Category Archives: Marwood

North again

“Well? How did you like it?”

Toothpick turned on the bar stool. “Who are you?”

She rubbed her big red horns seductively. “An Aries, why?”

Toothpick adjusted. “*What* are you?”

“They call me Wanda,” she said in a bass voice for a woman. “Big Wanda. Because of the, ahem, horns but maybe not. 1/2 –.” She stopped here, saving some grace. “I’m what you became absorbed in,” she goes again. “Just a moment ago. Just over there.” She points to the nearby black couch. “Like the one in the Bigfoot Bar, except that one’s gone now. There are others.”

Toothpick thinks back to Bigfoot. Yes, he remembers now. This was his sister in another guise. She has horns. They’re still testing couches and realities both. Yes he had been absorbed. It was nice. Too nice. He thought back to the pleasantries. A belt was involved. The Great Belt of Marwood or thereabouts, purchased in oppositely directioned and colored Black Ice down south at its Black Diamond market square, or at least as a demo. Near where they were born, actually, in the Deep South (of the Black Ice sim). The original one broke; all he has now is the one with the attached squares that say demo and follow him wherever he moves with it. Like the Gone Fishing square from before, prior to the horned one taking over. He takes another gander.

“Are you Satan?” He thinks back to well known Aries and settles on the idea of batting champ Peet Rose, red as a. Why Peet Rose? Why not Jonny Bench or some other bench player, like Leeroy “Steamboat” Kelly who filled in for the Browns when Cleveland Jim Brown became a star on Hollywood Boulevard?

—–

In a related scene, Big Wanda’s sometimes, gun toting partner Little Oakley Annie, a Leo, was visiting her own grave but having trouble remembering the name of her own star. She only recalls (with a shudder) the wide, yawning abyss just beyond, the Great Black Swamp devoid of such. Her star was the first out. Polar came to mind but that wasn’t quite it. Pole star?

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0413, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, Marwood, NWES Island, Ohio

gravity

Toddles hated to drug up her grandma to explore The City at night unless absolutely necessary. But she had to go back to Boos without her interfering *negativism* to investigate the first floor collages more and the perhaps clues she saw in them when they both visited the other day. Poor Grammy, the prescient (and precious!) toddler lamented. So fixated on the collages over at the Red Umbrella that she can’t see the advancement of all that interesting energy into the Boos series (exhibited) here above the Temple of TILE now. Toddles ganders at the toy action figure she knows later turned into Casey One Hole, another a-hole of a man, although she’s not suppose to say that word aloud. “Grammy be *damned*,” she dares while staring and glaring. “He *is* an a-hole. And what does he look over at in the other hand? A seed. A license plate that is a seed. A tiny car of a thing held by someone named Olive. Olive something. Kimball something… Oliver.” She was tuning in better, eliminating the rest of the static. “Oliver Wendell Douglas,” she speaks clearly. “And ‘A Dirty Little Wet Seed’.” We know what that is.

She thinks back to the rest of the series just viewed and how it progresses to this *point*, this seed.


Another seed? (comedy)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0408, Marwood, NWES Island

Temple tales 02

MAT looked down and only saw Mercury X. Rising on the lowest floor, who was a dummy. No organ music from the 2nd directly below him either.

There is no mixture of sacred and profane here at the temple, he thought. No un-well placed people down below to go along with a check written by Dorothy to Wheeler. Baker must be mad, victim of the 2989 curse, or 49 x 61. All will be solved when Toothpick marries his sister here Tuesday’s Thursday Wednesday’s Friday Saturday. We invented a special time for it called Munday, another Happy Day and raising the total from 6 to 7 [or would that be 5 to 6]. Mr. Z. and Mrs. M will be very proud, the best man and the maw.

He turns back to stare at the big eye oh so wanting to be well and sacred again. “But it can’t come about without your cooperation, Carrcassonnee,” he speaks aloud to the great olive being on the 3rd and top floor of the temple, the alien object all is built around. “You are the beginning and ending; you are alive, true, but your eye is not functioning properly still. You are yourself and not yourself at once. This is alchemy, this is a tin or lead voice wishing to raise itself to be gold like the visible body. We must make sound synchronize with silence. Silence is good and golden but…”

He attempts again.

