Category Archives: Gaston^^

JuliaN

“Two Joint Joints, side by side. One in Gaston — here. The other: NWES. How could this be?” Then Greg Ogden remembers who he is, deep down. He loses the hair, the campy hobo shirt. The Red Cross returns.

He recalls bastard pirate Randolph two (motel) doors down, not one to cross by any means.

4×4: it was all coming back to him.

He has to reach Climax.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0603, Gaston^^

DEAD End Street

He wasn’t budging, this Big Black Smoke. “I have as much right to be here as you, red boy,” he declared from his cheap, green box seat. “You ain’t paying no rent.”  He settles back, crosses his arms behind his head. “Neither am I.”

Greg Ogden argued that he is about to pay the rent but is still trying the apartment out at times.

“Times what?” replies the larger, black man. “42?”

Greg didn’t know the answer to that. He didn’t know everything. He remained silent, contemplating whether to leave. But *he* had as much right to be here as Big Black Smoke.  This remained a stare down for now. He told him that.

“Hey,” then declared BBS. “You ain’t that red dude who’s going to marry that red haired gal in the church next door this coming Sunday? She’s been talking about you. About how you become cross sometimes.”

Greg said he wasn’t this person, although he likes to dress in red. Greg Ogden explains that he use to be a red mechanoid playing in a punk band with 2 other, differently colored mechanoids. “We got kicked out of Olde Lapara Towne due to a noise ordinance,” he furthered. “We came here to escape, to *hide* and regroup. But this place…”

“I know I know,” responded Big Black Smoke, looking around at all the red walls surrounding them. Like a cell. “This place changes you.” He was starting to feel sorry for the boy. “You know Golden Jim, the police chief? Don’t confuse him with Golden Joe. That’s a chef. You see what I mean about this town, boy? This New (Lapara) Towne? Same as the old town, hmph.”

Greg says he’s trying to leave but can’t. “Stewart’s dead,” he offered, nodding toward the window with the bay view. “Newton owns that ship out there now. That’s his brother.”

“I *know* who Newton is.” Big Black Smoke resisted the urge to call him ‘fool’, but he’s certainly trying to step off a ledge now. “You can’t leave once you stay here long enough.” Big Black Smoke had figured out who Greg Ogden was, and that this was his old apartment. Golden Jim had told him about the 2 Greg(g)s, one with the extra ‘g’, or, better (explained Golden Jim), the ‘g’ *stolen* from his last name. This theft bought him some jail time. Golden Jim wasn’t here then, but, again, this was legend. Like the day Pierre Schaeffer rode into town and stole all the Berries and took them off to La La Land. Even nimble Thimble couldn’t escape. Ahh, Thimble, thought Big Black Smoke, traveling back further in time to a thinner physique. Those were the days. The Dark Ages. I wish those old times could return. But Pierre changed all that. Him and the eye guy.

“This is *Jasper*, fool.” Big Black Smoke couldn’t help himself. “You’re stuck as much as those *flies* over in Central Park!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0602, Gaston^^

Belt

He was having a dream again of that planet. Totally red, totally rusty. He was looking for Stewart this time, but Stewart had passed on to another realm. The Land of the Living. Because, in the dream, *he* was instead dead, trying to make his way back from, shall we call this Hell? No, Greg Nash Ogden corrected himself while staring around. Too luminescent, he decided, to be that place of anguish and gnashing of teeth. But certainly red like that place. No fire, though. Better wander around while I have my wits.

He eventually stumbles upon the underground base, vast in size.

A robotic weapons factory, at least in part.

But no food. He realizes he might starve down here. To life?

He receives a name on a back wall. Mars.

Greg Ogden wakes up, his mouth dry as desert.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0516, Gaston^^, Mars^^

skipperless skipper

He stares out at Stewart’s boat in the bay while calling.

“Hello, Stewart?” Indistinguishable answer. “Oh, cool. Stewart’s big brother. I remember you.” Answer. “Oh… sorry to hear that.” Answer. “Oh that’s too bad, oh man. When’s the…” Tangential answer, still indistinguishable. “Well, my deepmost condolences, Newton.” Final reply. “Goodbye. Let me know if I can help in any way.” He hangs up with this. “Guess I won’t be using *Newton’s* sim skipper out there tomorrow after all. Maybe never. Mr. Babyface is going to be *so* disappointed. I’ll have to find another way off this isle of isolation. Poor Stewart! Disappeared inside a watery sinkhole.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0515, Gaston^^

Steamboat

Mr. Babyface looked down at the large palm tree The Man About Time was currently referring to. “The Hole is gone,” he had just said about the mysterious object formerly underneath it. “When Mick jumped in, the effect was gone. The great 2-n-1 was over.”

