Tag Archives: Carrcassonnee^^+++++!

February 2, 2023 · 2:42 am

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“What are all these… plywoods?” the struggling, swaying giant walker boomed down. 10 yards made, about 20 to go.

“Never mind that Carrcassonnee, we need to focus on that opening in front of us — the main entrance to the castle. You need to get low enough so that you’ll fit through that door. I know you can do it. Get a little closer then start bending down, bending down. Sloow and easyy.”

Carrcassonneee and her great olive body cooperated. 15 minutes later she was through the opening and out in the open, 7th spire straight ahead.

—–

“We’re going to have to do it again, Carrcassonnee. Bend down — get a little closer first again. It’s going to be a little lower this time — sorry. Don’t lose your balance. I’m right here.” A lot of good I’ll do, Mahoney thinks at this point, if she starts to topple. All he can really do is be a cheerleader, urging her forward and to the scene of the bath. The soap had all been prepared. Dove, not Ivory. Because Carr has to *see* it all. Ivory would just sting the eye. They learned that the hard way back in Rubi, way back in photo-novel 1. Because we’ve gone full circle.

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February 1, 2023 · 9:52 am

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“What are we negotiating *now*, Young Me?”

“The return of Karoz Blogger to Mainland, Jeogeot continent in particular. Somoco specifically. The Julia House to pinpoint.”

“Ahh,” spoke the old hag that was also Shelley. “You want a return to the *N* (for it).”

“Not… necessarily.”

“You *know* what that means,” she says while nodding her head up and down in an irritatingly frantic way to Shelley.

“I… do.”

—–

Wasn’t going to happen, both knew, but they were playing along. The unexpected beaver float in the cove out back pinpointed *this* location. Something had to happen here. They were experimenting. They started again.

“You *know* you will retain your current form.”

“Yes,” said Shelley back to her older self. Much older.

“You and Arthur will continue to be married. Might be rocky. Might be bumps in the road. Maybe a pothole or two. But you will persist. I should know.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you want–?”

“No.” She didn’t.

“Get in the float,” the old hag then said. “Easy as that. Transport,” she explained. “From this photo-novel to the next. Just get inside. Enjoyy.”

Shelley stared over, wondering if this was on the up and up or not. She couldn’t tell. The old witch was ahead of her again. “I’ll… give you a big ol’ choco chip cookie if you do it. You can hold it in front of you. Like a steering wheel. You are a Carr… repeat after me. You are a Carr.”

“I am a Carr.”

“You are a *Carr*.”

“I *am* a Carr.”

“You are… well, you know the rest.”

—–

“Come on, Carr,” urged Clifton Mahoney, full transferred over from Baker Bloch. “I know it’s early but your bath is 5 days overdue. Get your drying moss ready.”

“Broken,” the great olive being replied.

“I know. We’re going to get you fixed up… cleaned up.”

“Not what–”

“I know. Come on, get up. I know you can do it.”

“Need… help.”

“Why I’m here.” And he moved toward Carr to help her get started.

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January 30, 2023 · 9:34 am

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The next morning, Lucas examined the created tunnel more closely. Town scoundrels, he thought. Obviously planted this garden in this particular spot to hide any sign of the old tracks that might remain. But Mahoney had figured it out. Tiny back to Teensie. His mission would succeed. All he had to do now to make it work is lure the great olive being Carrcassonnee into the 7th Spire, directly above the tunnel, for her bi-yearly bath. Overdue by 3 days actually. Carrcassonnee, pheh, he thinks. It was the only way to get her properly started, get her talking again. Otherwise: just raspberry noises.

“Da-ddy!” called Bradley Boyy from the top of the tunnel. “Here comes the smoke again!”

“Pipe down, son,” he hissed up, looking anxiously around as his son holds his breath once more while the invisible loco passes through. They better keep pretending they’re walking about the place randomly, this Soos Mountain Community in the sw corner of Soos. “Get on down from there and let’s continue — you’ve had your fun.”

“Alright, Daddy.”

Daddy, yeah. Keep calling me that, he thinks. Until we get back to Julia.

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January 26, 2023 · 1:00 pm

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“And over there is Carbon Glow — geez, I didn’t even realize they were that close. So you see, I’m the one that has to rescue Carrcassonnee from the cave.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” queried Lucas. “I thought — you already went into the cave.”

“No, that was a *dream* about going into the cave I told you. Quite different.”

“Oh.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow for the cave? Out back? Under the 7th spire of Soos Mountain Castle. Somoca?” Lucas was trying to keep straight on everything; not get bogged down in the labyrinth of information again. Carbon Glow? Kentucky? Carcassonne? But with the extra letters to disguise the link. But now he’s telling it openly.

“Yes. Just through the vegetable garden. The Red Door Church should have shut their doors while they had the chance.”

