Tag Archives: ASYLUM

00430307 (1/2 mil at least)

But does he really?

He goes into his bedroom to make a call to Lester, telling him the assassination is done and that he wants his money for the job. After Lester says it’s a done deal, all his personal belongings disappear before his very eyes.

“What the???”

Frank Lynn wakes up, rises off the wide if short couch he fell asleep on. 8:30 in the evening: time to get in a real bed, he figures. He has 7 king size ones to choose from now, depending on which direction he wants the sun to be when he awakens in the morning after a refreshing 8 hours, beyond just these dratted accidental “power naps” of his. Ghetto dreams, pheh. Aunt Jen can only haunt him from them on a couch like from his youth, falling asleep to “Aqua Dude Hunger Force” reruns on the boob tube or something. He’s so far above his gangster roots and Aunt Jen and her woman power ways it’s not even funny. He thinks about the wide if not high garage full of short, powerful yellow cars — horse-powerful; he runs through other aspects of his wealth and influence. Asylum Inc. He *will* make it a reality.

Time to get back to the Red book colored blue. He has them all about the house to find easier. If he misplaces one, there’s always another to fill in right around the corner. Always puts him right to sleep. *No* ghetto dreams in an actual, full sized bed. Power.

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00430304 (Page?)

“I tried to lighten the mood early in our friendship by showing him the Tire Nutz juxtaposition, Lichen, which he didn’t know about despite being local too. You’d be proud of me that day. Two big tractor tires on top of an auto parts store just down the street from my dealership, with a phallic water tower in back if you look at it straight on. Obviously done on purpose. Can you picture it in your mind’s eye, Lichen my partner? Do you even remember what those things look like, how they’re configured and such?”

“The tires are nuts, right,” says Lichen, serious in the moment while trying to figure all this out with her lesser brain power. “And the Blue Balls were nearby?”

“The Kentucky sculpture, yes, with three balls instead of 2, so: moons. Made by Tennessee. This was the fulfillment of her unfinished Mars project, poked through into another dimension. But Asylum was behind all of this still.”

“So we’re beyond… the Black Wall?”

“I’m not ready to go that far, my blonde buddy. It’s beyond me right now. And you know how I don’t like limitations of the mind.”

“Dangerous,” responds Lichen to this. “Keep ’em at bay with jokes.”

“Hmm.”

—–

One sector over, Clara Bellissaria is keeping tabs on tobacco selling Redd back at her station, noting that she is a 2n1 now and that the new left is different from the old right. The white horse leads, the black horse steers. Hasn’t gone off the rails yet. But soon she knew there would have to be a decision made, and Fern through her.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0043, 0304, GTA, Hana Lei^^, Mars^^

00430212

Second shift for the flying noodle kiosk seen several posts back. Night time in Nightsity. Gloria has her own way of doing things, which includes less hanging out and more work to be done. Less flying about all over the place and more being grounded and sure of herself. She dresses modestly in comparison. Ianna is such a flirt with her willy nilly flashing peace signs and all, she thinks while watching the first customer approach. Like this one. “Can I help you?” she says to Horn puppet Shelley Johnston Struthers, trying to hide the judgment in her voice about the Crazy Blue.

Nearby Edward waits patiently with the food at a different venue while Shelley retrieves her sugary drink from Gloria. She’s not happy with just unsweetened tea like her Eddie.

But this was all planned. Edwina certainly has Cokey Cola and Spriite and the like in back. Just hid that fact to Shelley, enabling her to talk to fellow operative Edward alone and compare notes on the story. 43, both knew.

“How do you think the photo-novel is going so far?” asked Edwina with the appropriate number on her cap, turned around to make it less obviously so.

“Good I suppose.” He resisted the urge to say “fair.”

“I hear… we’re back in GTA V again. Fellow named Frank. A writer I think. Not a hustler this time.”

“Red book,” Edwina elaborates about the primary work involved. “Starts with Redd from Jamestown Street; works in her blue bud Page. Pages about Page too.”

