September 18, 2022 · 6:45 am

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Unexpected development at the vet’s office. Another numbers crunching dog was already there, typing on his laptop as fast as possible. The screen shots changed at a rapid, even amazing pace. But although there were a dizzying amount of different angles, the location was obviously the same. The Red Room, sometimes known as the Red Bathroom. Also sitting Norris had found it after a long long search.

Johnny Black tried to remain as calm as possible. “Your dog?” he said over. “Talented,” he added.

“Not my dog,” replied the man with the bleached out face. Don’t look at me, he thought. Anywhere but me.

“Oh.” Johnny Black had a rethink. Norris was obviously studying what the labrador was looking at intently. Not his dog, but Norris was fascinated with the information it was receiving. Another Universe was already in place here. Removing the numbers from his own dog wouldn’t work! Darnit! Drat! Wheeler won’t take this well, he knows. He digs further to find out the source of the problem. “Interesting room he’s got there. Very red it appears.”

“Red Room, yes. I’ve been… searching for it…” Norris knew to shut up.

“Red Room you say. Is that the same as the Red Bathroom?” Johnny Black was testing Norris to see if he even knew of the latter, and that it might be the same as the former, given the right circumstances. Because everything hinged on that association now. Everyone in a high enough circle of information knew the Red Room was ultimately inaccessible. But a red bathroom — could be different.

Norris dared to look over, understanding the same. Their eyes met, their eyes locked. This was a race to the end with the loser becoming dead. Norris stood up, Johnny Black stood up. Norris took one step forward, so did Johnny as he gathered up the dog to leave. Norris took one two threefourfivesixseven. He was running out the door down the street. Johnny was right behind him, or right beside him. Maybe in front, even. Both had to go to the bathroom and it was urgent in each case — couldn’t wait. Just over there next to the swamp…

—–

“Next!” Oh frick, thought Abby the vet and vet assistant both today, seeing the empty waiting room besides Sparkles. Another owner on the run. She hasn’t got time for this.

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September 17, 2022 · 5:01 pm

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The operation to take the points off his ears was a success, and they didn’t ask too many questions about his origins, thanks to receiving a considerable amount of not-so-hard earned cash on top of their regular fees for such surgery. Johnny Black had it in abundance after all, byproduct of his new name as stated. Hats smats. Besides, he couldn’t find one that suited him, plus cover up the aberrant ears well enough. So: this.

Only Wheeler sent him a get well card but that was enough. Now to remove the numbers from the dog to fully complete the transformation from good to evil, a trickier situation potentially. Because recitation of those 4 digits in those 24 iterations kept the world spinning as we know it, with everything in its proper place. Without them: chaos; The Abyss. Johnny Black, our former Newt, had to time it just right, thread a needle, walk a tightrope, insert your own idiom. Remove the numbers, gather up the cleaned out dog, and high tail it outta this place, this Paper-Soap. He’s not worried about it long term. The psychic children over in Elementary High can create a temporary holding universe until they can figure out what happened, when it will be too late. They’ll have to find another control animal which will take time. Maybe Johnny can air mail them one when he gets stabilized elsewhere. He likes this place! He doesn’t want it to end, with Paper over there and Soap over here again. The two should remain united. Just like Wheeler and himself.

To the vet!

(to be continued)

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September 17, 2022 · 9:16 am

Man in Cash

“Maybe the flag with the black spider on it makes people nervous.”
–Young Greti, Sound of Music

The more modern German colors of red, yellow, were fading fast, leaving only Black. Johnny Black, formerly known as Axis but changing his name for obvious reasons; same for his dog Swastika who goes by Spider now (thanks Greti!).

He also finds a substantial amount of money has been deposited in his bank account for some reason (goes with the new name, actually) and acts quickly to purchase this out-of-the-way, sans-indoor-plumbing shack he’s had his eyes on for a while. Center or near the center of some kind of Paper-Soap psychic anomaly, at least at one time. He’s eager to try to resurrect, and he thinks he knows how.

He’s also gained 6 inches of height after, ahem, opening the box. It’s actually a different core I’m working with here, *not* Baker Bloch. A more suitable companion to Wheeler Wilson, a kind of reflection really. Sometimes also goes by Wilson Wheeler just to confuse and conflate the two even more. I suppose a comparison with notorious Real Life crinimals Bonnie and Clyde is not out of order either, especially given the involved women’s matching caps. Bonnie could have been an inspiration for Wheeler, along with Prince and his Raspberry Girl of course.

Newt’s also queerly acquired pointy ears in the transformation, like Spock. Best to get a hat soon as well.

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September 17, 2022 · 8:56 am

new outdoorsy “center”

Fans of LOST might like this place I found yesterday on one of my daily hikes. Very reminiscent of Jacob’s Cabin — in the middle of frick’n nowhere.

Questions abound. Who lived in the cabin? Why did they leave? Was it just a hunting cabin? Has it been totally forgotten about over time due to its remoteness? Why the sink in the wall? etc., etc.

