Tag Archives: Casey the Alien/Casey One Hole^*===%$

the bird beats the bug

We follow him down to the door of — where he lived? We open the door. Not a chained prisoner as we suspected a bit. Not sentient Christmas excrement Mr. Hankey from South Park, another logical candidate. But Casey One Hole. Casey One Hole, yikes!

“A Blue Bird?!” he exclaimed, truly surprised himself. “I was expecting a Cardinal or perhaps a Rooster at worst, ha ha. This should be easy.”

“He swiftly moves toward me,” Blue Bird who opened the door to the outhouse — or tramp shack or whatever it actually was — kept on explaining to the others, “towering over me, cornering me, as the toys had tried before but didn’t succeed with. Then I looked down at his ‘weapon’ and started snickering.

“‘W-what?’ he managed between snarls, and followed the direction of my eyes.

“A mop instead of a golf club. He *had* no weapon. He swatted at my head with it anyway in the subsequent intensification of anger but it just kind of tickled my cheeks. Soft as downy wings — charmed obviously. Something had happened. Casey One Hole had been neutralized through the outhouse — I knew now this was an outhouse, a bathroom set to be cleaned, perhaps in perpetuity.

“‘Better get back to it,’ I joked while pointing in its direction as he jumped up and down in frustration, then swung the mop round and round, aiming at nothing now; crazy as a beetle. I left free as a bird. Appropriate.”

“Poe fellow,” said Mistress, seeming to miss the point but actually not. She unclasped her wing-like hands and settled back in the rocking chair again. Venus on the 1/2 bed decided to sing a song.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0612, Nautilus, Omega^^, Retirement Islands, The Cross^, Wild West

Monroe Ray: cyborg

I died. Right over there. Smashed in the face. Head gone. Then: return. I sit here. Waiting for The One.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0604, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West

Back in Collagesity…

… the Blue *Thorn* walks into a pizza establishment, only to discover the irony of his main bane. He *himself* is this mysterious Monroe Ray who borrowed his antique red Chevy and perhaps drove it into the levy but definitely, at any rate, got himself lost… then killed. Smashed in the face by Casey One Hole in the 256 defined Red Room, one a-hole of a guy as we know. Thus the cybernetics. “Don’t die, don’t die,” said the one armed doctor, hovering above him like a white masked angel. And so he didn’t but being brought back to life in this way, in this manner, cost him. Recruitment into Pot-D; tough boss Buster Damm over him now. “Damn!” he often cursed at his situation.


He sat in Collagesity’s newest business for half an hour, waiting on the pizza he’d ordered just before climbing the beige hill to the village within the village, a microcosm. He’d figure it out soon enough. The pizza was made by himself at the same time and it sat there on the counter, waiting for him to open the lid and solve the puzzle. More would come of this.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0601, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

00310411

“You can’t cage me up. I am like fireflies in the center of night, multitudinous yet coordinated, synchronized. Blink blink off. Blink off off. And so on.”

“Are you…”

“Don’t say it. You know who I am.”

“How about Flytrap (then)?” The blue-green gave it away.

—–

She walked backwards into the hole. All she knew tonight was that she had to find Monroe Ray and this was the place to do it.

She made sure her eyes were wide open as the oily thing took her in. (bleh!)

Then out (helb!) and backwards toward the Venus Flytrap statue — can’t look at it directly or else, she knew.

Then: white horse, good. She was there. And she didn’t have to look at its ass coming in; also good.

Tripping over a border between more dark and less dark, she tumbled backwards forwards right into his head. It was the only way to make things work, she realized afterwards — and also before. The Man known as Ray…

… was dead.

“I’ve been waiting on you,” he said mechanically, like a bull.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0411, Gaeta V^^, Hana Lei^^, Twin Peaks Laboratory

seven

Norris was sitting in the hot seat up in the Red Room. He wasn’t going to leave until he’d memorized every object, every corner. His mind was downloading all. He’d been waiting for so long. He’d give a 1000 WIS maps for this, he briefly thought between measurements. 200 to 214 now. Shouldn’t be much longer. Billie Jean Kidd begged him to get up, and that this was not Clyde and that they need to get the hell outta here before… he comes back. The club man.

“The club man?” said Norris, not afraid of anyone at this point. He had so much information. Besides, he’d been killed once before by same. Just comes back in the next photo-novel. Until the end, which is now. 228: nearly there.

