Tag Archives: April Mae Flowers^^~~~

more Highcastle

Shauna never made it out of the static monster (aka snow monster) realm.

“Shameful waste of life,” spoke investigating Officer Bill Mustardgas over to fellow investigating Officer Michelle Roundup. “But also, wouldn’t you agree, a shameful waste of popcorn, nom nom nom.”

“Agreed! nom nom nom.”

—–

Tessa was nosing around the castle while waiting. “Grandpa?”

—–

“I hear that my step-cousin didn’t make it in from the snow today, Willa. When will it stop snowing? Will it be March?” *sigh*

“Pills!” exclaimed the Registered Nurse, a type of monster herself who had a whole bunch in her hand to cure any ail.

“Put those away and bring the girl to me,” she commanded, wanting to stay lucid if melancholy for the moment. “The Grand Niece”.

—–

“Stop looking over there, child. Stop touching things.”

“Oh, okay,” Tessa agreed while lowering her hand, trying to stay compliant. She knew this woman — creature — before her had valuable information about her beloved Grandpa. Was it possible that he was still alive? She had to find out.

“Look at me, girl. Look me in the eyes.” Tessa did as she asked again. “Do you know who I am? Do you know why you’re here?”

Tessa said she’d heard that she was a member of the family and that she could come to the castle to live if she wished. She was told she could also take step-cousin Shauna’s room soon, and that Shauna was going away for a while and that she might not be coming back.

“That is correct, child,” then spoke the creature before her, who had decided to take the name Daisy Mae March as a sign of hope that the Realm of Snow will end soon. “The Grandpa is upstairs,” Daisy stated, knowing what was foremost in Tessa’s mind.

Joy! Reunion with the most beloved! But then the complete downer was revealed: Grandpa was still dead and only living in Grandma’s head while she herself remained alive. Grandma? Tessa then thought, puzzled. April Mae Flowers?

“Who are you?” she demanded, eyes boring into her now.

“So much pain, Tessa. Yes, you are most definitely one of us.” Joy in return.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0515, Pickleland

separate

Later (or was it earlier?) he was looking at a portrait in one of the city galleries and recognized what he thought were the models. “Wheeler,” he muttered aloud, seeing the Triune that would always rule him. If he didn’t have Collagesity. He *must* hold onto Collagesity. He’ll get the crime spree under control. April Mae Flowers, yes, accomplished the actual homicides, he tried to assure himself. Didn’t work. He knew there were at least 5 active criminals in town (because of the fingerprince), despite only 3 registered residents so far. Danny, who tried to kill *him*, was, true, cleaning out his trailer, getting ready for banishment to… somewhere, Jeffrie Phillips hadn’t decided. Some place that has a lot of broken bathrooms, he he he. Or maybe where they all *worked*, ha ha ha, so he won’t have anything to do. Yes, Hell can be a place of complete, utter boredom too, he realized in the moment. So can Heaven — Heaven and Hell both… which means probably neither exists.

He must think of religion more. There are currently at least 3 active churches in town, or will be — they’re *built* is what I mean. Rezzed. There’s, obviously, the Temple of TILE, and Man About Town — MAT — certainly hasn’t given up on reactivating the old Collagesity ruling deity Carrcassonnee still up on the 3rd floor there, especially since (her replacement) Wheeler seems to be out of the picture. But all he can get out of her still is, “Iiiiiiiiii,” which may mean an uncompleted sentence about herself or maybe the “eye” that dominates her appearance. The eye is broke, he remembers — MAT told him that. That’s the 7th beyond the “unconscious” 6 prims of the body. That is the paradox of the 7 and the 6, the Sepisexton Enigma he termed it at another time. Wacky ol’ MAT, Jeffrie thinks. He’ll always be between one thing or another because of his non-fixed, variable nature. And he’ll probably never get Carrcassonnee to utter anything again except that one word, that one letter perhaps.

He looks again at the picture in the gallery and out of his thoughts. He decides (this must be later, then) that he’ll talk Charlene the Punk out of coming to Collagesity, if she hasn’t already decided herself. She has her business here, and can serve omelettes and other breakfast items in an untimely fashion. No doubt the local residents are use to such lags — heck, they may not even think about them much anymore. Like a fish living in water.

What he could even do is drop mention of Bad Kitten/Zado, Elsa, Darlene, and probably another one or two or three he isn’t thinking about. That’ll keep her here, he assumes. But he can always visit. Often. As often as all the others will allow.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0117, Neptune, NWES Island^

square and round

“Maybe it just means Monkey City, Jeffrey.”