Next I visited a cemetery with tombstones variously marked Main, Maine, and Mains. I sensed a branching of probable realities, especially when a stream called Mine is nearby. Did a Main, Mine, Maine or Mains inhabit the cabin? Did the cabin, as an anomaly of some kind, cause this apparent distortion or blurring of names in the first place?

https://lostpedia.fandom.com/wiki/The_Cabin

addition: Did you know the Man in Black lived in Jacob’s Cabin? Would explain the higher ceiling.

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September 15, 2022 · 4:47 pm

time machine (have a seat)

I figured I was in the right place because of the flag. A community where Big Pipe and Little Pipe meet to create Double Pipe, a juncture of 2 supposedly equal yet opposite realities. This is America as we know it, red (white) and blue. This is the Key.

…to the east of Detour is Keymar, to the north of Detour is another unincorporated community called Keysville…

About 1.6 million Americans don’t have this in their house (no pipes!). Here: front and center in the middle of town, like a planted Tardis.

We begin heading backwards.

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September 15, 2022 · 4:11 pm

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“So it’s all settled. We know what the head in the center of the sink is.”

“We *do*?” spoke Wheeler, scratching her still beret topped head and trying to look innocent. At least she’d taken the key out of her mouth and dropped it in to be disposed of. *Tried* (damn chain).

“Where’s Baker?” Newt looked all around, as if the true owner of this blog and attached photo-novels, heading toward 34 in number, would manifest from a purple or raspberry tinted corner or wall.

“He needs to be in on this yarn, this story,” agreed Wheeler, also looking around the swamp shack but expecting less. The Prime Minister, the only one who can save the plot, the key. And it seems that he already did. Thanks to the levels, the nodal points. Now we can enter Pipersville unencumbered, he might utter if he were here. But is it really about Pipersville, a Maebaelia location famous for its sinkhole not thought about in a while? We have to think like we’re playing 3 dimensional chess. A bit like Spock. We have to get smarter, or at least more awake.

Pipersville obviously relates to pipes. The key should have passed through, Wheeler realizes, gone down. Yet it stayed at the top — caught. The key to the box that is a house, perhaps this shack itself, inner absorbing outer, passing through each other again and again ad infinitum. We should never have opened it, Wheeler understood for not the first time. Pictures. Occident separated from Orient. East over here, west over there, hemispheres apart.

Inner and outer, inner and outer…

Maybe only Nautilus can save us after all.

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September 15, 2022 · 3:37 pm

landmimes 03

“See what we did, Keith B.? I *told* you we couldn’t avoid Horns.”

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September 15, 2022 · 3:36 pm

landmimes 02

Beyond the resourcefulness of its porcine citizens, there wasn’t much to recommend the small mining town of Rumpus Ridge. But even in such a hardscrabble place, they had created something they could be proud of: over the years they had collected the biggest ball of string in the world. Folks came from miles around to see it. But one night, a flood carries their prized string away and washes it ashore near the town of Cornwall. Rather than return it, the Cornwallians decide to keep the string for themselves.

https://foursquare.com/v/porters-sculpture-park/4cb6046256fca1cd653a5318/photos

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September 15, 2022 · 2:26 pm

landmimes 01

“Go ahead and take off your head and roll it into the center of the sink. That way you’ll be free of it. You can enter Pipersville unencumbered.”

“Of what?” Hucka Doobie speaks behind me in the void. “Yarns?”

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September 14, 2022 · 3:54 pm

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He takes another drag off his cigarette, stares over again. “Swamp Shack Purple,” he speaks aloud after exhaling, reviewing what he currently knows. “With the purple and raspberry furniture now; just shifted over wholesale from Swamp Shack Brown where it was before — on Halloween Day 2021, when Wheeler and I last visited together. She wore a raspberry beret for the 1st time, I believe. She was fascinated by that *box* — couldn’t stop staring at it, eyes darting all around. Then the purple photo with the, ahem, rump also happened sometime but (obviously?) not here. Futurist outfit.” He takes another drag, another exhale of smoke. It might get a bit in his eyes this time. He’s starting to have trouble seeing the truth, what actually occurred and the probable realities involved. A tub was there — he got that. He decides to bring Wheeler over, maybe his wife but maybe not his friend. Unless they could go back in time. To that night. So that is what he requested after the teleport invite was accepted. Wheeler was always online anymore. No problem contacting. Now to convince her .

“No go,” she said, complicit at least in the outfit. “We were in the Brown Shack before. Now we’re in the Purple Shack. Different perspective.” But then they found the key in the sink, right as Wheeler was literally washing her hands of the whole situation. The water ran right over it, but the thing, on its chain as it were, was a little too large to wash down the drain. Their story and perhaps marriage was saved by the chain. Now they can open that box.

“Dearest!” she called over before the red and violet cups. “You need to see this!”

(to be continued)

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