“I guess we’ll see how it all unwinds.”

“I suppose we will. Look for a physical copy of the book on Mars from the future,” she added. “Red planet after all. Seek Teebestia there. Seek *Asylum.* You should leave soon. In terms of ships, take the one after 909.”

“Like Snowden, right.” He spies Shelley in the distance receiving her drink from Gloria. “Thanks for doing this, Edwina,” he said, knowing they’d probably shared enough information to get them started again. “And thanks to Gloria for being in on this too.”

“She hates the Horns as much as I do. She’ll do anything to get back at them for what they did to her sister. Have you seen Ianna? Flying all around, hanging all about. Brainwashed. Oh… here comes Shelley.”

“So that’s what happened,” said Edward quickly in a lowered tone half to himself, then turned to Shelley just entering the scene. She takes a loud sip of her Cokey Cola to show her displeasure about Edwina’s drink offerings.

“Happy?” says Edward to her as she takes a stool beside him, pulls the tray over with the two loaded cheeseburgers Edward ordered. Before the planned “incident.”

“Suppose.” An even louder sip, right in front of Edwina’s face.

—–

“Tell me some of her weaknesses,” said Gloria earlier to Edward, trying to arrange the rendezvous.

“Well… she loves sugar. Can’t do without it.”

“Bingo.”

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00430109

Fern and Lichen pull up to the Atrium building, determined to get to the bottom of some things.

“Is this 3633 Wheeler Rd.?” started Lichen with the easy stuff, softening them up for Fern’s blazing bazooka of a brain.

“Yes, can I help you?” spoke Don the receptionist, on the job since Thursday. He’d yet to acquire an eye for suspicious looking characters, which these 2 certainly were.

“We’re here to see Wayne Bruce or Bruce Wayne, whichever way he orders it. We’re here to ask some questions if you don’t mind,” continued Lichen.

“Yeah, *questions*,” took over Fern in a much tougher voice than cream puff Lichen’s. “Like… what happened to Robin?; why did he replace him with Superduper Guy for a sidekick?; why is Aqua Dude so jealous of Superduper?; did he want to be the sidekick instead?; and what of Antarctica? Penguin? Penguin and Joker both? Backrooms? And finally: Alberta? Is it Albert or Alberta? And what of that tea and the forgetting?; did Aqua Dude and his partner Bullfrog simply drive away after that, no deal formed between the lot of ’em?; why was this his ace in the hole? *That* kind of stuff.” Fern finally took a breath.

Don’s evasion training from 2 days ago kicked in at last. “I’m sorry, did you say 3633? This is 3643. You’re one down from where you should be.”

“Yeah, we’re not going to fall for that,” said Fern. “We’re just going to walk out that door, go looking for 3633 in the wrong location and then come back here all confused. Maybe you’ll say the reverse, then, that this was 3633 all along and you thought we said 3643. Most likely so. But by that time you would have cooked something up. Wayne Bruce or Bruce Wayne is doing business in New Zealand at the moment thank you very much. He’s in the building and we know it. Go *get* him. Or, heck, *else*.” She pulls a gold gun out of her gray capri pants pocket, trains it on his head. She wakes up.

—–

“Asylum is one up on the Black list from Atrium,” interpreted Fern later to Lichen over a breakfast of Toasty-O’s, new pepper and mint flavor, new shape of snakes and ladders respectively. “This is what we actually seek. Just like Snowden.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0043, 0109, Castle Town, Georgia, Omega^^

00430108

“It’s bs about the Cleveland Rocks ultimately representing a phallus. And everyone who was hired by Asylum was given that list. They were ask to study it, write down 10 things they noticed. From this, they were assigned their positions within the company, a kind of aptitude test. Grandpa didn’t do well on it, didn’t even spot the obvious reversing of the D words Diablo with Draco in the supposedly completely alphabetized list, and so he was given the position of, let’s call it, sanitation engineer.”