“Iiiiii. Iiiiiiii-iiiii.” Like a car trying to start but can’t.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0401, Marwood, NWES Island

Temple tales 01

Harry stares outside the picture at the Earth and sees it is good. What an oddball.

On the same floor, Baker Bloch bangs out the entire organ version of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” before raising his hands from the keyboard and realizing he can’t play. That was vampire alter ego Pitch Darkly’s talent, who hasn’t been seen in a number of photo-novels. I lose count. 18 — that’s it. Or was it 12?

Ahh, *there* he is. It was Pitch all along — should’ve know. Just had to turn the camera the other way. The lack of a reflection in the organ’s strangely placed mirror should have tipped me off. Along with, of course, the deft keyboard fingering.

“Play that other Russian ‘sky’ composer I love so much,” listening wife Mary Tyler requests. She wanted Moore. And Pitch complies by belting forth “The Rite of Spring” to her great pleasure, although early on she was knocked off her perch on the organ by the heavy vibrations. Good vibrations, though, and Mary still grooved to them while laying on the floor.

She took the opportunity to also stare at the static filled tv placed nearby she was edging closer to with each crashing chord — temple must have been tilted a bit in that direction — and fell into a trance, dreaming about a trip to the Beach. Except it was The Beech. Here we come!

Upstairs:

“Iiiiii… Iiiiiii…”

“Almost got it,” Carrcassonnee adjusting MAT (Man About Time) declares hopefully but perhaps also futilely. We’ll see soon enough.

Excuse me. I have to contact someone.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0316, Marwood, NWES Island

fireproof

He was laid down in a trench and then covered head to foote with mourning flowers but not the expensive Amazonia kind that would quickly burn up the family’s meager savings. Toothpick stood back after throwing down his own bluebell blooms, picked fresh from a Meat City field behind Francis’ club just this morning, maw beside him in her Sunday finest which was actually just her everyday rags, and her hopefully soon-to-be new roommate Mr. Z beside her, complete with his continental mask laden backpack which he took most everywhere for fear of theft in this here backwoods suburb. Elberta was absent since she wasn’t suppose to see the groom the week before the wedding; Toothpick borrowed her hat to give his now sister/soon wife a type of presence.

They took one last look at blossom bedecked Uncle Luther, killed by a flu-like disease just 2 days before yesterday’s tomorrow, a stark naked Luther not wearing any overalls for the 1st time since way back in ’76 when he inherited them from his recently deceased Cousin Ferdinand, dead from a fire in the old mansion that ended the rule of the 100. Poverty: the rule of the day ever since. Some named it the Curse of the Coveralls, another word for overalls back in the day and what Uncle L. called his own, but Toothpick might have just made that up after the fact, in his head; he had an imaginative brain, almost invisible to others, or he tends to hide it behind a perpetually straw embellished mouth that he also feels distracts from his damaged teeth as he whisks it about rapidly, creating a kind of blurring effect in that area.

It was time to leave the teeny tiny cemetery next to a corner of Marwood’s scaled down Eiffel Tower and let gravedigger Big Hand Eddie do his work. Goodbye Uncle Luther. But hellooo coveralls!

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0315, Marwood, Meat City, NWES Island

no bloody babies

“Say it.”

“I know who you are. I know who is behind Billfork. It’s the oranges…”

“Say it.”

—–

“Alright what do you want me to do tonight, baker?”

“I’m not sure. We need to get you married up with your sister Elberta before the end of this here Collagesity photo-novel, number 22 in a series of 20.”

“Oranges, then?”

—–

“Oranges, then?”

“You’re insistent. On oranges.”

“Oranges, then?”

—–

“Did you like my trick with the oranges? Wasn’t that clever?”

“The Billfork Core. I’m saying that more for the reader.”

“You mean Veyo?”

“No. I have other readers.”

“Who? [delete one sentence]”

“Yeah I know. The country is *so* divided. And the debate last night… I have lost hope, Toothpick, er, Filbert.”

