Category Archives: Heterocera^^

1/2 and 1/2

I refuse to die this time Jerome T. Newton. I’m going beyond the end of Newton — you — into Oblong.”

“It’s that girl that’s helping you,” Newton declared between clenched teeth. “From the *fu-ture*.”

“Maybe.”

Chef-detective Keat Petty Owens had already moved on from his stalking ghost to a different gallery. He was staring at the beginning of the second 1/2 of the 10×10. 51. “It’s All Here.”

He even gave his petrified hands back to Newton as a parting gift. Goodbye demo(n) alien. Forever. Maybe.

To Montana. And beyond…

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eyes

“Where’d you get that *hair*, brother of mine.”

Toothpick pats the top of his now thickly padded skull. “Neptune hair. It’s all the rage in the central parts of The City. Just a demo for now — trying it out. You like?” He moves his piece of straw around in his mouth in rhythm with Elberta’s. Both notice. Both turn a little red (?).

“Ahem, yes I suppose.” She couldn’t say much since she was testing out a demo as well. Silence for the moment, then: “Do you think he’ll still show up tonight?”

“Who?”

“You know. Spongebub. The reason we’re here. We need to tell him that his wife is still alive and well in Urqhart or thereabouts, selling rental units for the Illuminati. That’s the organization she was working for all along. It was the drink–”

“Sponge*bob*?” Toothpick was backing up, unable to understand the line of thought pointing to the single eyed ones, The Residents and Firesign Theatre (or Theater) both.

“*Bub*,” reinforced the sister. “We’ll call him bub in this lower, more paradoxical dimension. She reconsidered the word. What was the adjective form of parody? She didn’t know. She remained quiet, waiting for him to talk again.

“You mean the little yellow fellow, the square one?”

“Yes. Sponge*bub*,” she pronounced again.

“You mean like the little yellow, square fellow on the floor beside me right now?”

“Um. What?”

“He’s right here. Beside me. He’s been here for a while. I thought you knew.”

Elberta stands up, peers over the edge of The Table and sees the top of Spongebub’s square head with its big goofy peepers ogling (?) back. “Oh. Okay.” She keeps staring, looking for signs of life. “Why isn’t he *doing* anything — saying anything?”

“Go ahead, little fellow,” encouraged Toothpick by his side.

“Bahahahaha!” suddenly came the activated sound upon this request. “She has a square just like *me*!” He reads above her head in his high pitched and oh so nasal voice. “Gone… mo… ing.” Spongebub puts a yellow finger to his now down-turned line of a mouth, a thinking gesture complete with bulging eyes rolled upward. “Err.” He stares forward again. “What’s a mo-ing?”

They correct him as one, synchronized once more.

Back to the canal for the both of ’em.

—–

Buster gave Duncan what he thought might be good news. “They decided to get married after all, the brother and the sister. Disturbing I know. But par for the course in the Deep–”

Duncan hung up. He was already mentally prepared to move to the Sunklands to stay with Elberta and Toothpick. It was as if a cushy rug had been rudely jerked out from under his feet, leaving him to fall to a rock hard floor he understood all too well. It was his cell.

(to be continued)

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Phils

Two realities were superimposing themselves on top of each other, inadvertently (perhaps) creating chaos and confusion. He simply didn’t know; he simply couldn’t understand. In the moment.

I’ve created the bare bones of a consignment store on my Rubi property not seen since the very beginning of this here photo-novel, number 22 in a series of 20. The first thing I decide on to fill out the 4 square emptiness is a Volvo station wagon, which definitely does *not* have two handles on its back door nosiree.

Let’s just prop it up outside for now against the building’s unfinished, plywood exterior.

Then I add another image inside that has become meaningful to me today: the collage characters I call Source (Male) and Lake (Female) — perhaps another version of Adam and Eve and the whole Apples story — *hiding* something. Like we are seeing through a wall into another dimension.


red dress

And since the Tacoma consignment store the impossible station wagon is driving by on N Proctor Ave in that first picture above is named Megs and Mo, I suppose Cassandra City’s Moes Bar is related somehow. The transparent Source and Lake image comes from M & M as well — very important there. More soon.

“Phil had the richest, most complicated sense of humor of the four of us,” said his Firesign Theatre partner David Ossman. “He loved what he called ‘the stupid’ and he could twist it into surreal pieces of head-beating comedy. His High School Lunch Menus, the Irish guy who taught how to paint like the insane, the Funny Names Club of America. He had the whole range. Bergman and Austin were really the Lennon and McCartney of the group.”

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set

“She h’ain’t coming!” So shrill and trilling for a chicken, who usually wax eloquently when they have that talking device inserted down their throats. But Toothpick knew what happened; voice matches emotions of the moment. He figured Elberta ran off with that [delete name] boy Jimmy John Jones who she’s been going on about for months now. She’s bucking tradition in more ways that one. So she sent her messenger chick. The coward. He’d understand. He didn’t want to see her that way neither. This was his sister for God durn sake. His *twin*. He begins to think of running away himself. Maybe he’ll just follow her and Jimmy to wherever they went. That’ll teach ’em. He would have understood. He h’ain’t no looker like Jimmy. Everything will be safe and above board. He always liked Jimmy anyway. Despite the, um, well…

—–

“We’ll have to order you a new part from Black Ice. I think it’s down in the belt section.”

“No.”

