Tag Archives: 3d Venuses^^++++#$&

August 7, 2022 · 8:45 am

White Tree Village

—–

“She comes and sits by this stream every day on those rocks over there, the dreamer. Should we reveal ourselves?”

“Not yet,” directs Baker Blinker, back in the saddle after a day of rest.

“How’re you feeling, by the way?”

“Better.”

“Good to lay off the sugar every now and then anyway.”

“I suppose.” She coughs softly. “Bit of angina still,” Baker Blinker admits.

“Oh.” Wheeler Wilson peers over at her, like it might be the last time they see each other, which is, of course, ridiculous. They have too much in the world to do. Like jointly direct and produce this theatrical extravaganza. White Tree Village. Act II, Scene 1.

“We better move on down the stream. Might be something happening at the cemetery tonight.”

“Idea,” counters Wheeler Wilson, raising her finger to make a point. “Why don’t we send Bluebird instead. Bluebird of Sadness.”

“Awww,” emits Baker Blinker with a pout at this new idea reversing the happiness one.

“We could have Venus and Mistress already there, maybe digging up graves for something.”

“Jewelry?” poses Baker Blinker. “Something incriminating?”

“They’re lesbians of course. Like Tiana and Vanessa, our stars from Act I.”

“Co-stars,” says Baker.

“But Tiana and Vanessa,” continues inspried Wheeler Wilson, “are not really lovers but friends at the bottom of it. Things just *happen*.”

Baker Blinker stares over at Wheeler Wilson. They sure do, both think at the same time.

“We better get into costume, then.” Wheeler sees her emit another small cough. “You *sure* you’re up to this?”

“Okay,” says Baker Blinker, which is only half an answer since she was choking a little at the same time. She knocks her hand softly against her chest. “It will be all right,” she says to Wheeler but also to herself.

“Maybe it’s the caffeine this time more than the sugar.”

(to be continued)

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May 6, 2022 · 9:48 am

319

Venus had finished her song. Wasn’t her worst but wasn’t her best. Lorster… Lester, I recall. Must get back to the purple door, another door to open if we now have the key. And we might.

“Well I’ll be,” he said, withdrawing it from sudsy purple. Not poop after all! Thanks Dovie!

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May 5, 2022 · 9:48 am

the bird beats the bug

We follow him down to the door of — where he lived? We open the door. Not a chained prisoner as we suspected a bit. Not sentient Christmas excrement Mr. Hankey from South Park, another logical candidate. But Casey One Hole. Casey One Hole, yikes!

“A Blue Bird?!” he exclaimed, truly surprised himself. “I was expecting a Cardinal or perhaps a Rooster at worst, ha ha. This should be easy.”

“He swiftly moves toward me,” Blue Bird who opened the door to the outhouse — or tramp shack or whatever it actually was — kept on explaining to the others, “towering over me, cornering me, as the toys had tried before but didn’t succeed with. Then I looked down at his ‘weapon’ and started snickering.

“‘W-what?’ he managed between snarls, and followed the direction of my eyes.

“A mop instead of a golf club. He *had* no weapon. He swatted at my head with it anyway in the subsequent intensification of anger but it just kind of tickled my cheeks. Soft as downy wings — charmed obviously. Something had happened. Casey One Hole had been neutralized through the outhouse — I knew now this was an outhouse, a bathroom set to be cleaned, perhaps in perpetuity.

“‘Better get back to it,’ I joked while pointing in its direction as he jumped up and down in frustration, then swung the mop round and round, aiming at nothing now; crazy as a beetle. I left free as a bird. Appropriate.”

“Poe fellow,” said Mistress, seeming to miss the point but actually not. She unclasped her wing-like hands and settled back in the rocking chair again. Venus on the 1/2 bed decided to sing a song.

(to be continued)

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May 5, 2022 · 8:43 am

boulder scene/Little Tramp

“So I went to the middle of The Cross, the middle of Lineside (which is the same), just to see what was there. The well was gone, you know, the one Lou and Morris declared was the center of the world or something.”

“*Well*,” she exclaimed back. “I never.” Because she knew the center of the world was in Arkansaw, some say Miss Ouri. But it was probably Arkansaw. Or not. Debate for another time and place.

“Yeah, I had a hard time getting there with the ban lines and all but I finally found it. A rock, you see — ‘nother one. And a grassy little hill attached to it with water sprinkling all over the place.”