“Please, *please*,” she pleaded in front of him, again and again, tugging at his arm, trying to get him to move… out of that seat! “He’s coming, he’s coming!” she cried, hearing footsteps in the corridor, slow and weighty. Sometimes he slid the club, a 4 wood if she remembers correctly, on the ground beside him to add to the menacing sound. Clop-*clop* hisss clop-*clop* hisss clop-*clop*. Around the corner he appears, just as Norris is downloading it, the final one, the final piece of the puzzle.

An Ass? Casey One Hole wasn’t expecting this.

256. Download complete.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” spoke Billie Jean Kidd. “Welcome to Clyde!!”

Did it work?? We’ve unfortunately run out of posts and time in this here photo-novel and will have to wait until the next for that answer, sorry!!!

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2021-2022 WINTER”!

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0707, Gaeta V^^, Ohio, Twin Peaks Laboratory

00280511

A rat scurried across the floor in front of red clad Greg Odgen. Mouse tried to ignore it but couldn’t. Anything bigger than himself, if only in name, spooked him. But it was safe here; that was the point. No one came down to this place beneath what they called the mayor’s house.

Norris spoke up. “You promised me information about the Red Room, and a “Return”. I haven’t seen the Red Room yet, not hair nor hide. The Red Room,” he insisted in his deadpan way. Face bleached out to disguise who he really was (mayor?), this man had observed a lot in his day from this couch and that couch; seen dancers come and go; seen prison schematics but couldn’t talk about them; observed maps of strange, unknown places — other ones — and memorized them as well. He had *information*. But the Red Room remained off limits. He wanted to know why. Casey One Hole was still tracking him down. He figured he’d go to the end of the galaxy to do so if needed, the far corners of space itself. This means even Muff wouldn’t hide him forever, disattached to Bermingham as it were. “I have the WIS map; I’ll trade you the Red Room for WIS.”

Mouse knew this wouldn’t fly, as a bat ran into the back of his chair and became like a rat, scurrying around once more with radar momentarily lost. He pondered again the palindrome nature of that word: radar. He thought of Norris hiding on Muff. Wouldn’t fly.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0511, Paper Soap, Soap

Alysha

“She’s always over there just staring at the fire, waiting for him to come home and tell her what to do. Robot, I say. Completely controlled. *I* was the rebel. He didn’t like that.” She paused in her soliloquy to take a drag off her cigarette, a Virginia Slim I believe, long and lean on smoke. She blew what little she had away from the child sitting next to her, then turned. An Asian, she thinks. Just like Sally over there at the Coast Guard building. Could it be? She packed those suspicions away and sent them down a baggage conveyor. Nah: impossible. She’s just a lackey, not smart enough to live a double life, much less shrink down to child size if needed. This was just an innocent youth before her, a *friend*. She hadn’t had one of those in a while. Not since Bettie. Or was it Ruth?

So she decides to unload more. Why not: it makes her feel good and that’s what matters in the moment. Another drag off the slim cigarette; another pleasure. Today was the day for enjoyment, since this was her day off from that other job that’s suppose to bring joy but almost always doesn’t in the end. Except for Pete.

“The Fortress, it is called by some. Maybe John.” She stops; another drag, another exhale away from the child.

“Who owns it?” the child dared to venture, picking her openings carefully. She had to keep up the ruse. No time to get cold feet now. That will be later when she ices them down from the hot sand. Azura Beach! She truly loved this little hidden spot with its cute dunes just away from the Airport grounds. But she must remember her real task: digging for information instead of clams, although that would be later as well.

“K.C. some call him. Others: L.A. I think he likes to use the initials of famous cities. Maybe ones he’s visited.” She stares directly over at it, knowing the new gal, if you could even call her that, the robot, would be sitting in there, staring at the flames that would certain consume her just like they did herself. A witch, they called her, and then she had to live in that ditch behind the airport for a couple of months until she was able to at least rent this cottage on the edge of his property. He had at least the dignity to do that. And he’s probably just keeping her around when he gets tired of the new one, with her more ample bosom and brown-not-blue eyes. He tired of blue, he tired of normal. And always with the golf club; might as well be a baseball bat the way he cracks it. Always plays the odd numbered holes and skips the even. Then in the evening he evens it out with the even holes. Complicated man. And she could still spy on him, but of course that’s what he wanted. He wanted her to see the new gal-robot and how he controlled her just as she was controlled. “Look,” he could hear him say with his smokey, deadpan voice in her head, “and learn.”

