was both embarrassed and pleased with the title. He still regrets being Dr. Young Kane over in the Weird-o Islands instead of Dr. Young Harris. Weir did he go wrong? What path could he have chosen differently? Venus knows, but she won’t tell him. She’s always shutting her mouth when it comes up with that zipper gesture she found online. So he remains Mars — Marz. Trapped here in essence, in this Purple Marz house located in a sim dominated or defined by that weird-o color (like surrealism). Maybe Blue Berry Girl would know, having successfully removed violet from her own wardrobe, this so called weighty Purple Sphere that poor little Katy Kidd/Kate McCoy always talks about releasing as well in a more mental capacity. A mentor to her this Blue Berry Girl is, despite the continued nudity. Popeye-like, she declares, “I am what I am.” Bulging eyed youths obviously foam at the mouth with the gunn sight. If only Bullfrog would have had the courage to shoot her with his own, different gun when he had the chance back in novel 14, he thinks, taking the mindset of the current doctor. “I better get over there,” he utters while checking his oh so loudly ticking wristful of watch, also with bat wings. He stops looking at it just in time to avoid another catastrophe. Too early in the morning for BOOM.

—–

“Your — sphere is back,” spoke Axis/Peter Oesso, stating the obvious.

“Shut up.”

Then the ghost of Dr. Baumbeer showed up and things got *really* interesting. He had a lot to say.

(to be continued?)

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violet 04

“What am I doing here? In this sim, pheh.” She waves the bat in the air, contacting nothing.

—–

Downstairs in the Purple Marz house, somewhat human again Jack Snow answers the door. For no one.

“Rerro? (pause) Rerrooo?”

—–

How much for the lot of you?” Peter Osseo asks in a neighboring Southeast sim.

“50 lindens,” the talking battymobile responds for both.

“Sold!”

—-

Your job, er, Tom — just like before — is to guard it day and night. Just stay here. I’m going to find out what makes this baby tick!”

“It’s like a really — loud clock,” mafia dude Tom Blinks complains softly, then wonders the obvious.

Too late.

——

Peter Osseo wakes up with a start…

… then vows to get rid of that crazy bat wing vanity he bought yesterday on sale asap.

Too late.

—–

Peter Oesso wakes up.

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continuation

Peter Esso walked right by it on the way the bookstore to look at that map of Michigan again in the old atlas he’d found the day before last Wednesday’s Sunday. Or something. He’d had an epiphany the night before. The two St. Joseph Rivers of that state are actually one St. Joseph Rivers, er, River. “Eureka!” he cried while climbing out of the bathtub, still soaking wet as he padded toward the computer and the map of Hillsdale County he left up on it, a *modern* version but still one indicating where the conjoined sources lie: Osseo.


Osseo, 6000 years in the future.

Thus the purchase of the Esso t-shirt from the Marketplace, and also the old sign reinforcing to himself that he was indeed a tiger (see: Wheeler). And then the name change: SoSo to Esso, but the one embedded in the other thanks to Osseo, he understood.

Wait — he has an idea.

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violet 03

“How the hell are you Hucka Doobie?”

“I’m doing fine *Wheeler*.” She wasn’t playing the Venus Flytrap game here. Not now not ever.

Venus/Wheeler nods toward the 2 men in the room, trying to make a divide between here and there. “Those Bozos, eh? What are we doing hanging around with *them*?”

“Can’t live with them nor without them I suppose,” answers Hucka, still busy slicing the mushrooms and carrots. Can’t Wheeler *help*? she thinks to herself. What a lazy woman! And she’s working while the men talk about the blog. *She’s* an owner too. Both Wheeler and herself. We’re all core, she wanted to say over to them. How about letting us in on the action.

“Axis is such a tiger, though,” states Wheeler, revealing too much for Hucka Doobie. She knows she won’t have any similar stories to share about Baker Bloch. *Both* know this.

“Yeah, well that’s good. Tell me all the details, Wheeler. About the positions and such. Do you do aerial?”

“Maybe,” Wheeler replies quickly then hops down off the cabinet and walks toward the table. “Aren’t you guys finished? Can we all become one again now?”

Hucka Doobie couldn’t watch. She cut mushroom after mushroom then carrot after carrot, not turning around.

“Let’s talk, Venus. About Philip Marz and his role in all this.”

Oh *brother*, Hucka thinks, shaking her head while still slicing away. Mars again.

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violet too

“The blog owners were here inquiring about progress,” TronAxis speaks down to an imaginary Venus Flytrap, his estranged partner for the moment. “They’re asking about the Kate McCoy/Katy Kidd timeline, wondering how long it will take to get back to the Storybrook story, the main one.”

“Nineteen,” she says upwards.

“What’s that dear?”

“We’re on nineteen. The Sun.”

“The Who?”

—–

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violet consultation

“Katy is a difficult nut to crack,” continued TronAxis in his Tyranea office while Baker Bloch and Hucka Doobie furiously take notes, trying to shorten the night so that another post can be created after the present one. “Oh. Sorry I guess I should have put that another way, ahem. Kate is a difficult *case* to crack–”

“You said she still can’t tell what time it is, what year it is?” uttered Hucka Doobie, attempting to move things along.

“That’s right. One moment she’s little Katy Kidd, stuck in a purple house with an abusive mother, and then the next she’s Kate McCoy, all grown up and back in reality. How long has she been here now?” he inquired partly to himself, partly to the “guardians” Baker and Hucka sitting before him. “5 years I would guess,” he answers while looking up, then looks left. “And the purple house still sits right over there in the opposite corner of the sim. Vacant — the mother’s been dead that long. Still she torments this poor woman-child from the grave.”

Baker’s turn now. He lifts pencil from pad while starting his question. “How about the sphere? She hasn’t strayed down the path of Blue Berry Girl and gone all nudist on us? I’m not (he flips a page, checking notes before he speaks again) sure why — (flips more) she was hired actually. Wasn’t she a former patient?”

“Of Dr. Baumbeer my predecessor, yes,” answers TronAxis, trying to be as transparent as possible within the framework of client-patient confidentiality. “Blue Berry Girl is a very capable therapist, and there’s no therapist like one who understands the patient’s viewpoint, which she does.”

“And Vain and Artery Boy–” Both men in the room stare at bee-woman Hucka, more woman than ever now her antennae have permanently retracted into her skull. They know she’s on the wrong timeline, and could set them back precious minutes, seconds. They decide not to answer her and advance to the next subject. But they then speak at the same time.

“After you, Mr. Bloch,” TronAxis graciously allows.

“No, after you sir. You’re the doctor after all. The new one.”

“Alright, if you insist, thank you.”

(to be continued?)

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This Violet Sphere

“Hucka Doobie, I think we must explore the idea that Katy Kidd, at least when she was a kid — Kate McCoy, then, I’m talking about…”

“Go on,” replied the wise bee person beside him in the White Palace.

“Well, I think she may be deaf, blind and dumb, like Tommy. Or that other person.”

“Helen Keller.”

“Yeah: that one. Anyway, that may explain a lot of her problems. Like mental illness, when she’s all grown up as–”

“–Kate McCoy,” finishes Hucka Doobie for Baker Bloch. “I *think* we should explore the idea that it’s *both*.”

—–

“Now I want y’all to *feel* the sphere around you, the tension, the *weight*. Now: breath out! Let it go.”

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