“Your mouth is getting lazy again,” the other with the first complained, probably Venus since she was more sharp mouthed, perhaps part bird herself with the beak and all. But that was just (in) a dream.

“Knoll,” the first defined more clearly. “Toys.”

“Yeah, those too,” admitted Blue Bird, looking to her right and left as they approached, threatening to close her in on this very spot in the center. Or as close as she could get. “I touched the green star near me. I began to dance. I seemed to worship the rock, become one with it even. That seemed to drive them away. I was alone again, but I kept wanting to dance and worship. I realized I was someone else in the moment.”

“Inky Man?” asked Mistress, the first more clearly defined as well. “I recall: Inky Man.” STOP

In her mind, she saw the black figure approach and then recede. Just like a toy.

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May 3, 2022 · 8:22 am

00320607

“I worry about Blue Rose Thorn, Mistress. I know he has become our friend Blue Bird but how does he change back?”

“Simple, my lovely Venus,” purred The Mistress, her great length folded into the rocking chair on the porch of their retirement home. “He has to find a plane that isn’t crashed and jump out of it, danger abated. That way he won’t need the wings any more. That way our friend Blue Bird can be returned to us, and Blue Rose Thorn to himself. That way…”

“… he can find his way back to being Jeffrey Phillips,” guessed Venus on the 1/2 Bed.

“Perhaps,” she answered, and unclasped her wing-like hands while settling back. The pink parrot behind her squawked softly; the first to hear. “That is not of our jurisdiction. We must first get to the Town on the Mount in the Air and see what happens.”

They sat quiet for a while, pondering all of this. Then: small rustlings in the jungle to their left. “Over there,” Mistress proclaimed, the first to see. “The future is now(!).”

“How?” Slack jawed Venus saw too. A familiar shape had emerged from the tropical leaves and bushes and walked toward a chair marking the edge of their land.

“We will let her answer that. Blue Bird!” she called over. “Come out of the shadows. Explain your presence!”

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May 2, 2022 · 7:50 am

Policeman Blue Jay

A plane crashed into Squared Root City today at 0800 AM. No one was hurt, but those who were aware took it as a sign that the character Eyela shouldn’t be renting an apartment or house in town and that she would be “crashing” the party (role play) if so. Direct link: both are Demos, as we know when making that famous tuft of purple hair transparent. No 3rd eye under there, no 3-d Venus either. Sloow and easy, they decided.

Meanwhile:

“I am ready to serve again, 3-d Venus. Just get me out of this heavenly yet heavily primmed place.”

“Done,” the great being ruled. “Done,” echoed the even greater or at least taller being behind her — Wanda, I think — adding, “we’ll come too.” They must be sick of it as well.

Blue Rose Thorn aka Jeffrie Phillips jumps out of the plane.

That was easy, he-as-she thinks when landing safely instead of smashing to the ground, becoming a type of plane him-herself. Now to steal one of these cars.

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April 30, 2022 · 4:40 pm

Zero Club (away from bar (shapeshifter))

“I recall the first time I saw you, your (one good) eye. Staring out between Moon and Saturn standing on a piano with Sun while a man with a moth on his back climbed a blood red picture behind you, using your huge ponytail to get a boost.”

“It’s not *that* huge,” she retorted.

He continued. “They said she would never be invited again to one of these get-togethers since she brought so many friends and acquaintances with her. But 3-d Venus is alive and well, still with her many fans following her around like packs of wild dogs and cats.”

“In the flesh (!).” She indicated herself, her body. What else was different about her, he wondered.

He went on. “You lived in a house much like our user, front covered in wisteria as if in a protecting fence or wall. You designed the moat to surround a castle but then had second thoughts of leaving bucolic life; castle too large to properly fit on (your) island. Stymie, husband at the time — stymied still how he could have ever goofed up on a looker like you! –”

Cute tittering; cute covering of mouth.

“…was most often away exploring Viterbo, finding relics in the ruins. Then one particular relic ruined it for you; he had to move on, *you* had to move. And so on to another Rim Island, taking the house with you and adding another husband to replace the subtracted first: Jacob, 1/2 man 1/2 alien in this case, with 2 normal eyes below a united third. You?”