(to be continued?)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0614, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

00240111

“First she met with Blue Thorn, who explained why he dropped the Rose along with the Thorn.”

“But he’s still ‘Thorn’,” replied [name removed to simplify].

“Right. I meant throne there.”

“Throne. Okay. That makes more sense.”

“And then the wars were brought up. The wars that are still going on now. The past is the present. At least in the Thorn Room.”

“And then Casey One Hole?”

“Yes, he showed up next. They’d moved to the bar by then. Or Tessa had. He has links all around.”

“He’s certainly ever-present,” responded [delete name].

“And then Stumpy, moved over here from Moe’s bar seemingly.”

“Who’s in charge of Moe’s now? [delete name] logically asked, being a [delete job title]. “Is it Moe again? I thought he was dead. Or maybe I’m just thinking he retired. Oh… Karl showed up… I remember now. Another 1/2 and 1/2 situation.”

“That are coming up more frequently.”

“1/2 and 1/2,” joked [delete name], to no laughter. Okay: 1/2 and 1/2 again. Baker chuckled a little bit.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0111, Green Yarn, Hana Lei^^

G G Club

“I don’t know. I guess I tired of sitting on the Thorn Throne all day. I combined the name into Thron, without the ‘e’, and had a chuckle. I became bored again.

I don’t know. I guess I started some wars because I was bored, sorry.”

“Wars that are still going on *now*,” Tessa said to his side.

“Yeah, suppose. I said I was sorry.”

“How did you become *Ray*, Blue Rose Thorn?”

“Just Thorn. I chucked the Rose with the throne. I don’t know.”

“Stop *saying* that.”

“I  — I guess, I suppose, I *realize* — now — it started in Tennessee in that mine. It was my mine. The Blue Rose. I was royal blue at the time.”

“So like now.”

“Suppose.”

—–

Later:

“He’s linked to Winterfell all right. The past of Rose Heaven…”

“… when it and Caledonia to the south were linked.”

“Links all around.”

“Golf?”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0109, Green Yarn, Rose Heaven^^

holey

“Things are breaking down here at Slot Mtn. my precious precocious child. You will not be able to hold me much longer in your net.”

Toddles thought of Canada, of the weakening of Our Second Lyfe. When was a breaking point? Perhaps *now*.

She decides to take action. The grandma will have to be drugged again, pheh. Always the bad headache in the morning for her when this happens. She never suspects. Her precious precocious Toddles! But the grammy also doesn’t understand the Boos collages and their inherent Canadian-ness and will always favor the earlier Red Umbrella works and not understand that if things change in them it is because of the future which is the now. *102* is trying to communicate with her. But Casey One Hole, the a-hole of a man sitting before her and stating he is about ready to be let loose upon this virtual world with no checks in place, wants or is seeking the same thing. The Dirty Little Wet Seed is Adam: Atom-man. This produces the Green Tree. And inside the tree is Lemmy. And Lemmy is the one that can end the 102 and the salvific effect if he stays pat, protection (safety net) withdrawn.

But whose head is in the jar now? That must be the next question before we proceed further. I can’t quite get the right match. It’s not Homer. Not any longer. I don’t think.

Casey One Hole, formerly Taum Sauk of Bigfoot, Blue Mountain Urban Landscape (or thereabouts), US of Our A, continues: “If you place the right head in the jar, child, then maybe, *maybe* Your Second Lyfe can remain intact. I’ll allow that at least. Whose head did I hit with my mighty club to dislodge it from the body? Is it Homer still? The name certainly fits because they found it, bruised and battered, far over some left field fence. Think about that, child, while you stare at your Canadian images in your Canadian gallery with the 102 sister firmly set in place at a certain point.” Casey One Hole stops. He’s said too much. Must be all the caffeine for supper.

Sister? thought Toddles. Sister!

—–

She knew this was the one. “I’m going in, Grammy. Wish me luck!”

“Hi Toddles! I’m Hucka Doobie! Grab a shovel and let’s start *digging*. We’ve got to get me away from that club!”

Oh dear, she thinks while shoveling and staring into the resulting hole at the corner of this western Canadian yard. What have I gotten myself *into*??

“Faster, faster!” the bug eyed, yellow headed bee-being who cannot dig himself commands from the side.

The ball comes. The hole is dug. Just in time.

—–

“Interesting choice.”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0302, animation, Canada/Tungaska, collages 2d, Marwood, NE Hills, NWES Island^