Tag Archives: Biff Carter^*+++++&

December 7, 2023 · 4:19 pm

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)

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December 1, 2023 · 2:49 am

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)

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November 30, 2023 · 9:26 am

00410207

He didn’t say much when he came into the office, just took a seat as instructed. The gray haired man kept looking at Biff, as if expecting the private dick to recognize him, he gathered. So he asked to begin — to get it out of the way. “Do we know each other?”

Keith B., last name revealed only as an initial for more protection, covers himself by saying he gets that a lot. “Dextre,” he said in an actor type voice. “You know, the TV show about the serial killer. People say I look like him and I suppose I do.”

“Dextre,” says Biff back, realizing the connection now. “You *do* look like him.” Another mirror, Biff noted, although he didn’t understand it was one of himself as well. Dex-tre.

“Well what can I do you for?” His standard opening line, just used on Wanda a couple of hours earlier in the dream about the dream. Pink again, he knows now.

“I have an interesting case for you if you’re interested. Pyramid. Off the coast of a neighboring island. Revealed itself last April’s May. Portuguese navy sent in to investigate. Determined it was the top of an underwater volcano. But why perfectly square and aligned exactly to the cardinal directions? We’re talking north south east west. 90 meters on each side, 60 meters high. Fisherman found it on sonar. As I understand, ahem, you have your own mystery here just off your coast. A monster isn’t it?”

“A whale of a monster,” Biff found himself automatically responding, thinking about the print of the photo for the last time before nightfall.

“Maybe… they’re connected.”

That’s the hitch, Biff understood. As in jolt. He felt as if he’d been electrocuted a bit on the spot. Or attacked by gargoyles — something. His hair stood on end, head to foot. No reversing course now. He had to head into this case with a full foot of steam. Thar she blows! A case as big as Nantucket coupled with an accompanying super-cape. He intercoms Wanda — no, Berta — to bring in some coffee and donuts while they talk, sugar and caffeine taking them further than either could have anticipated. The 2 cases were one beneath it all!

(to be continued)

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November 28, 2023 · 4:31 pm

00410206 (Biff)

He was scrolling through Cass City photos on his computer screen while waiting for a client to show up, reminiscing about the old days. Ahh Pink, he thought while studying the 1st one that popped up. Rented the space opposite the town watering hole called Shenanigans. Reverse the colors and directions here and one could change into the other, he realized, as in an aftereffect on a sunnier day. Did Pink understand this when she chose the location?

And what about his office directly above it in the same building? Well, 3 stories above it, the intervening 2 floors still vacant. Have been for a while, so the padding might be permanent between him and his supposed true love. Yes, he determined not too soon after she arrived in town that he was smitten by the still youngish, almost child-like looking 38 year old “girl” from Nantucket with her semi-fiery blonde hair and her perpetual hot pink clothes and attitude. She told him one night at Shenanigans, the only “date” they went on if you can even call it such, that she use to not be this way. She was a 3n1 (or 3-n-1), a composite, she said, and cryptically left it at that. He’d studied the term since; hadn’t come across much information. Basically posts of this blog is all. Yeah, better make that he hadn’t come across much information period, blog still off-limits to him for his own protection. Pink, however, is a different story, par for her Nantucket golf course upbringing. There she was also known as: Wanda. Yeah, she was out there in reality but also in his dreams too, acting as a mirror to herself. He had to be constantly reminded that she could do those things, 4th dimensional tricks one could put it.

He kept scrolling through the Flickr pool of photos until the end, then tried a general search for “Cass City” within the popular image hosting service. Soon he came across this, the photo he’d hoped to find all along:

“Moby Prick,” he said laughingly. And everyone thought it was fable before he snapped the monster from Doug’s dirigible back in last April’s May. Of course some people, perhaps most, weren’t convinced, said it was a trick of the land and the light. He sends the photo to his printer, intending to have the evidence close to him this time. It seems to keep making itself scarce, much like the great whale itself, he realizes. He’ll print out 5 copies just in case.

Knocks at the door. His client. He only managed to print one copy out because of the interruption and then misplaced it before nightfall, hmm (more tricks).

(to be continued)

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November 28, 2023 · 10:58 am

00410205

He was dozing in the office per usual when the phone jarred him from his dream about hot tubs. Wanda? he thinks about the girl there. Who’s Wanda? He cuts off the rings by answering, assuming it was a wrong number. 5:30 in the morning. Who would be calling him now?