“Me,” she decided to say. “Pure bred. One single eye and no normal eyes atall, they said. But that was wrong. I just covered one up, the bad one. Clockwork now.” She indicated the spinning, geared wheel on her face, very fashionable, very retro future. She pointed to both eyes at once now. “Two, you see, just like you.”

“What’s under that tuft of hair?” he said, still doubting her and tempted to reach over and lift it to see for himself. Maybe then he would know if she was happier with Stymie or Jacob.

She changed as she revealed the truth.

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February 2, 2022 · 7:22 am

00310411

“You can’t cage me up. I am like fireflies in the center of night, multitudinous yet coordinated, synchronized. Blink blink off. Blink off off. And so on.”

“Are you…”

“Don’t say it. You know who I am.”

“How about Flytrap (then)?” The blue-green gave it away.

—–

She walked backwards into the hole. All she knew tonight was that she had to find Monroe Ray and this was the place to do it.

She made sure her eyes were wide open as the oily thing took her in. (bleh!)

Then out (helb!) and backwards toward the Venus Flytrap statue — can’t look at it directly or else, she knew.

Then: white horse, good. She was there. And she didn’t have to look at its ass coming in; also good.

Tripping over a border between more dark and less dark, she tumbled backwards forwards right into his head. It was the only way to make things work, she realized afterwards — and also before. The Man known as Ray…

… was dead.

“I’ve been waiting on you,” he said mechanically, like a bull.

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January 1, 2022 · 8:52 am

seven

Norris was sitting in the hot seat up in the Red Room. He wasn’t going to leave until he’d memorized every object, every corner. His mind was downloading all. He’d been waiting for so long. He’d give a 1000 WIS maps for this, he briefly thought between measurements. 200 to 214 now. Shouldn’t be much longer. Billie Jean Kidd begged him to get up, and that this was not Clyde and that they need to get the hell outta here before… he comes back. The club man.

“The club man?” said Norris, not afraid of anyone at this point. He had so much information. Besides, he’d been killed once before by same. Just comes back in the next photo-novel. Until the end, which is now. 228: nearly there.

“Please, *please*,” she pleaded in front of him, again and again, tugging at his arm, trying to get him to move… out of that seat! “He’s coming, he’s coming!” she cried, hearing footsteps in the corridor, slow and weighty. Sometimes he slid the club, a 4 wood if she remembers correctly, on the ground beside him to add to the menacing sound. Clop-*clop* hisss clop-*clop* hisss clop-*clop*. Around the corner he appears, just as Norris is downloading it, the final one, the final piece of the puzzle.

An Ass? Casey One Hole wasn’t expecting this.

256. Download complete.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” spoke Billie Jean Kidd. “Welcome to Clyde!!”

Did it work?? We’ve unfortunately run out of posts and time in this here photo-novel and will have to wait until the next for that answer, sorry!!!

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2021-2022 WINTER”!

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May 23, 2021 · 6:46 am

pondering point

Past the pond and along a path that followed Wine Creek he went until he came to a grove of beech trees. There he built a fire against the side of a log and sat down at the end of the log to think.

Ward George had to escape art but Tennessee was all around, ready to embarrass him and make him turn red (as an apple) at every turn. Through his late night research, he knew about “Flapper” and a promise not fulfilled of artistic success, perhaps the point of it all. He was using his magnifying glass of a brain to focus on sewers and monsters therein and the death of Allen Martin who was actually a Martian (green hair in back giving it away, like a Conrad Bain). He had to find the beech grove, a place of sanctuary.

“Martin is alive,” he’d heard Duncan say while talking about the old days in good ol’ VHC City, before the coming of the… hotel? Anyway, it all started/revolved around that Black Hole of a structure created by Pitch Darkly. 97/97/97: triple number. If only the powers of VHC City back in the days had listened to his warning about the coming of The Diagonal that would link the whole continent, southwest to northeast, so powerful that its rather malevolent energy, or what turned out to be so, had to be counterbalanced by a second sw-ne line called Heart. Heart balances Head, like in a Hand (Health). But it was all suppose to happen like this most likely, George had also determined with his own head. But where, and who, was heart?

“No way out this way,” gruffed Suisan the pyramid shaped hat wearing fish butcher without turning around, bloodied cleaver at rest for now. George would have to turn back out of Kentucky back to Tennessee.

“Kay,” he said simply in response. The smell of chopped fish was overbearing.


Heading home.


“Found it!” he cried.

(to be continued)

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