“Tell me about that relationship once more.”

It was here Clifton “Carbon Glow” Mahoney told him about the deleted train track. And the train. Teensie, also known as Tiny (before the 1st Robolution). The train use to pass right through its doors and into the cave. He was going to revive it.

“What about Spider?” Lucas then asks, knowing the mutt had to be in on it too.

“You leave that to me.”

(to be continued)

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January 24, 2023 · 12:24 pm

castle deity

“See? He likes you. He’s staring at you instead of me.”

“And…” said Lucas to the left of us, the reader or readers, “… you are?” He had to ask. The other seemed oblivious to the transformation that happened while they walked up the hill to here, not really a chance meeting since the town wasn’t that big.

“Baker. Baker Bloch. We just looked at the Falls Shack together the other day. You pay me rent. 15 bucks a month.”

“You are not Baker,” spoke Lucas. “Or at least the Baker I know.”

“Well of course–” Baker Bloch looked down at his non-gloved hands, his olive drab shirt, his black-gray shoes and pants. He was not the Baker he knew.

“Explain,” said Lucas. “Explain everything. Start with Carrcassonnee. How did you come up with such a krazy kooky name?”

—–

I Carr,

I sat today with blog owner and blog stranger or newcomber. They asked me questions about my source. I, Carr, came up with something. Rrrrr. RRRRrrrrr. Rrr Rrr RRRRrrrrrrr. I start (continual raspberry noise).

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November 15, 2022 · 1:53 pm

The redshirts are coming the redshirts are coming.

Lt. Ohura here doesn’t count. Wrong sex, although certainly the right one personally to win an all important favor from the Cpt. Car was the eventual outcome, short for Carbon, Ohura’s favorite element next to Potassium. And she didn’t want her son going around being referred to as Pot or Potty, or have his full name contain the word “ass” in it. Carbon it was. Munch didn’t need to know anything about the infant. She hid inside the black hole behind the bar, and him with her. Always from that point on. Carbon Glow Mahoney, a fake last name, as close to baloney as you can get without giving everything away, she felt: her fake life in 1000 Cy. after the U.S.S. Ararat had left the scene, taking the Cpt., Speck, all the remaining red shirts with it, along with the “inferior” females. Ohura, I mean, Liz would eventually loosen their psychological shackles as well, giving them freedoms in the mind along with the body. But first she had to deal with the boy in the harsh glare of city life. Life itself.

“Come on, Carb (as he preferred instead of Car when he reached a certain age), let’s get you to the dentist for that tooth filling party.” She lied and told him he was named after her favorite part of the car — carburetor — which she also liked because it referenced the name “car” itself. She wanted to hide the space part of herself as decorated officer Winnifried Ohura as much as possible; wanted to be absorbed inside the role of bartender/lady of the night Elizabeth Mahoney, a common girl from the proto-ghetto (progo).  Car(r), hmm. I’m starting to know who this actually is, an old old friend of the blog, almost older than time itself. Through him they are able to look into the past and see revolution, robot style. Or 1/2 robot, 1/2 biological, yes. Like Car himself as it turns out. Only 1/2 carbon, see. The other 1/2: car or carburetor. Machine. Yes, I think I’ve about got it. Earth and Space.

She came up with the 1/2 thing analyzing a minion just before she beamed down to her new life, appropriately enough, her last work as a Star Team bioscientist. Fern would be proud, I assume.

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September 13, 2022 · 6:29 am

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Silentghost sure is pretty, thought Liz from her meditating position, curious but not looking over again. They were talking about rumps before, she heard — that’s the word they used for it after she showed up, materializing from where Wheeler stood just prior. “I better get back to my Newt,” she heard her say, like waking up from a dream, “and you better get back to your Liz,” she spoke to Shelley just before vanishing. So here she is. Pauline Silentghost warmed to her quickly. “You will stay here with me for a while,” she said. “I’ll teach you much about Nautilus, both the shell and the continent. Shelley too — no accident about her name there — and also, also…”

“Wheeler?” Liz offered in the gap. Pauline Silentghost had been having trouble saying that name ever since Reno. Shot a man just to watch him die, she’d heard, or at least the Wilson version of her did, the male aspect. Black and white, on and off, dead and alive even. Liz had answers, Liz was gifted. Just like her Mom.

—–

“Whatcha doing future child of mine?”

“Absorbing.”

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September 13, 2022 · 4:44 am

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“The only Butt that’s going to show up in this photo is mine,” spoke up Silentghost, tired of the bog down, but also noting the deleted or unsuccessful profile pic involved yet another purple outfit. Fitting: too fitting. Supposed notorious outlaw on the run Wilson had nothing to say, since she was actually Wheeler. What kind of luck did she have assuming the name of a fugitive from the law?? What did it speak of her character to attract this person into her life?

