“Yes can I help you?” she vocalized, not turning toward the visitor, not bringing any energy into her words.
“Wendy??”
Tag Archives: Biff Carter^*++++++&
00420304
“Are you disappointed that she didn’t want to sell the castle property back to you, Shelley?”
Sigh. “No, not really. Gave me an excuse to look around the place, see what she’d done. That’s good enough. For a consolation.”
“It’s pretty expensive still,” says Arthur Kill. “Baker only pays about 1 1/2 times that amount for the Aisle of Palms rental as a whole and that’s about, let’s see, 2 1/2 times as much land.”
“Do you still speak to him?” Shelley Johnston Struthers asked eagerly.”
“N-no. I thought *you* spoke to him.”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, indeed.” Both understood that Baker Bloch, owner of the virtual town we as a family rent now, didn’t seem to know the couple’s whereabouts. They were off the radar. And then both also thought about George, aka The Musician. Was it the same with him?
“We should go down into town tonight. Go shopping and dining.”
Shelley looked out the window on their perch atop Yellowmoon Ridge at all the snow falling. Then she looked around the house at all the elephant decoration. Just came with the rental — no planning on their part. “Nah, I’m fine staying here tonight. That special on indie animation is debuting on Youtube at 8. Then they’re replaying a doubleheader of ‘The Pink City’ and ‘The Amazing Digital Circus’ at 9.”
“Love that stuff,” opined hubby Arthur, envisioning other stuff at 10. This 3rd honeymoon (or was it their 4th?) was working out swell. Cheap rental *exactly* on the spot where the old Ant Castle use to exist. Current owner didn’t even know anything about that storied history. Arthur had a hard time believing it — still does. He checks his watch not on his wrist. 7:45. Time to pop open the first bottle of wine? Why not.
They ended up drinking the 1st glass to Biff Carter, which was a strange toast indeed. Have to think about that.
00420108
Long ago she took to wearing an eyepatch while in the public, well, *eye*. Covered up the blue one, you see. Gave her the name Redeye, soon shortened to Red. She was ruler of this land in a sort of iron fisted way. Creating an army, although the other half of her, the blue side, feared for her life because of it. It was time for her monthly meeting with the Redslandian Press, tell them about what’s going on in the empire. How’s hubby The Mann doing? Any new staff hires? That kind of thing.
When she got to the hiring of Marsha, she halted. How to phrase it? Certainly The Mann would see the broadcast, either live or, if later on because of other matters, taped (she couldn’t remember what he had on this morning). She decided to keep calling her Patricia because of this, although as we’ve seen, Marsha replaced Patricia when she assumed the secretary job. Patricia the St. Patrick girl was no more after this, and neither was Tania the Valentine person. All because of the deletion of the tree and all the ornaments, but *especially* that train one. Marsha has some power after that, some leverage. Just like Parasol. They stared into each other’s eyes and saw deception. Both knew about Biff Carter. Both kept this from The Mann.
Marsha was watching it live from her cubbyhole in the middle of the manor about 175 meters away and 20 meters up. A knock at the hidden room’s door, which meant a knock on the Secret Door Bookshelf blocking the only entrance. Who could *this* be? she said to herself while debating whether to make her presence known. But of course: they can hear the broadcast. Should’ve wore headphones, but she assumed everyone else in the building was watching the same. She’d have to answer.
“Who’s there?”
A pause. Then: “Biff. Biff Carter.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0042, 0108, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland
00420103
He invited her to play pool with him and she turned out to be a god damn shark. Never mind that, he said internally. I simply need a sounding board for my evil plans. From Neptune he was, he started the explanation after managing a satisfactory break, sinking his own 10, 14 and 15 but also her 2. The same as the Joker, he said about his hometown, the same as the Penguin also before him. But he was a new type of Waynesvillian. He had managed to trap the most powerful witch of all time named Hazel and incorporate her into himself. Hazel Wood.
“Funny name,” she said, sinking the 6, 4, and 5 in a row before barely missing the 1 with a tricky jump shot over his 11. They were playing 8 ball, his favorite. Until tonight.
