Tag Archives: April Mae Flowers^^

blooms

A miracle, thought Herbert Gold, looking on. I was just dreaming about this fenced-in place yesterday and no flowers. Yet spring is still far far away. I will mark this spot in my mind.

He takes second psychological photo and moves on.

Past the Petunia Trail toward his old home.

—–

“Snow or sand?” queries wife April Mae by his side, trying to snap him out of it. No more meeting makers and dying! she vowed day before Friday of last week’s Wednesday. He rubbed his non-platinum head, sat up. “Snow,” he responded, looking around as if trying to gauge the place he’s in. Seeing his color return, April Mae breathed a sigh of relief.

—–

“I was looking for — home,” he explained more later at the breakfast table. “But the bridge — the middle of the bridge…” Stopped him? he then thought. He still didn’t know where he was.

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more connections

He turns away from her on the bed while she is talking, much to her relief. She’s tired of looking at the thing. He claims their sex is hot, hot, hot, but to her it’s always lukewarm! And he’s not tea so no reheating; one and done. “Santa,” she calls back toward him.

“Satan, please,” he requests, his voice booming even when projecting the wrong way. “Santa’s a last name.”

“Oh, right.” April Mae knew full well what his name was. He had to use the most obvious anagram possible. Might as well stick 2 horns on his head and prod expectant children with a forked candy cane or something. “He knows about you,” she then offers.

“I’m *not* the maker.”

“He knows that too.”

“I am Satan!” His tone was more defiant that ever.

“You are the Red Devil, true,” she agreed. Where did all the legends get that hot fire and brimstone stuff? she wonders again. Falsities!

“Be a dear and bring me the book, April Mae. The one where I’m a star — I need it to get to sleep.”

Well, she certainly wants him to get to sleep. So she can sneak out again. Tommy Pajamy over in cabin B might be willing later tonight. She’s been prepping him for weeks, bending too far over while shoveling the sidewalks, climbing too high with her dress on a ladder to prune the snow laden trees. She knows he watches. She has eyes in the back of her head.

She retrieves the book from the shelf and then hands it to Satan Santa, not looking down.  It’s a 1989 mystery novel involving a cooperative venture between the US (US) and USSR (THEM) that gets screwed up because a woman’s death is broadcast on the net. Then it turns up on a VHS tape that lands in the wrong hands. The woman is named Kat. Eartha Kit Kat Moon. And I believe she’s Chinese. Or Japanese. And she may not be a woman either.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0408, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara^^

Snowlands again

“Does my hair look all right this morning, Herbert?”

“It looks fine, April Mae.”

“Hmph.” She takes a noisy slurp of her tea, then winces. “Next time, dear, set the microwave on about *60 seconds* for the pot, not 40. Lukewarm tea is the worst!” Another slurp, another wince. “Oh dear.” She scoots the twice drunk cup toward Herbert. He knows what has to be done.

“Tastes all right to me,” he shot back, irritated the she *always* knows, within a few seconds, exactly how long he’s heated any item of food or drink up. Next time he’ll try to get away with 45, but he knows he there’s no way he can pull it off. He’s always testing his limits around wife April Mae. And failing.

After putting all the tea back in the pot and reheating the thing, he returns to the table. His mouth might scald a bit but he’s use to it. Better living with that than the alternative. She tests again.

(SLURP) “Yes, much better, Herbert. Thank you. Now… tell me about that dream you had last night. The one where (SLURP) you met a maker.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0407, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara^^

Mood:

Isolated.

He heard someone over the waves. “Aww, you got me, Baker Bloch. Remember Mabel? Your old Martian pal?” The voice faded, to be replaced by another. “And me? Tessa. We’re still in the cave! Find me, find me, find me…” the second voice echoed, as if in a, well, cave.

He was ready to step off Dog Island and come back to mainland.

Or at least the bigger, less isolated island in front of him currently.

—–

Then he found *her* as well. The ex. She spoke without turning while dancing on a west facing patio. “You find *them* or I’ll find *you*. And you know what I’ll do to you when I do!” She faded as well. He was starting to sweat coldly.

A smoking gun dropped from the sky, barely missing him.

Still hot to the touch, he picked it up. He realized he would need this gun to get to the cave. A person would be in his way. And that person was…

—–

“Herbert. Herbert?