A dame named Wanda, that’s who. Or so she said. Probably the psychic police again, he thinks, hounding me until the end.

“Sykes,” she said about a last name when he asked her, poised for retribution.

“Is that with an i… or a y?”

“W-why (nervous laugh)… do you ask?”

“Because I was just dreaming about a dame named Wanda,” private dick Wendell “Biff” Carter admitted but cockily, “and I wanted to know how to spell her last name for the next time we meet up.”

“How odd,” the woman also claiming to be Wanda said on the other side of the line in a tone that Carter identified as sincerely surprised. Maybe not the psychic police after all, he pondered. Maybe one of those what you call *synchronicities*. He tested further. He realized she seemed to be talking to someone with the receiver’s mouthpiece covered. The detective was good at detecting that — had to be to survive, he said to himself as he honed his craft by trying out one muffled voice after another with his girl Friday secretary Berta. What kind of cloth or hanky or whatever was used for the muffling? Could be important. In this case he was thinking: cashmere. Slight bit of scratching against the receiver (wool) coupled with a Cape Cod accent. Rich dame, he surmised. He needed money. He’ll overlook the oddities to proceed forward.

“What can I do you for?” He tried to wake up as much as possible to absorb the stream of information he assumed was coming his way.

“I *was* looking… for a mirror.” That was it. Mirror. The dream, he knew. She found it. Click went the receiver. Took a long time to return to sleep after that. Wanda in reality, he thought, glancing over at the phone again. Wanda in the dream. Maybe if I return to the same dream I can get more info from the dame who lives, ahem, *inside*. He leaned back, hands behind his head just like we started with. “Wanda Wanda Wanda,” he muttered as Newton slid back into Jasper. “Wanda Wanda (snore) Wanda…”

(to be continued)

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November 23, 2023 · 3:42 pm

00410117 (chosen one (doing white right))

Being Thanksgiving Day already, Marsha “Pink” Krakow started to husk corn for the festival. Now plain June joined her. Tom showed up and did a little work. Christina showed up and did even less, ranting on and on about her miracle recovery from polio as she does. And Stan never showed atall per team leader Donna’s prediction, over at Dick’s sweets and drink stand all the time drinking and sweeting away her worries. Team leaders never subbed for team members according to the rules — she at least had that going. But the corn was slow to be shucked and the cornbread needed to be served by 7, 7:30 at the latest. Something had to be done. Enter Andrew “Biff” Carter from the woods with a black and white shucking machine made from miracles, June’s beautifying witch power transferred to it instead. Marsha was suddenly free to do something else: either Reuben or Steuben, whichever one was the drummer, was lost in action (remember we’ve already heard from the horse’s mouth that one of the two wasn’t real). Marsha felt 2 drumsticks manifest in her back pocket, also part of the magic. She went over to warming up Batcorn beyond the corn and offered her services. She’ll play her way onto the band, she determined then and there, watching the machine spit out husk after husk, leaving naked white ears of goodness in its wake. All team members and all team leaders were happy. The 2023 Amiable Thanksgiving Day Festival would be a success despite the odds.

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November 19, 2023 · 10:28 am

00410112

She was outside using the little girl’s room that had recently become the little girl’s *and* boy’s room, courtesy of her kidnapping of Biff. He acquired inner workings again so he needed to do such things. And he acquired back the bits that gave him other urges June formerly Jane could manipulate. And he wasn’t tone deaf any longer. In short, he was real when before he was mesh. He found he could even draw his Private Dick pistol when needed, if June hadn’t taken it from him. Where was it where was it? he said to himself while June was indisposed, looking under the bed, the chair, the table, the… wine. Ahh *wine*. Another thing he could enjoy now. He uncorks the recently opened bottle. He takes a sip. He takes another sip. He takes a swig. He takes 2, 3, 4. He turns the bottle over into his mouth like it is a funnel, leaves it there. Glug glug glug glug glug glug — GONE.

Smoothing out the ruffles in her olive green gown, June walks back into the cottage. Biff’s turn now.

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November 19, 2023 · 3:08 am

AC/DC

“Do you realize if we get married, Biff, that I’d be June Carter? We’d have to do it in Franklin KY again, then. Just like before. Do you feel like a Man in Black, Biff? You’re almost dressed as one.” She kept strumming her punk song while talking and he kept picking his roots based music one while silent. But somehow, despite the 2 wildly disparate genres involved, the tunes blended perfectly with each other. June Bug Johnston made sure of that with the spell that keeps on giving.