“Not so funny if you’re face to face with the ancient hag. Down in the cellar she is. I took away her power, made it my own.” He produced a bit of electricity from his fingertips to demonstrate.
“Not so helpful with pool, it seems,” she then opined, watching him miss hitting the 12 in a corner pocket with those same hands. She surveyed the table and predicted a win in her next turn. She promptly sank the 3, 7, 1 and then 8 to accomplish this. “‘Nother one?” she asked about a follow up game while assuming a victory stance with the pool stick.
“Nah not right now. I want you to come back over to my desk. I want you to see something.”
“Alright. But no *funny* business.”
“Why Miss… Krakow isn’t it? Whatever do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” She’d felt him staring at her while they played.
“No no no, nothing like that. I want to show you the *book*.”
“Oh. Okay I guess.” The mowing became louder outside as Jack edged closer to the house with the John Deere, new shocks in place for a less bumpy ride. Jill’s electric hedge trimmer hummed just beyond the window. Both were hoping to get a glimpse of that book. This is the reason they came back at all after the dual absences.
—–
“Well?” he asked. “What do you think?” The mowing had stopped outside, the trimmer silent along with it.
What *did* she think?
“Biff Carter?” he prompted further. “Does *that* ring a bell?”
“Did you hear that,” whispered Jill excitedly over to Jack. “An actual name from the thing.”
“We have our lead,” he whispered in turn, and they left the scene before being spotted.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0042, 0103, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland
00410401
“Who’s your house singer these days? Stacey.”
“Oh, some Irish lass named Rew…, um, Reem… oh I can’t remember her name. Anyway she’s from Cork. Plays some kind of cork instrument as a novelty act. A trom… a trum… oh I can’t remember the name of the thing. Anyway, she’s from Cork.”
“Right right.” Bots, Newt thinks here. Seems like she can pour beer well enough at least. “Cork, huh,” he says to egg her on again.
“She’s from Cork, right. Plays…”
“Never mind,” he waves her off. “I’m just going to take my beer over there. I’ll be back.” He didn’t plan to come back. No real information to be found here.
—–
From his new vantage point in Shenanigan’s, he looks over at the place in the street he watched her fall last night. And then vanish — after the message had been delivered.
Biff sitting along the side wall of the establishment was thinking along the same lines. Stood up on an arranged third date. Marsha “Pink” Krakow nowhere to be found in town apparently in any shape or form, Pinkie Brainerd or Berta Brainard or otherwise. Vanished.
Being the author of this whole mess, Newt understood he had to go over and explain the situation to him as much as possible. Best he knows he’s losing a secretary as well as a girlfriend so he can set the hiring process in motion (etc.).
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0041, 0401, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori
00410315
From the computer table in my apartment, I watched her stand between the two openings, scratching her head and obviously trying to choose which role to play tonight. Pinkie Brainerd, owner of Pink’s Pawn on the bottom level? Or Berta Brainard, secretary and girl Friday to private investigator Wendell “Biff” Carter on the 3rd and top floor of the same building? Nothing was in-between the two; there was no middle ground here, all intermediate floors vacant instead. Despite being the author, I suppose, I couldn’t make the choice for her. The pink color of the dress drew her toward the pawn shop, but the ribbon aspect of it made her want to type and organize files and such.
This was an important decision; this was a crossroads. I’d been here before, almost in this exact spot doing the same. Before the beginning of things in that case. Here: almost in the middle. Maybe there is some kind of middle ground to be found after all.
There. Down there. That was me at the time. Pepi “Can” Kolya was the name back then. Before Mouse fixed the holes in my head and gave me expressions and the ability to wear different clothes. I became non-mesh.
I started out wearing a beanie with a spinning propeller thingy symbolizing windmills but I quickly grew out of that early look. I gained the coat/mantle of Axis, but moved beyond the darkness of a second Great War as well. I’m not German, but I proudly wear the red, yellow, and black colors of the modern aspect of that nation to remind me of my origins. A small dog named Spider was around here somewhere in my Cass City apartment to remind me of the swastika (thanks Greti!). I cannot escape my start in holey darkness but I now strive toward holy light. Through me (the author again I have to assume), Marsha “Pink” Krakow is now doing the same.