“I would rather you call me Toothpick. I put one in my mouth (he takes the straw out of his mouth and reinserts it), and then I become invisible. That’s the meaning of Berry at the beginning of this here photo-novel, 22 in a series of 20. Matt Berry, who did the same for ‘What’s Creeping Out The Car.'”

“I’m going to correct you on that, Toothpick. It’s…”

“Say it.”

“‘Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.'”

“Say it for real.”

“‘What They Do In the Shadows.'”

“Master Berry… Matt Berry. What else have I done, hmm? The Billfork Core, obviously. Then coded it into your precious maps.”

“Tough guy, eh?”

“Then, let’s see, Goss… he’s the religious fellow who was both an ally and axis. Different things at different times. He should have paid more attention to Billfork according to you.”

“According to *you*. Apparently.”

“Correct. Because I worked hard on that. Do you know how hard it is to create a proper audiovisual synchronicity? You only collage together the already finished pieces. It’s *tough*. Try doing that from the other side of the veil.”

—–

“And Matt Berry is a master in that show. If he had a living familiar, which he might.”

“Where is Mad Anthony? Is he in Winesap?” Toothpick reinserts himself.

—–

I have him fly over to the canal for obvious reasons. Set him down on the box of Budweisers. We’ll probably see that later in a different location now. I face him.

“Well you look just terrible. Is this how you see yourself?”

“Well I h’ain’t got two front teeth. Do I.”

“Knocked out in the war?” He stops talking to me. I realize war is like a football game. Monkees.

—–

“I’m curious, Toothpick. You handed the reigns over to The Residents at some point. You, heck, you probably created the eyeball guys, or the resonance.”

“Loco,” he answered simply.

“But then you came back strong in Uncle Meatwad.”

“As you have surmised, Zapppa helped.” Just then, Zapppa passes by in a canal boat but is unable to wave hello.

—–

“Bowie, too.”

“Bowie.” But Toothpick knew that was more in the future. Nick Danger, Dead Cat Island, Lynch. Jeffrie Phillips. Philadelphia.

Mahler.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0311, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, Marwood, Neptune, NWES Island

hiden

There was a giant book, just out of sight. 6 fingered people.

Toothpick wants to dig himself a hole and hide away from his sister problems forever.

But Baker Bloch won’t let him.

“Wake up in there! Time to help me out again, ha.”

Supper Man is determined to work off those extra pounds he’s put on lately before his marriage to Dinner Girl Saturday after next Saturday after next Saturday. Super!

I wanted to fit this in here too. Meat City, a suburb of NWES City. A paper named Post formerly owned by Grahams.

Strange do’in’s in this here NWES Island. Like New Island but different. Less sand for one thing. More green, if not more grass. But I think the two are related. Both Big Escapes, perhaps. 10’s. The search for perfection in a microcosm.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0307, Black Ice, Marwood, Meat City, New Island^, NWES Island

partners 02

Why did he switch chairs? he thinks, staring over at the weapon wielding Dinner Girl. It made his stomach turn just thinking about it! But he wasn’t in the direct line of fire. Not quite. He knew who was. History was repeating itself. But first to the other.

“Blue Berry Girl,” Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer addressed, turning to his left and prying his eyes away from the huge barrel of a gun pointed kind of right at him. 1/2 and 1/2 (oh boy). “We were expecting someone else.”

“I know. She couldn’t make it. Stomach ache, let’s say. No: let’s go with flu.”

“Has she been tested?” Dr. Baumbeer was all about testing. Because it could be one thing but it could also be another. You couldn’t know without the test. Baumbeer sneezed here, but not in his arm. In the air. The girls stared at him. Had he inadvertently infected everyone in the room? His stomach was hurting after all, although he chalked that up to the nerves of the present situation, with the gun and all. But maybe it was the other thing. He better get to the point and have a test himself. He has to see this through first.

“Dinner Girl.”

“Um hmmmmm,” she answered haughtily. She lowers the gun a bit. She’s lightening up and becoming less tense. Baumbeer’s shoulders sag, a relaxing exercise he’d learned long ago back in mummy embalming school in Egypt. He trained with the best. It was an Illuminati run campus after all, pyramids all around. And here he is. Still in the middle. A good place to be post-mortem.

“Tell me 5 things you love about Supper.”