“Grandpa,” asked Fern about the name. “Why did you call him that?”

“Because he was Grandpa Cliffs before he was Drew ‘Grumpy’ Cleveland. He’s *old*. The project was actually started in 1919, not 1972. That list was invented in 1919, both of ’em actually, although of course the second was advertised as the only one at the time.”

“He told us he was from ‘rough’ Grandpa Cliffs, as he put it, but implied it was a place. Just across the channel — I assumed he meant the river that flows below Castle Town, fixed in a gorgeous gorge.”

“No, that was his name,” insisted Teebestia the Asylum bartender, mask removed and revealed for what she was. A fount of knowledge about all things Asylum. She was old too, older than Grandpa, er, Grumpy, she claimed. “He was rough all right, though,” she continued. “Brought a rusty knife right with him into the compound on his first day. Rust is prohibited anywhere on Mars, you see. It’s because it’s considered a concealed weapon, even if you openly wield it in your hand. Mars is just that dusty. Can’t have rust or rust colored objects. So he was given a fine right off the bat.”

“And, let me guess, that was also on the aptitude test. Which Grandpa/Grumpy didn’t spot as well, didn’t understand the rule being openly displayed in the list.”

“RUSTYKNIFE, yeah,” said Teebestia, idle in the moment and free to talk at length. Only kind of rush they get in this place is 12-1 when the labs let out. “Should have been paired with MUSKET as an obsolete or extinct weapon. (The test) is all about pairings. GREEN-GRAY obviously.”

“Right.” Fern had time to study the list more later with this new information but she’d already started in her head. DIABLO-DRACO, GRAYBACK (or Greyback) and GREENGROW. Now MUSKET-RUSTYKNIFE. RUSTYKNIFE also with SPEARFINGER as a small projectile of death given long, sharp nails. And then CHOKE, BURN, BEAT, SPEAR — methods of death. EVE paired with JOANA indicates the overarching name and purpose of the thing. Fern could obviously have been president of this company. And perhaps she still can. “Leader?” she barked to Teebestia. “Wayne as in Bruce?”

Teebestia was looking for an opening to produce a copy of the red book from below the counter, slide it toward Fern as physical answer to a tough question. And so here it was. She had a stack of them down there.

“You want me to, study this?” Fern said, picking up the book and looking at the town on the cover.

“Start with references to a certain Biff Carter within and work your way out from there.” 3 customers walked into the bar named Sherwood, George, and Rutherford. She had to excuse herself with this.

“Whad’ll — it — be?” she asked them as if she had three heads instead of one, speaking, in turn, to the first, the middle, the last.

A dart shot into The Mouse.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0043, 0108, Mars^^, Ohio

00430107 (deep)

“What did you just call those rocks over there?”

—–

“Cleveland,” Fern repeats to partner Lichen what Asylum bartender Teebestia said to her while they were standing with their backs to the hole, gazing up at it. And the co-manager of the Yalta Bar and Grill happened to have the same name. Fern quickly determined it couldn’t be chance. They had to confront Drew “Grumpy” Cleveland with the news.

—–

“Little Big… right up on those rocks… was *taken*. Flung into the far corners of space against his will, his better nature. (Old) Mabel has been looking for him ever since. She thought the hole would provide the answer, or at least relief from her suffering. So she jumped… and came out the other side. Black to white; space again. The hole was a portal to a ship of vast dimensions. She didn’t find her big brother, per se, but found what happened to him, why he never returned. He was *assimilated*. Grumpy — you listening to me? You found that second list, said it was just on the floor when you finished dusting those bookshelves in back. But, truth be told, you’ve *had* that list, probably for a long time. What you didn’t know about is the other, matching list, our first but your second.”

Former porn star and current nudist Drew “Grumpy” Cleveland tried to retain a face of stone but failed. The facade broke down, he started crying even. In the animated blubbering, the huge package down below swayed back and forth like a swinging bridge disconnected on one side and in a heavy gale. He often wondered how it would be displayed when he passed on. In its own big, long jar of formaldehyde at some kind of porn flick museum? He didn’t want that future for himself. He wanted… more.