“Awesome,” he finally said, paying attention more to the frets than the fretting. He’d have time for that later. Much time. Much later. After all this wore off, the potion.

We’re at what they call Isolation Cabin, but not far away enough from Amiable Proper that you couldn’t sense the corn. Thanksgiving wasn’t that far away either: shucking time. But who would be participating from the small group of villagers and visitors we’ve already met? Certainly not Eddie, Pink’s Edward, who quickly teleported away upon learning that actual work was involved here. The members of the band Batcorn — Jane, Rachel, Reuben, Steuben — would be providing the music so that lets them out I suppose. Christina’s mind was too far gone to chip in much. And Wally would be seething somewhere out of sight, pissed off that the town didn’t want *him* to perform instead of Batcorn. So that leaves, well, Pink herself. And then maybe these 2. And maybe that Pamela, if she’s not merely a dream figure of Pink’s — probably not. But we’ll meet more soon. Better end this post so we can get at that.

“Songs are over, Andrew ‘Biff’ Carter,” she said, putting away the guitars back inside the bench. “Time for bed again.”

“Where’s — my tractor?” he asked, partially out of the trance since the music was over but quickly put back under inside.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re free of that old clunker now, along with your clunker of a family, Biff. You have me now. *Now*. Inside with you you old shucker,” and she slapped his buttocks to get his big feet started in the right direction.

We’ve answered the part about Biff at least and, by default, June. Formerly Jane as in Plain before she turned herself into a witch.

(to be continued)

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November 18, 2023 · 9:47 pm

00410110

“Well he obviously crashed it into that lamp post and then stumbled off somewhere, probably drunk on his expensive wine he claims he can’t taste/doesn’t touch. Probably off in the middle of the woods where no one can find him, no one goes for fear of being lost.”

“Or,” offered Marsha “Pink” Krakow as a alternative, “he was *taken*.”

“Taken??” responded Pamela, then was gone. Marsha woke up on the wrong side of the bed in what was initially a strange, unknown place. Then she recalled what happened. The finding of the formerly hidden bedroom.

She knew what she had to do. She walked outside. “Alright I’m ready to talk to you, you stinky old man. About the *truth*.”

Did — he just shoot me a bird?? Marsha then noticed his legs weren’t buried in the soil any longer. Would actual fit her new theory well. Things were being changed, things were being altered. Right under her cute-as-a-button nose.

“You’re from North Carolina I see,” he started after a pause, looking over at the VW Bug still parked on the road near his sitting bench. He also knew the town, the street, the house. Just by looking at the plate.

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November 18, 2023 · 9:11 am

00410109

“Sure is pretty here, um, June.”

June? Jane thought. But she wasn’t the first to call her that. “Jane,” she corrected mildly.

“Oh right. Sorry. Anyway, I guess the tractor didn’t make it down to this beach. I looked in the surrounding woods and even under the water. Remotely of course.”

“I’ve been standing here for quite a while and I haven’t see anything,” trying-to-be-helpful Jane said to her fellow villager, also a big fan of the band she and her sister Rachel were in. Now where is her accordion playing sibling anyway? Rehearsal is in 2 hours. She better text Reuben and Steuben to remind them as well.

So that’s 2 sisters in the band Batcorn, and also 2 brothers, but the sisters and brothers are unrelated to each other. So this is sorta like 70s pop supergroup ABBA and sorta not. But they wanted to be big still, ABBA big. They had their sights set on so much more than Amiable, despite their wild popularity in the village among young and old alike. Heck, even tone deaf Andrew “Biff” Carter attended their last gig, dragging along Wally with him, saying it would be good for the boy to get away from the farmhouse and listen to what *other* people liked. Poor, punk obsessed Wally, Jane often thought. He’ll never understand the beauty of actual, roots based songs.

She was the one who came up with the name Batcorn, a combo of the village’s obsession with corn and her favorite superhero Batman from Gotham City. Actually, she preferred villains like Joker and Penguin in the mythology but didn’t relay this to anyone except those closest to her. Rachel knew of course. And Reuben and Steuben. And one other yet to be determined. A boyfriend perhaps.

(to be continued)

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