Tag Archives: Amos Sandman^*~

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Rock climbing at Light of Aurelia and thinking about Lafferty’s Shining People.

In neighboring Hammerhead Light:

“One day I’m going to beat my vertigo, Wendy, and make it all the way to the top of that thing.”

“Sure you are Sandy. And I guess next you’re going to ask me *not* to change into that dress you like currently.”

“I didn’t say that.” But Wendy was right. He’d never make it to the end. Not without some serious help.

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00230406

“In looking at them, Hucka D., it seems the green one is the only pickle. One Pickle, then, not two.”

“No, both are Pickles. Both have the Squishy Pickle restaurants. The sand colored one in fact has two, which makes up for the (flimsy) shape in my humble estimation.”

“Takes two to know,” ventures Baker Bloch.

“Suppose. (pause) Let’s get this over with, then.”

Baker merges the pictures before them.

“A jumbled mess,” offers Baker. “And probably a copyright infringement as well.”

“From the future.”

Baker Bloch stares. “Adam and Eve, pheh.” He sighs. “The Mann was right in stepping away from all this. Where is The Mann anyway?”

“Maybe that’s next.”

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00230405

“Two pickles,” she explained later. “One yellow or sand colored: here. Then the one over there that’s more green.”

“Like my apples!” exclaimed listening and looking Harrison Ford Jett to her side in Spunky’s cafe down on the docks. Charlene’s home away from home, now that she’s in the thick of her dissertation. Detailed description of Knob Noster coming up next! Charlene looks over at her good friend Harrison, then down at his apples. Still in place. Still hasn’t been sold to the highest bidder.

“I suppose so,” she realized, and turned back to the girl holding the pickles in the doctored picture on her computer screen (she wants to be a doctor, after all). “But: sand. Sandman. The sandy pickle. That came first, although it was formed second.”

“What does that mean?” Harrison F. Jett instinctively held one of his apples then the other, as if testing they were the same. Then he turned red as a winesap as he realized Charlene noticed what he was doing. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Force of habit — I’ve been thinking a lot about them later. What it would be to be without them.”

“Well… maybe that fits into this as well.” She puts hand to chin while activating deep thinking mode. She scrolls to the next picture, undoctored this time. She’s losing vision of the future. Detailed description of “Knobby” will be difficult, nay impossible to achieve. She faces the prospect that it could be a stumbling block on her way to fame and glory.

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Pickle 01

“Let’s get this over with, Sandman.”

“What. Are you going to try to *eat* me again? Ant-man. Man who thinks he is an Ant.”

“I might,” the man who thinks he is an ant threatened.

“You know what will happen.”

“I do.” Ant-man knows he can’t go through with it. The pictures of the merged mess simply wouldn’t show up in the blog. Copyright infringement from the future. Santman cannot be born.

“Well… what then?”

“*You’re* the one who came all the way out here to find *me*. You tell me.”

“Right… forgot. Umm, we can merge in a different, um, way.”

“I don’t swing that way, Sandman,” Ant-man says with a slight chuckle.

“No not that.” But Sandman here contemplates it might be just that. He imagines himself leaning into Ant-man for a kiss, a sweet one and not using any tongue atall. Because there’s no telling what kind of tongue that ant-head holds. He doesn’t want to know! No, no lovers in this picture. Instead:

“Ant. Man. Man of Ant.”

“Yes?” Ant-man was waiting for *something*, but he knew a big thing was about to be revealed. Bigfoot big perhaps.

“My real name… is Pickle.” A rainbow butterfly flutters by at this point. Wonder where that came from. Perhaps the Wonder Years. Before the Fire Tree.

(to be continued)

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Santman

She watched him walk away after they freed him from the Bigfoot picture in the soon-to-be but not yet present consignment store with the old clothes and such. No explanation, no thanks. Just walking. He had to see someone *immediately*. A man posing as an ant, the big hypocrite. Sticking me in that photo with that hairy, stinky… *monster*! He needed to be dealt with. No love here.

He kept walking, right out of Black Ice and into the Great Beyond.

—-

“Harrison Ford Jett,” he spat out. “I sense the force is strong with you, buh huh huh (*sip*), buh huh huh huh (*sip*), buh (*sip*, *sip*), huh.”

“How much for the apples?” He wasn’t in the mood to beat about the bush. He wanted to get rid of the chafing, gnawing things asap; let someone else get gnawed on for a while. He takes another drag off his Chesterton Lite, waiting for an answer that never came.

Instead: “You know Bigfoot.” The half wine colored half ant, half man paused, taking in the surprised expression re his statement seemingly out of left field, or thrown back over a left field fence or something. In truth, he was the shirt she wore, but that will take a bit of explanation. Another night it is!

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Black Ice

“I remember you, girl. From Paperville!”

“Right, right. The Little Cafe on the Way!” Both open their mouths further in surprise but never get to the heart of the oddity. Rabbit 02 in the corner of the fake flowery field worships on. Fertility. Much fertility.

“I remember you too, Birmingham.”

“Shut up Muff,” the fellow red fox hissed over. “I did what I had to do.”

“Yeah right, hmph.”