“Means,” he replies.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0112, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

in the shadows we are all monkeys

Nighttime, Collagesity, on a full moon. Okay, so it’s always a full moon every night. No total darkness here. But that allows the criminals more light to accomplish their dastardly deeds, while still providing deep shadow for hiding. Will the pattern of homicides and attempted homicides continue, not to mention the 18 burglaries, 6 larcenies, and 2 Petty thefts (the new police squad assures Mr. Petty he will be reimbursed)?

April Mae Flowers, wife of the former Herbert Glenn Gold, has confessed to the latest and last of the 3 homicides. “He said he was a doctor,” she tried to defend herself. “He was no more doctor than that chimpanzee hiding in the shadows up in the corner of this room.”  She points. There was no monkey clinging there in an upper corner, but Officer Raymond Boxboom didn’t tell her this, obviously gauging her as a fruity loop ready for not a paddy wagon this time but a padded room. Since this one hadn’t been painted yet, maybe they could just pad it over and leave her in the middle, outfitted with a straight jacket but still sitting in the same chair, with the desk and lamp removed. Okay, we’ll leave the desk and lamp there and the jacket off so she can keep writing the pathetic semi-autobiographical play that got her in deep doo doo in the first place. “Doctor it up, he said he could,” she said, starting to talk somewhat backwards already, like someone getting unglued from time. “He more no doctor than, say, that passing giraffe at the front of the station. Officer Boxboom turned to surprisingly see the head of a giraffe bob by: Ricardo Petty, here to pick up the money for his lost microwave and Sony boombox. Maybe they can get a conviction on this one after all. He then checks deep into the last corner of the room, beyond the light and into the shadows. Indeed.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0111, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

developments

“So next up on the agenda, Wheeler, is the ditch. How’s progress going (on that)?”

“The Ditch is fine, the Ditch is good. But it’s just that: a Ditch.”

“We’ll call it ‘The Ditch’ for now, then.”

“Good, fine.” (pause)


“The Ditch”

“I guess you’re wondering about Wanda,” he said in the awkward silence.

“Wanda?”

“Er, Wildthing… to you.”

“Oh: her. Well *we* can handle that.”

“Meaning you and your avatars. The witches.”

“Doesn’t have to be a witch. But we can certainly defeat such an adversary: we’ve done it time and time again now. The only thing they have up on us is veracity, but even that tends to be… photoshopped up.”

“I know what you mean.”

“So… are you back on the team? Are you sold on Our Second Lyfe again?”

“Listen… Wheeler.” He doesn’t directly answer but he knows he is. Wildthing is just a temporary fling. He will return to Charlene, he will return to Lois. Anything Wheeler throws up he can handle. As they can handle him.

—–

After the meeting with Wheeler at the Blue Feather, he decides to go visit Danny and talk about the issues of his leadership.

“Man About Time is too flighty. He isn’t fixed enough, Danny. He wouldn’t make an effective leader. But yet, he seems to be my second in charge now — naturally slotted into that role. So if anything happens to me…”

“Yes.” Danny understood what needed to be done. And Jeffrie Phillips knew he would attempt to do the dastardly deed. He was ready. Danny was about to be exiled from Collagesity once more. But who would take *his* place? Baker Bloch? Wouldn’t that be weird.

—–

Since Danny’s was the 3rd attempted homicide already in the newly reborn town, along with 2 successful ones, leader Jeffrey Phillips decides he better open up a police station underneath the Power Tower Gallery, right beside the town pool which may later become the town dump — undecided.

Which happens to be the location they found the 3rd body in the evening of that same day.

Looks like someone’s ready for their close up.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0110, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

Menace revealed

Herbert Gold brings April Mae flowers.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0605, Maebaleia/Satori^^, X-City^

Four Corners

“Dum de *dum* de *dum*.” Riiiiinnnng. “Oh dear.” Riiiiiiiinnnng. “That’s the phone.”

“Where, honey?”

“Over… *there*.” Riiinnng.

“Over where, honey?”

“On the wall.” Riiinnnng. “Just over… *there*.”

“The wall… the phone on the wall?”

Riiinnnng. “Yes. Don’t you remember. The phone… on the wall.”

“The *pay phone*? The one that hadn’t worked for 20 years?” Rinnnnng.

“Yes. I think. Go check. I’m scared. I’ll be back in my room.” Riinnng.

She was so happy just seconds before. Now the world seemed to be ending.

Riinnnng. Herbert Glenn Gold walks over, answers the phone. Riinnnn– “Hello?”

—–

“You have become old, Stefan.”

“No… not old. I can still rock.”

“You are a classical man through and through now. Get up out of the rocker. You cannot rock any longer. You are an old man. You…”

“Pansy,” he said, trying to reassure. “I acquiesce.” Old Stefan steps away from the DJ equipment and the dance floor as a whole, walks outside, stands in the flower bed.

—–

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0603, Bellisaria^^, Four Corners

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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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0504, Rose Heaven^^

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^^