The lights grown softer, more realistic. She turns toward me and even though she doesn’t make eye contact I’m pretty sure she recognizes I’m there — at the computer desk — typing what we’re doing in the moment. She suddenly staggers and falls, then brushes herself off and assumes an upright position again. She falls once more, but in a different way. Then another fall, a 3rd kind.
She doesn’t get up this time. She remains frozen in the same position on the pavement of Southside in front of the 2 doors she apparently can’t choose between. Paralyzed, I understand. Unable to walk toward either now. She eventually vanishes on the spot but I’ve received my message for tonight. There was more to be found here.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0041, 0315, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori
00410310
It was still before the Great War II that never was, leaving only the Great War in history books without a needed numeral to accompany it. Axis was not yet in control, and, even if he were, it would not result in war. Only a child (Alice Tart). 1939 would be the year by that time. But right now it was ’36.
They knew her as Clare by now, the Boss’ Girl Friday instead of Biff’s down at Southside. This was Northside or thereabouts, close enough to count. She heard the Desire streetcar pass by below and thought of conductor/driver Dennis Martinnis, what he said the other week to her as the rain poured down outside, making it undesirable to walk to work like she usually does. He asked: Are you the One?
“*There*, Madam Mayor,” she said, her physical work probably complete for the day. “Ancient computer’s fixed. All we had to do was change the ribbon.” This made her think of her ribbon dress that she elected not to wear to work today. Instead she chose something simpler, something plain and black and more conservative. Maybe she’ll try the ribbon dress out next week on the public but for now: inconspicuous will do. Until they find out about the coins.
The mayor was right beside her, just having finished rechecking office files for the missing 3-n-1 folder, another thing the Boss had in common with private dick Biff across town. No luck.
“Clare,” she said, turning. “That grey haired man who came to see me last week… Dextre or something.”
“Keith B., right,” Clare corrected, knowing where the confusion came from. He *does* look like a serial killer, albeit with a code. ‘Nother one.
“Were you here when he left? Weren’t you on some kind of break at the time?”
“Let’s see,” she thought out loud. “I let him in, you guys talked for a while. It was about 12 and he was still in there with you. Yes, I took my lunch break at the time. I didn’t see him leave.”
“And I didn’t follow him out. Got sleepy all of a sudden — can’t even remember the next hour or so. We had coffee,” she said, thinking back. “And donuts… he brought donuts.”
“*I* brought donuts,” corrected Clare again. “Per your suggestion. Said you had a lot of figuring out to do and needed caffeine *and* sugar, a double boost of the grey matter… as you put it.”
“Okay, *you* brought the donuts in.” She stopped, trying to picture the scene. The information was stupendous, almost knocked her off her feet without the needed drugs. Moby Prick is alive and well out there somewhere off the coast of Flores. And pyramids are out there as well! Atlantis; Abyss. She had seen into the depths of her soul and it wasn’t pretty. Dr. Mouse and his Serapis Club may have a point after all.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0041, 0310, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori
00410217
He checked progress in the book while Marsha rested her now covered arm on top of his hat, a sign of the irreality of the situation. “Let’s see, I’ve come into the pawn shop, I’ve found Marsha ‘Pink’ Krakow asleep on the job, I’ve spotted and then continued to gawk at her short pink hair, and then I’m reading this book to check on progress.” He puts down the book; continues to gawk at her hair while noticing the change of clothes. Only one thing left to do per his next line. “Go on… a date with me Victorian lady?” And so their second one and actually maybe their first official one was set up for that night at mirroring Shenanigan’s just across the street. There they would run into June Bug Johnston, aka Plain Jane Johnston once more as their stories continue to grow and evolve.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0041, 0217, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori
00410216
Her new hair made her doze a lot but she figured it was the only way to get rid of the gargoyle dreams. Wanda in a hot tub there, Wanda in a ballerina dress over there, Wanda in a… well you get the picture(s). Biff Carter walked into the shop, interrupting her latest non-gargoyly dream. No more Wanda for a while. She even got rid of the green phone so she couldn’t call him first thing in the morning. She’d seen enough in the mirror. Greene’s Motel, she knew. There was no Greene’s Motel, not any more at least. Just a green door left of that color which led into the role playing room behind the main desk. The one she just used last night for that purpose, non-gargoyly indeed. She had to go back in time and make things right again. Dr. Mouse was now truly Alice’s father, thanks to the lucky Irish whiskey imbibed just before. She talked him into breaking the code! Swamp and sewer lesson learned.