Rabbit 02 has a new husband. Rabbit M4, who lives just off the freeway. He usually stays over at Rabbit 02’s place because of the noise. He has a lot of patience and ironically he is a doctor too (optometrist), so more patients. When Rabbit 02’s family got together at Thanksgiving, he and Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, Rabbit 02’s son from husband no. 3 — Rabbit 01 we’ve called him in this here blog — got along swimmingly, being fellow doctors (and swimmers) and all. Now in the last couple of weeks she’s had 3 more from M4: Uffcott, Hinton, and Winterbourne, because he was, since his birth came the first of December and the other two, slightly older triplets came out a little before midnight. They usually keep them over at the “highway house” with housekeeper Sarah because, again, of the noise. M4 is patient, but he needs a lot of quiet because of all the research he’s doing into creating a super eye capable of perpetual self healing — alien science we’re talking about here, top secret hush hush stuff. He can’t discuss it with anyone. All his friends and relatives think he’s just selfish separating himself from his children, not knowing he has very good reasons, very good indeed.

The wife finishes her worshiping and walks back over through the fake flowery field between the two girls who had turned their backs on each other, and between the two foxes who had also grown apart.

“I hear the town has a temple, dearest. I wonder if we could fit in a visit between your shops.”

“Maybe,” shot back Rabbit 02, irritated that he would ask. “Consignment store next door, or so that’s what the map says: Odds & Ends. I need to pick out some outfits for Christmas for the big ta-do at Ben the Parrot’s.”

“That foul mouth bird brain!” Rabbit M4 wanted to yell with his tongue at the top of his lungs but of course bit it. They should never have started selling those animal talkie toys, he laments.

They move next door. No consignment store there. Yet.

Instead: “Come here dear. There’s a man stuck in this picture!

Dear?”

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take and make

Sandman walks the rail, continuing to look for the one he calls The Spitter. He pauses to gander at this collection of junk on one side, knowing, through it, that he is indeed on the right track.

Onward…

—–

He finds another Lane to add to Penny, Arnold, Shelly at the end of this track, the latter a Firesign Theatre fan and a close match to his pattern, a two fer one fer zero kind of deal-i-o. Man.

The banana indicated *himself*.

He had no problem going further. He’d been walking away from Love for a looong time.

—–

Ant-man walked out of the rain to enter the lane.

—–

The rain catches up with him at The End. He is home.

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no Bland

The Donut Hole, Marty thinks while looking down at it from the high window of the Starlite Lounge, fortunately for him and others one of the last Pipersville landmarks Lt. Salt had on his list to check. Didn’t get there. “And Sweet Alice is the filled void in the middle; no need to go back,” he spoke aloud while turning his red topped option back to the turntables. For every season, I suppose — seasoning. Pepper in this case. Pepper black starry void of 1975 or thereabouts.

He stares thataway now at what’s being filmed…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0610, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Pipersville/Sink X^

Penning 01

The Man(n) finds The Men again in Penning. Fascinating.

Must have something to do with the nearby Linden pine forest, he concludes correctly.

He decides to stay in this sim and paint. But how to get rid of what’s already here?


“Buggers.”

He then eats with 3 ant related avatars…


“Ummmm. That’s pretty good, Ant. Thanks!”

… before falling asleep on a starry horsie.

Night night, Mr. Man(n).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0109, Corsica^^, Splinterwood^

failure

Axis can’t decide. To keep this office with all his energy lines embedded in it already…

… or to shift over to Morgan’s *old* office, even though no one yet knows it’s old. New(s) of his death has yet to spread locally. The virus is clogging the newsfeeds. “14 dead in Fearzum, 14 dead in Fearzum!” they cry, causing panic in the market. No, Freechild’s demise can’t break through that impenetrable Wall of Fear. But he’s behind that too, being from Fear*zom* and all (always gets a laugh). He created both. Might as well call him Mr. Pennsylvania.

But he has a meeting to attend. Over at Freechild’s place. Can test it out today himself for a while. See how he likes.

—–

Yes, Axis thinks to himself while staring out at the Ashenlave summit we’ve seen once before in this here photo-novel, or at least the western part. No sea, but instead this peak looming before me, reminding me of where I came from. Granite far far above green. He looks stonily in the direction of Sandman and Ant-Man on the other side of the spacious, line free office.

“Gentlemen!” he cries in as Morgan Freechild a voice as he can muster, administrative skills peaking at a high. “We must get down to the *merger*.” Ant-Man, formerly just Ant and just The Man but now something quite else, stares over at Sandman, who was always a man as well as Sand — no morphing there.

Ant-Man, edging closer, knew this: that Sandman was afraid of the first change, which he’d already gone through. “No no!” wailed The Man after Ant approached him and then swallowed him whole, *becoming* him. Hucka Doobie didn’t tell him this drastic trick but Ant, after all, had a stupid internet feed and could look up how to soul merge on his own, duh. Quicky style.

Now Sandman’s turn.

He ate. He swallowed.

Copyright infringement free *Sant*man is born!

[photo removed for copyright infringement]

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0018, 0608, Ashenlave^, Corsica^^