Herbert!!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0207, End of Time^^, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara^^

Snowlands >

“*There’s* our tea, April Mae. I thought I was going to have to ask to send your (6 prim) *gardener* away.”

“I’m not quite finished with him,” defended his wife of 7 years about keeping her vacation pal around a bit longer. “You have your smoking guns. What do you care?”

Herbert Gold couldn’t say anything to that. He looked down at the steaming hot tea in front of him. He’d have to wait to take a sip. April Mae put her own cup to mouth and slurped noisily, taking a deep draw. She was use to hot. She grew up in central Jeogeot.

“Well… I *do* like the house. It’s in the middle of everything, it seems. Middle of Meribel, middle of Snowlands. You know I’m use to middle, growing up in the center…”

“Yes,” interrupted Herbert. “I know.” He watched her slurp more while his own tea still wasn’t ready for his own mouth. “I *am* glad you like it, despite all else. But…” Herbert hung his head down. He couldn’t say it. April Mae said it for him.

“I know,” she attempted to comfort. “Rosehaven was perfect, I know.”

—–

He was going to dream of someplace else tonight. He was determined about it, did all the right preparations before bedtime. *Not* Rosehaven. But, as he was told, *negative* suggestions didn’t usually work. He couldn’t tell himself, over and over, *not* to dream about Rosehaven. He might as well say to himself to dream about it then. Instead he decided to suggest someplace warm. That would let Rosehaven and its current, wintery landscape out of the picture. But it brought into play some possibilities he didn’t particularly care about. Like jungle. April Mae would be at home there. Not him. So he decided instead of “warm” he would use the word “temperate.” He looked it up beforehand to make sure. Temperate climates indicates *mild* temperatures. Not too hot, not too cold. A goldilocks clime. He finally fell asleep at 2:01 AM…

—–

“Aah, North Yd. Shouldn’t known.” But North Yd was no longer a wasteland village but simply a wasteland period. The Tiler Church was no longer here. Zoidboro didn’t have a place to preach any more.

Yes, he realized. He was looking for Zoidboro. And possibly his guy-gal pal Patrick Starr as well. Better head up the cliffs to see Sally. Both of ’em. Get the scoop on what happened to North Yd.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0206, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara^^, The Waste^^

flagged

He had to get it over with. It should have been done yesterday. Danny had to come to Dewey to live. For good. That’s why the names are in his county.

Just right over there.

Better, hrmph, hop to it.

—–

—–

“I don’t know what to say, Man About Time.”

“Jim K., please,” The Man About Time requested about his name. “Call me Jim.”

“Well, whatever, this is a wonderful gift. Thank you!”

“And, as you can see, we’ve copied both your American and Florida flag from the trailer to here. Much more room. And Greyhound Imperial Town is right next door. Hear they have a nice art museum you can clean up. I know you like art.” Not quite enough to save your Fal Mouth Moon job, though, The Man About Time thinks to himself here. Tronesisia’s orders: Danny had to go. The Humanvillians had jumped off the confines of 2-dimensional art and come alive. Herbert and April Mae Humanvillian, ugh. Denizens directly from Mammoth Cave (Kentucky Town) to an art gallery near you. They’ll be in for a while. Hope they like their new neighbor.

—–

“This is *ridiculously* small,” complained a totally pissed off April Mae to her husband. “This door won’t even *fully shut*.”

But Herbert Gold was strangely taking all the upheaval quite calmly. Time for a change, he thought but didn’t speak aloud. I’m tired of servants and groundskeepers. We’ll be better off here. He was beginning to dwell on his exes again. And a new one possibly coming up soon.

Oh, and he didn’t die. Tronesisia brought him back to life. Guess that cheers him up a bit too.

And that’s how the Humanvillians came to Dewey. Soon they would explore the whole West End peninsula, all the way to Sentinel at its coastal terminus. Much more interesting in the days when megaburg WES was around, the musical birthplace of the band Love The Three and its Marty, Lemon and George Harris’ Son. Destined they were for great, star studded things, once Ingor was added.


Ingor “Redman” Ratts in WES, c.2007


Now where *are* they?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0114, Jeogeot^^, West End

Tin (double)

“Ahh, I found it. The place Roger Pine Ridge was born. Dewey.”