When she answered food items instead, Baumbeer knew he was in trouble. The gun was raised again. She wasn’t taking this seriously. Because she was here to kill someone and that alone and he wasn’t here in the moment. Someone had come to life too soon with his Neptune style blonde hair and all and was foiling everything they had tried to accomplished in Our Second Lyfe. Which was to suppress the dead; keep them in their grave. No red meat for any of ’em.

(to be continued?)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0306, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, Marwood, Neptune, NWES Island

partners

The next night, Toothpick remained in the Red Rose, whatever the Red Rose turned out to be. In the moment it was a counseling center. “Alright I’ll bite. Who *are* you guys?”

“You know who we are. *Aqua-boy*. You with your Neptune hair, albeit a try out. You’re Neptune. You sit in the green chair representing the Neptune sim I mean by that. I never sit in that chair any more. Not since…” The reborn, half rabbit/half bat Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, a psychiatrist originally specializing in bodily fluids back in the days, trailed off here, unable to complete his sentence. Toothpick helped him out.

“Alcatraz? Gettysburg?” He was trying too hard. Settle down, Toothpick. Your nerves are shot. You’re getting married to your sister Sunday after tomorrow’s next Tuesday! It was wrong and both knew it, even though it was right by their culture, their upbringing. She should be sitting here opposite him, he realized. That’s Elberta’s chair over there, the red one. But she’s blonde like me. I saw her change. Toothpick again thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid his wonky, mismatched eyes upon. Darn that she’s my sister! Just my luck. “I have bad luck,” he says to the others after the settle down.

“We all have bad luck,” chips in Supper Man to his other side, still holding his stomach from eating all that food. If he could cut back on the red meat at least… Toothpick realizes something else in his psychic, post-mortem ways. *He* has a better half that should be sitting opposite *him* in this meeting. Toothpick asks him about her without giving away too much.

“Dinner,” he names. “Dinner Girl. Soon to be…” He faded here, unable to complete his sentence. His stomach hurt too much from the perpetual supper he’s always downing bite after bite. He’s getting pudgy… finally. Soon he’ll be a round ball of blubber if the Corona pirates keep storing all that food in his pantry much longer.

“She’s your sister,” tries Toothpick. Wrong again.

Dr. Baumbeer senses it is time for the meeting to start in earnest. Time to bring in the girls.

(to be continued?)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0305, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, Marwood, Neptune, NWES Island

cheeky

A deep metallic voice: “Ah yes, this must be the tube that LRPV used to destroy formerly Zen City and set up his Nowtown to rule NWES Island. Until it too was destroyed by a spawned fireball emitted from the Zen City detonation. The rule lasted about 10 seconds, then. Wait.” He checked his script. He saw the word “improvise” in bold italics after “Wait.” “Uhm. I don’t think that’s right, Wayne.” Who’s Wayne? I look off in the distance.

Sandy knew it had to happen. As he had changed others to make them appear as he wished, so too must he now pay the price. Karma, a word not to be thrown lightly around. He lay in his bed, dreaming he was another. Another Sandy. Seems like Spongebub images are everywhere these days, ba ha ha ha ha.

“Dig that chick at the bar, King Orange.”

“Sandy?” replied King Orange, now staring at her instead of clown and fellow burger baron Renaldo O’Donnell. “Sandy Chic?” he completed.

Renaldo O’Donnell glanced over his shoulder again, taking her in better. “I’d like to get her out of that little purple skirt,” he said in a male bastard way. “Like to get some of that tail.”

Sandy overheard with her sharp squirrel(-like) ears. She walked over and complied. “*Here* (*pop*), you can have them (*slam*). The things were getting stuck in the bar anyway behind me; keeping me from standing properly.”

She walked out of the Bigfoot Bar as they called it, also slamming the door.

Sandy Beech fully awakes with this, remembering everything. The stand, the poster. “Wendy,” he says aloud. “I forgot about Wendy!” He rushes downstairs to see if anything he was dreaming about remained.

Nothing but a cold, naked air blowing through an open door with a suddenly broke off handle. The wind slammed it shut again. Who would do this?

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0110, Apple's Orchard, Marwood, Meat City, NWES Island