“I was told,” he said between sobs, “that it would make me *immortal*.”

A phallus! Fern realized. The Martian rocks represent his own. She needed to take a better look at them with this information. Where are the balls, for example?

Built right into the corner of the compound, as it turned out, the whole thing towering over the Asylum bar itself. But the overall smooth, classical phallus shape still lies unhewn and unexposed beneath a rough rock exterior. The sculptor, named TENNESSEE, still had much work to do. Trouble is, it had been over 100 years since she started.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0043, 0107, Castle Town, Mars^^, Omega^^

00430106

“A word for each letter of the alphabet,” Wayne Bruce continued about his company, the famed Asylum Inc. started in the 70s on the west coast in a town that time had forgotten. He didn’t, and he’d drag others into his alternate reality as well. With the lists. He separated the top paper from the rest of the short stack and put it on the other side of the opened manila folder. “Second list now,” he said, staring at the new page front and center. “Black for the 1st’s white. Asylum revealed for what it truly is. Shadow government to the world everyone assumed ran from A to Z in an orderly fashion. This was only facade.”

“Here’s where he gets to the part about the Green and the Gray,” Fern directed to likewise watching Lichen, returned from her trip down the river to hunt for opposite shore sea shells. She’d come back home to Mama.

“… the Green… and the Gray.”

“Told ya,” said Fern with some satisfaction. She paused the film she’d found in an obscured archive in a hidden data farm — took a lot of digging to find this gem of a dangling carrot. She assumed Lichen had questions. *Should* have a lot but she’ll see about the total. Will help her determine how far Lichen has come along with her soil studies and overall brain development. She’s *funny*, Fern reminded herself. Funny as all get out at times. But she needs to develop the other side. Fern also reminded herself that she needs to work on the opposite side and find her own funny bone with which to work from. She told what she felt were two legitimate jokes yesterday that Lichen seemed to smile at or at least acknowledge the humor in. Advancement.

“How…?”

“How does Blue fit in?” Fern guessed about Lichen’s question. “With the Black, the Green, the Gray? Dark spectrum colors all I’m sure you noticed.”

“So… Red,” said Lichen, thinking back to the first list. “And…”

“Yellow, yes. And Golden (and White). Light spectrum. Dark and light, Lichen. Dark and light.” She looked over at the light that had gone out of Lichen’s eyes. “Daark…” she said slower, trying to reignite. “And liight.”

Bulb went off.

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00430104

He looked at the paper that had fallen to the floor from the bookcases in back. He quickly phoned Fern.

“Listen, I have news.”

Fern thought at first: Barry’s back from his sabbatical, But, no, it was another list, printed on Asylum Inc. letterhead again.

“How?” Fern responded to this. “We were just there. We looked *everywhere*.” The thought passed through her mind now that Drew “Grumpy” Cleveland, a nudist originally from rough Grandpa Cliffs across the channel, was playing an elaborate prank on them. She pondered this more as Grumpy explained he was cleaning up, getting ready to lock up, just dusting the bookshelves as he does at the end of every working day, when the thing simply fell out, about at the location of the “Around the World in *1000* Pictures” book (not 2000, as we’ve already explained). He thought he’d just dusted the book but couldn’t be sure. Anyway, he had it spread out in front of him on the bar counter. He described what he saw to Fern.

“It looks very similar,” he said. “Let’s see… yes, 26 words again, just like with the first one. Looks like a whole new set of words, though. And alphabetized again.”

“All the letters of the alphabet?” queried Fern.

Grumpy checked. “No, looks like some are missing this time.”

“So we have grouping of words starting with the same letter,” Fern said. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

—–

“So here they are. I took the first and placed it next to the new one so you could compare. Whaddaya think?”