“Pink — oh sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt–” He was embarrassed about catching her sleeping on the job but then realized it *was* her shop. No one else to answer to.
Pink stirred, tried to focus back into this reality. “Biff,” she recognized. “*Andrew* ‘Biff’ Carter.”
“No. *Wendell* ‘Biff’ Carter.” Is Pink drugged instead? He imagined her mind being a prison.
It’s also here he noticed the hair as her head continued to rise from the table and fully separated out from the rest of her outstanding pinkness. She now stared directly into his eyes. “Biff — yes, of course. *Wendell* ‘Biff’ Carter.” She looked around the almost empty shop, remembered her job, why she came to Cass City in the first place. Certainly not *this*. No she had a much bigger mission in mind than to carve out a Southside pawning niche. She came here because of the man standing in front of her… gawking.
“*Boy*,” he said. “That’s *different*. I *like*, but it’s… um…”
Marsha “Pink” Krakow reflexively reached up and felt her new doo. “I’m just trying it out, mind you. It’s called Victoria.” She gauged his reaction closely.
“Like in the Age? 50 years?”
“Er, kind of I suppose. Victoria,” she said again. “With a modern twist, a *Pink* twist.”
“Okay, um..” He couldn’t stop staring at it. Something about that hair.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0041, 0216, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori
00410208
Berta was conveniently on her lunch break but Keith B. timed it that way. Drugs in Biff Carter’s last coffee and also last donut just to make sure — he’ll be snoozing for a while. Time to take a gander at that 3n1 file he knew Dr. Mouse dropped off just day before yesterday on a visit to his old detective pal. Said to him: find this girl, before she separates out again and all is lost.
Entering the downtown building, he couldn’t see the evidence right in front of his face. A spacer this one is, always thinking about the next operation in a broader sense of the word. He’d just met with Dr. Grayson uptown at his Serapis Club, a potential replacement. Dr. Brown is no longer an option, since he perished in that Millbank haunted house explosion back in the last photo-novel. By Dr. Mouse’s hands no less. Brown maybe knew too much about the 3n1 since he had the same last name as one of the 3 components (Frankie “Beige” Brown) — he couldn’t take a chance. And all that talk about preservation and Halloween being a perpetual holiday from him. Nonsense! That would cut out his favorite one of all which was of course Christmas, Xmas as he liked to call it, not being a practicing religionist. Science is instead his thing of worship. If there is a God, he’s determined, he’ll have on a lab coat when he meets him at the Pearly Gates, with a beaker in one hand and a test tube in the other. Maybe some kind of Adam-Frankenstein laying on a nearby gurney. And of course an Xmas tree in back adorned with more beakers and test tubes. He’s pictured the scene quite a few times now. Makes him merry.
He feels like he has control of the city but it’s just an illusion caused by a game. An in-disguise Marsha “Pink” Krakow enthusiastically claps from across the midtown diner after he breaks the jackpot once again. He turns.
In fact, I don’t think there’s any way he could have missed that Pink Pawn sign and made the connection. Marsha did that as well. She’s covering her tracks. In fact, this is what she looked like to Dr. Mouse when he turned from his still dinging and clanging and whooping machine.
“Alice??” he exclaimed. His daughter.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0041, 0208, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori
Sunklands 