“You’ll get use…”

Duncan Avocado kept shaking his head. He wasn’t going to budge on this. Pot-D can do whatever they like to him in return. Send him back to Dixie for all he cares. Then the memories flood back, the Slave-up vending machine, etc. Two months is a long *long* time down there (in Hell). He doesn’t want to relive that pain, even from a safe distance. He forces himself to come back to the present. He fondles his skeleton heart necklace, the one Buster gave him almost two years ago now. He reconsiders.

Buster Damm senses the change of heart and sweetens the package. “Elberta is a *looker*. You’ll get use to the hick ways. And they’re not really from the Deep South anyway, Mississippi and all. They’re from the very southern part of Black Ice where we use to have the Boos and Bogota…”

Duncan was nodding his head now. He’d given in. To whatever they had in mind. Mention of The River sealed it.

“No three word name. One, or, at best, two.” He spits in his hand. Buster spits in his. They shake.

Reality changes.

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lighten up 02

“Let’s go with *this* picture instead, Hindsight, er, Golden.”

“Yes, call me Golden. For now.”

“O-*kay*, Golden (*tee hee*).”

“More light, I agree.” Hindsight/Golden knew the squeaky voiced sponge being was always right. He was worshiped in many galaxies.

Those who didn’t worship him were often left in the dark. Pitchfork territory.

He has a son. I’ll deal with him next. Hindsight/Golden turns here toward the CB Dylan dresser. “And the wife.”

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Chef-de…

“You are the station master, sir. You must know something.”

“I am… The Devil.”

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the source and the lake 02

“We must keep testing games, Chef-inspector *Petty*. Carcassonne is good, but–”

“Carcassonne is the one,” Petty emphasized rapid fire, refusing to play this new one. It was too far along in the year.

Hindsight (Golden) kept waiting for collage elements to show up as repercussions. And there they are.

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the source and the lake

I can see the Rainbow Sphere but I can’t get to it. Banned. Roger Pine Ridge still could, though. And therein lies the problem.

We must return to Iris.

“Some year we’re having, eh Spore?”

“Iiiim LOVING it!”

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Piera

https://bakerbloch.com/2017/02/11/48909/

“So what is ‘Billfork’ you might be asking?” then said Baker Bloch. “Well, on the audio side it’s primarily ‘Boom Dot Bust’ by Firesign Theatre. On the video side it’s the movie ‘Northfork’ by the Polish twins, Michael and Mark. As Tin S. Man alluded to, both feature towns that have to be moved in order to be saved. The town of Northfork is being flooded by a new lake. Billville is threatened by tornadoes, and also, strangely and syncily, a flood at the end, where the mayor has to turn into a fish and ‘swim, swim, swim’ to stay alive.”

Baker Bloch positioned 8 oranges around The Table instead of handing them to people in chairs like before. He was about to fill in the spaces between the oranges with lemons and limes as prescribed by the Billfork Core Diagram when chef-inspector Keat Owens stopped him. “Stand back and look what you have,” he rather commanded. “But –” Baker protested, “I haven’t finis–.” Owens interrupts him by reciting all the numbers that count: “1 – 4 – 7 – 10 – 13 – 16 – 19 – 22. And who is 22?” Baker counted clockwise as well from his south-southwest position, all the clockwork oranges, just to double check. He stared at Owens. He points at him with one of his now orange free hands.

“Correct. Here’s what we’re going to actually do next. Sit down beside me at ‘1’ and we’ll start.” With this, he had light bulb headed Curled Paper go in back and bring out the game that everyone was raving about lately over in The City.

—-

“Do I still need my orange?”

“No.”

“‘Cause I’m hungry.”

“Go ahead. You can have mine too.”

“Bravo. So what’s this game called again?”

They then built The River from certain pieces inside the box and named it Amazon.

(to be continued)

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spotlight

snapshot8583_001

“Let’s take you somewhere and put you to work, Mr. Author — Mr. Detective. How about Perch, hmm? Wait… that’s currently closed for ceiling repairs. Blue Feather it is!”

—–

“Good to see you back on the case, Chef-Detective Keat Owens,” spoke Baker Bloch over to the new but very familiar face. A bargain for 35 lindens in olden times.

The chef-detective shook his head, as if just waking up to the reality around him. Which was true. “I was on the ceiling,” he said, eyes blinking at Baker trying to focus in. “The building — was being repaired. An art installation. Then…”

“Murder?” Baker Bloch knew it could be the only reason Owens was back. Grand larceny or burglary or even manslaughter wouldn’t be enough.

“A girl. A friend of the 4 squared one.”

Spongebub? He hadn’t thought about that name in a long time. Not since the early days of Rubi. Speaking of which…

“4 men in one,” Keat Owens continued, as if Baker Bloch had said nothing, which he didn’t. “One of tin; one of glass — no, fur; one of steel; and then one of…” He tapered off, unable to think of the last element. That’s because it was imaginary. Baker Bloch explained this to him, along with the others.

“Superman?” he replied about the man of steel. “No, that doesn’t sound right.”

“Superdude?” Baker then altered. “Superguy?” he tried again. “Super*bub*?”

Then the reality of the overarching *umbrella* name kicked in. The chef-inspector was beginning to remember a whole world abducted from reality. “Someone has lost their bikini bottom.” His eyes were as big as quarters now.

Next stop: Bigfoot Bar or thereabouts.

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