Fern eyed the new set of 26 words with hoax firmly in her mind now. Grumpy playing games with her, just to try to show off what he thought was his own intellect too and put her in her place? But the words would tell her, the patterns they make.

“Diablo and Draco — did you see, Grumpy?”

“Umm, see what?”

“They’re reversed in the alphalist. Only two ‘D’s, swapped with each other. She eyed him now, looking for signs of feigned surprise. The surprised expression coming from the big, nude man in front of her seemed genuine, though. He’d simply passed over the reversing in his scan of the list.

“And, look here, Greengrow and Grayback — same thing if you spell Gray as Grey, like if we were English instead of American.” UK and US united as one, she thought here, lovely red-headed, pinkish skinned Wendy a vision in her mind. Or maybe UK and France is a better match, Fern quickly amended, considering the bar’s name they were in. “But, see,” she refocused on the colors green and gray instead, poking the printed words with her index finger, “this has something to do with war. This has something to do with *the* war. Green-Gray, sometimes colored Green-White for reasons I can’t quite remember right now.” She waved off the attempt. “Never mind that: Asylum is involved in the war. This Asylum Inc.,” she summarized, “is maybe a weapons manufacturer, or maybe something to do with military training.” Brainwashing, she realized. They’re brainwashing men to become soldiers. Just like…
—–

“Describe ‘hole’,” she asked the bartender in the city of Mars where Old Mabel disappeared from.

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00430103

“Those books in back aren’t for the general public,” spoke nudist and co-manager of the Yalta Bar and Grill Drew “Grumpy” Cleveland to Fern and Lichen later on. “I only let friends back there, people I know, people I can trust who won’t sully the pages and so on. And I know all the books as well. I had ‘Around the World in 1000 Pictures’ not ‘2000’. That’s a later, expanded version I didn’t purchase. And I don’t take donations — not directly. I buy books. I *know* books.”

“Pure enough,” said Fern to this, still scanning the list before her on the counter. 26 words for 26 letters in order from A to Z. But Asylum isn’t among them — didn’t start it off. Instead: company letterhead at the top. She’d done a little research before confronting Grumpy with the list they’d found. Asylum Inc. was started by one Wayne Bruce in 1972 in Nightsity, California. Thing is, Nightsity doesn’t exist. Not in *this* reality. In 1988 it supposedly moved to Jasper County GA near Atlanta, apparently another lie.

Here’s a Google Street View of the address from the letterhead. Nothing.

The most confounding thing of all: When Fern and Lichen returned to the bookshelves around back to check for additional evidence, “Around the World in 2000 Pictures” was no longer there. Instead, a copy of “Around the World in 1000 Pictures”, brown colored instead of blue for the former, was present in the exact same spot, just like Grumpy said he bought. Even ultra-sharp Fern couldn’t figure this out in the moment. Not yet. It would take the closing of one eye and the opening of another to accomplish.

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00420615 (Endlessly Antipoison)

He’d been having dreams of Pansy Mouse again and going in a classical direction instead of rocking the day away like he had been. Wendy was showing him the way. He was less scared now of the ghostly spectre.

In one dream, Pansy handed him a list procured from behind the counter. On it: 52 single column words, including Asylum. Featuring Asylum, perhaps. Headliner. He must not run away from it. He needs to put it back in the file in Filetown.

—–

She came back in the wrong dress. He knew their time was limited, wanted to spend it in the best manner possible. “Walk with me,” he said. Reaching the balcony outside the bar and grill, he suddenly took her hand and flung them both over the rail…

… but they were okay — only 12 feet down. “Warn me the next time you do that!” complained winded Wendy, even though she landed rather gently as did he. Much harder to hurt yourself in Our Second Lyfe than up in reality. Barry learned that the hard way.

Onward through the construction warning signs. Barry knew this tunnel starting below the balcony would be safe as well; would take them to where it all ended. Heaven of sorts.

Midge looked on, unseen by Barry behind the dumpster. But not Wendy. Just by her look she knew they had found the file.

(to be continued)

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