—–

“Tronesisia.”

“In the nuts and bolts!”

“Did I choose well? Did I do right?”

“You are leaning slightly more toward fame than obscurity but (the margin) is acceptable. Your *doppleganger* is balancing you by leaning toward the opposite. You may approach.”

The sweating Man About Time moved forward then bowed.

“I have *so* much to ask (!).”

“Let’s brighten the place up a little bit first…”

—–

“We should have given it back,” Herbert Gold reinforced to his wife. “The object was obviously set on the wrong permissions. I *told* you at the time.”

“I just thought it was… *fate*(!),” April Mae tried to defend about the stolen art.

“Like the rare atlas that you could have stolen from that library because it was already checked out to someone else, hmph.”

“Y-yes.(!)” She couldn’t pass up another opportunity.

But now they were in *trouble*(!!).

—–

“This is like you and Madame Silver, Herbert Gold,” Tronesisia spoke behind him, referring to one of his exes. “But you had the decency to move beyond her. Question, though: is she silver, or actually — perhaps — *tin*?”

Similarly sweating Herbert Gold, who knew he was in hot water, expressed relief that Tronesisia didn’t say platinum.

“Oh yeah,” Tronesisia corrected with a small laugh. “Pla*tin*um. That’s what I meant, ha.”

Oh boy.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0113, Jeogeot^^, West End

brand new red blue

Time to pay a visit to the town hall…

—–

Only public bathrooms in town are on the 5th floor of a gallery, ponders Herbert Gold, hunting for art with the wife once more. Strange place.

He turns the page.

Hatfield, hehe.

I’m going to buy one of these pieces, April Mae reinforces to herself in the other bathroom while washing her hands. I don’t know which one, but… something pretty for our guest room. The one without art.

She finishes the last fingers.

—–

It hit her when she exited the bathroom before her husband. He soon joined her in staring.

“Look, dear,” she indicated. “It’s like the statue at the town hall. 7 Stones. And there’s a little man standing before it.”

“Sooo. Is this the one you want? This (he checks the name in the object’s description) ‘Humanvillians’?”

“I think it might be.”

—–

“Back in an hour,” the pink Mossm relayed about the mayor while The Man About Time also stared.

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Bald Seal Prelude

Baker Bloch next checked Hana Lei for survivors, but the members of the band Lamb — Peter, Paul and Mary — were nowhere to be found. Baker thought of the perhaps odd coincidence that the 3 locations beginnning with “H” in his overall lexicon were all clustered together if sorted by number of posts. 15 for Hana Lei here, 16 for Heartsdale, and then 14 for Horizons. But none of these places seemed relevant any longer — all used up for meaning. He couldn’t stop thinking about the 3 “H”‘s, though, and how it perhaps — again — points to the Omega continent (through Kentucky). Better get back to Bauerbridge, then…

… but the high dune had been masked by a thick thicket of trees. Big Thicket? Edward Swift once more?

April Mae’s small cemetery remains at the edge of the thicket, where her husband Septimius Felton was buried and which we see her visit several times in the last Collagesity novel (last?).

I’ll just do a little grave maintenance while I’m here.


The Angel of Death reached out for Baker Bloch’s hat again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0106, Hana Lei^^, Heartsdale^^, Horizons^^, Mountain Lake^

not core

“I’m not sure if I can get rid of the two of you — this house.”

“Well you must in my opinion,” spoke up Mssr. Gold, feeling himself unnecessary for the new novel if he’s not dreaming of The Waste, Fruity Islands, End of Time, and Rosehaven all in one. “As I understand, this is suppose to be an analysis of what has gone on before. Unless you want us to help with with *that* part.”

“Unsure,” admitted Baker Bloch. He turned to the person on his couch. “What do you think April Mae?”

“I think we *must* return to the Omega continent and I’m glad you have a new foothold there with this Gold Mountain. Full of golden goodness and unlimited possibilities. You build off from there and you’ll be fine.” She looked over at her husband. Herbert Gold after all. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Dear?”

“Oh dear,” both Baker Bloch and April Mae Flowers spoke at once.

Looks like the couple won’t be in the new book after all.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0105, Purden/Snowlands^