“Takes 2 to know, yeah,” Mr. Babyface says in response now, thinking he needs to phone up Greg Ogden as soon as possible. Or, on the other hand, Gregg Oden, if he’s in that form presently. He’d been romancing a living, breathing Mandela Effect for months and didn’t know it, didn’t know the term for it. The Man About Time is attempting to clear this up.

“Gaston has a lot to do with this,” then offered MAT in his mild voice while scratching the back of his neck on the couch. “Changes people, and sometimes not for the good.” He scratches more. “Sometimes… for the bad.”

“And that’s where Greg said he was going in that letter he wrote me,” completes Mr. Babyface while turning, more eager than ever to pick up the phone.

But which way to go, he thinks, receiver in hand just later. Does he go to Gaston or does Greg come here?

“I’ll come to you,” responds Greg Ogden at his red Gaston house. “They frown on mutanty looking people around here,” he said, referring to Mr. Babyface’s baby faced head.

“Well I *never*.” But he was coming back and that was the most important thing. He was pulling him out of *there*.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0514, Gaston^^, Lower Austra, Nautilus^^

Necksity

“It was like it was staring at him, right in front of his face. (Blue) Improvio and (red) Chroma: the same, or two things spinning around the same, pretty axis. And who was he? Formerly Core-Alena the walking talking centre tree, yes. But now: Sidechick Corea. Footsteps outside — uh oh. Pretty Man approacheth. But is she still a man? So close to the transition now. The door opens. He stands.

(Face) scars are still in place but that’s about it for the man bits.

“Jump on my shoulders for the last time, Sidechick. I want to know the final truth. I’m ready to switch over to Jasper.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0512, Gaston^^

Big Shift

Soon he had reached the end of his Abbey Road on the west edge of Vail.

One step further…

… and he was in a different place altogether now. Vila. Uncle Zach was (again: miraculously!) waiting for him in his Calypso Tuk Tuk Taxi.

“Where to, Butt?” He meant bud. Or did he?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0510, Gaston^^, Purden/Snowlands^

Gaston = NYC (among other things)

The Lord balancing Sugar Houses.

We know this is “Abbey Road”.

And that something is definitely going on at the Rhino along it (portal).

We know a lot about this place by now. This Gaston. But we haven’t quite grasped the story within the story. Is there one? That’s what I’m aiming to find out.


“We’ll have to kill him.”

Zach’s still waiting for Georgie Porgie and Heidi Widey to emerge from the Joint Joint. He fears the worse. He’s been there for 2 days now. But he’ll wait till The End.

What really is at the end of Abbey Road?

Where have all the Berries gone? Where’s Sugar Dumpling? Where’s… Jacob I.?

We know it is a place to hide (Hidden Vilage). Hitgal represents someone.


“But… what’s you think?”

Why the doubling with the Vilania safe hub? Why can’t Hank Graphite get back there instead of here?


“It wasn’t suppose to be this way.”

Why flies in Central Park of all places?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0507, Gaston^^

back room

“You shouldn’t be smoking that in here Heidi. We’re just kids here, you know. What if we get *caught*?”

“Speak for yourself, George,” she replied about the kid part.

The boy looks around. “So — we’ve turned down the lights. You’ve smoked half your joint; I’ve drank half my coke. Where is she?”

“Just give her some time.” Heidi Hunt Ives takes another toke. Again: she’s not really a kid.

“12:36 now,” he says after checking his Mick Mouse watch. “Maybe we should go. I need to get back to the park.”

“Well there you go,” she offered about the time. “Give it another minute.”

—–

12:37:

“Oh my God,” she whispers over. “There she is.”

“Where? Where?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0506, Gaston^^

Gastonites

“Well here we are lady,” spoke Uncle Zach, currently (and miraculously!) posing as a taxi driver. “The Joint Joint. It’s haunted you know. That back room. Back in the back. There’s people back there that shouldn’t be there.”

“I don’t care,” Heidi replied innocently with naive voice.

“Two eggs, they say,” he started again, hands extended and wavering to accent the spookiness. “Floating in mid air without any wires.”

“I’m not scared of eggs.” So child-like. Very surprising (again).

“You haven’t seen *these* eggs. Different colors they are. One glowing red, the other: green. Two colors that don’t go together well —  at all.  And: are you going to get out or not?” His haunted story had run its course. For now.

“Goodbye Mr. Taxi Man. ”

A boy appeared in the chair beside the door. Heidi changed as well.

“Shall we enter, Georgie Porgie?”

“After you, um, Heidi Widie.”

He always had trouble keeping up.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0505, Gaston^^