“I — don’t remember taking that picture, I swear,” she said, plotting her defense. She didn’t. Not her pic!

“Com’on,” insisted Silentghost. “Ρùℜ℘Îē?”

There is another me out there, thought Wilson Wheeler both wrongly and rightly.

Observing Shelley had seen it too but she wasn’t shocked or damaged in any way. Instead: curious. Futuristic (outfit), she pondered. *From* the future. And so it was. She told this to Wilson who was actually Wheeler. Time is being confused, she added in her psychic manner.

She traced the picture back to last Halloween. The lone blog post published from that day, toward the last of photo-novel 29 which I am just re-reading now, was certainly quite purple in nature and mentioned a purple swamp shack in particular, along with Prince’s “Purple Rain” album.

https://bakerbloch.com/2021/10/31/00290608/

“I’m going back to that swamp,” she said to Newt on the phone later. Paper-Soap: he was there too. He studied the post while she spoke. Box… Borneo. They were not even really dating at the time. Perhaps they still weren’t, although they’d been married since.

Shelley contemplated the post afterwards too. *She* was there, at the resurrection beach with Cat-Witch who is… *Wheeler*. Just the day before.

Whatever happened to Liz?

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September 11, 2022 · 8:11 am

progression

Let’s see, I have to fit the Duck back in here somewhere.

—–

“Yes, put on a robe, stay a while,” said Pauline Silentghost by her side, still assuming the pose of a master (channeler). “How’s your knee doing?”

“Fine,” Wheeler said, taking all the shifts in stride per usual. She doesn’t remember changing into the purple-ish robe but here we are. In… Sansara? Yes, but a special part, she realized. An artsy fartsy sub-continent to the immediate east and south. It’s a place she doesn’t think she’s ever been before until now. Thanks to Scroop, or Scrougeout as they call the Nautilus sim in these here parts. So says Pauline. The Oracle rules all in this out of the way, edge of the world type of location. Perhaps it’s just the distance from everything else that makes it so.

“You know who has to show up next.” Stares.

“Do I?” Wheeler tired of meeting the gaze and looked down at her robe, examining the texture. The finest cloth, she saw (and felt), perhaps cashmere. When she looked up: this.

“So who’s this fresh piece of hell?” she queried, but then knew the answer, which instantly became another question. “Daughter?”

It was Shelley Struthers with a, er, Scrougeout t-shirt, another duck.

“She is the owner of the castle,” replied Pauline, wiser than ever. Rust Never Sleeps becoming Roost Never Sleeps again. She turns. “Aren’t you dearest?”

“My name is Shelley,” she spoke plainly.

“Yes, we know your name,” replied robed Wheeler sitting across from her. She stared into umbrella eyes.

“My husband is George. We own the castle. Together.”

Shelley was much too young to be married. This was a future vision obviously, Wheeler realized. “Timeline, please,” she requested as politely as possible. “You’re a *child*.”

“I am *your* child.” Stares again all around. Awkwardness. Wheeler suspected she had a daughter for several years now, perhaps many years. The spaceship.

—–

“I’m telling you, Newt. She’s *real*.” He’d suspected as well. Black and white, male and female, on and off. Clone? Possibility.

(to be continued)

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September 10, 2022 · 6:02 pm

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“I am Pauline Silentghost with the g silent and the h — not silent.”

“Pauline Silenthost?” replied Wheeler phonetically.

“Yes. (pause) I am the wisdom of all things–”

“–Nautilus, yes. I gathered that.” Wheeler indicated behind the entity at the circular framed nautilus shell, obvious symbol for the continent she once again inhabits. Like returned Rust. “Thus, I suppose, your smaller property in Scroop.”

“Scrougeout, yes. We call it Scrougeout. Carrcassonnee has decided so.”

“The… Oracle.”

“Yess.”

It was here Wheeler understood that they were talking to each other in their heads and not bodies. It was also here that Wheeler realized she was floating in air as a disembodied head or sumtin before the Oracle. Silentghost *was* the Oracle, or a channeler of Carrcassonnee in the moment. “You know Spider,” said Silentghost the Oracle. Then she fired these numbers very rapidly, the first being the same as the last. 24 permutations in total. Like this: “2130 1230 3210 2310 1320 3120 3102 1302 0312 3012 1032 0132 0231 2031 3021 0321 2301 3201 1203 2103 0123 1023 2013 0213 2130.”

“I suppose,” replied Wheeler, remaining even keeled through it all. “We found him in Tennessee. A Red Arrow indicated his presence there. And 8 shoes. And a bird, a dove perhaps.”

“Ahh… *my* dove. Victor, short for Victory. And *Victoria*.”

Wheeler tried to absorb this seeming nonsense, knowing it actually wasn’t.

“Let’s go down to my treehouse and talk further,” Silentghost requested, and then they were there.

(to be continued)

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