Tag Archives: Chef/Inspector Petty^*~~~~~~!

00280510

Hatti the witch disappeared from the cell block. Across the aisle, fellow prisoner Patrick McDonnelhany’s head turned into a pen. Or pencil — hard to tell from this distance, Stu Umbriel thought. He turned around as well, tried to look beyond the frame by facing it squarely. No luck. He remained panicked and in character. Fern Stalin spoke.

“We are at 42, Stu. The Answer. Are you ready?”

Was he? He looked to the right. He looked to the left. No escape. He was as ready as he’d ever be. Which was never.

—–

“The director is dead,” she deadpanned to Chef-inspector Petty upstairs. “Killed in the Biker Bar and Grilling explosion day before Sunday of week before last month’s Tuesday. Do you recall?”

Or course he recalled, he thinks. He was first on the scene, picking at the bones and flesh of the unfortunate victims. Like Hank Graphite and his gorilla bodyguard; like Ted 02 the half android cyclops; like family challenged Sugar McDermit and bar owner Biker Mann. And then: Biker Chick, also known as Chuck Cheese also known as Heidi, formerly Penn Mann. The director of this here photo-novel, 28 in a series of infinity apparently (ha). We’ve been without direction, then, since, let’s see, post 0280110. Quite near the beginning, then. Fern says all of this to Chef-inspector Petty, omniscient narrator in the moment. Could have been before she went downstairs to the cell block, could’ve been afterwards. Doesn’t matter in the moment.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0510, Paper Soap

res(e)t

“Alright enough of this mumbo jumbo hoochie koochie stuff, Minister (same as the funeral home director, conveniently enough). Let’s just get it over with and open the coffin.” Petty was inpatient to see what the Anomaly of this amalgamated town, Paper-Soap, was actually like. A plasmic entity as the sheriff suspected, one Wilbur Marshallford of Pennsylvania, Indiana? A luminous, demonic birthday hat as Koyla, Stu Umbriel, and now black-not-Indian Chief thought, product of that ill advised party and decisions made there? Probably glowing then, wouldn’t you think?

“Just as I suspected,” Chef-inspector Petty continued after the coffin lid had been raised mentally by all attending. “This plot is empty; Ruby is no longer in this world. Only a figurative diamond remains. But to whose hands? Who is wedded to the grave?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0616, Paper Soap

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Hookah here, hookah over there (on the other porch). The Anomaly grows. Not sure I can complete the story in this novel. Code name: Caterpillar, perhaps WORM (WURM). Freshly formed Martin at the window may know. Martin, Luther.

He moves inside, takes a seat at the bar. The glowing birthday hat and Giant for a Day blue t-shirt gave away his identity.

“I’m on the other side of the counter now, ‘Umbriel, Stu’. You serve *me*.”

“You tell him Martin!” encouraged another new figure from his position next to the door, a gatekeeper of sorts.

“That’s all right — Luther is it?” Stu Umbriel guesses, taking the switcheroo with the person formerly known as Chief in stride. “I’ll get my twin sister Loo to help with the bar. Right over there she lives.” Stu points beyond the house next door now set up with a duplicate hookah to his — and even on the same spot on the porch — to the dark opening on the eastern edge of Swamp Lake, not big enough to become a sea and getting further from that designation back to out-and-out swamp every day. Atrophism. Maybe that has something to do with the Anomaly as well.

“We’re not identical as you know, Luther, but close,” he furthers. The Sewer hole beckons.

In checking back through my posts, I see I have overlooked mention of Paper Soap’s Swamp Lake up until now. Here’s an overhead view, Chief Stu’s bar toward the north next to the sheriff’s office where the Anomaly was first spotted. Probably should catch up with chef-inspector Petty to see how he’s doing.

“WURM” he spoke with conviction at the meeting still going just north of the Swamp Lake bar, naming the thing at last. “And spell that with a U and omit the E. I think.” Conviction wavering, apparently. Missing letters will do that to you.

Gee Cat 02, now just Gee Cat period — having ate the other — prepares to move inside.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0612, Paper Soap

00270503

“Ahem. Gentlemen… and women. As you can see. We have a problem. With the Portal.”

“Why is it called *Moster*… sir?” Officer Jetski in back. He’d just checked the description, which most of the others sitting around the conference table had already done and came up with the answers themselves.

Chef-inspector Petty was trying not to turn around. The effect could be blinding. “Typo I suspect. Someone probably drunk when creating it. Or possibly a misleading name… can’t be traced back that way.”

Silence for a second except for the steady humm of the… well I think it called itself Dinah earlier on, or that’s what several of them thought they heard upon its appearance. Like an announcement: “Dinah: front and center.”

“I can’t get through.” Agent 47 up front.

“Me neither.” Agent 23 across from him. “It’s jammed…”

“… the system.”

Whatever followed Petty through the Portal to this sheriff’s office was taking over the whole of Soap.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0503, Paper Soap

Jerry Lind

She’d basically been living in Wallytown for I don’t how long, weeks at least. She’d taken enough showers to kill a cow, wash a bible head starless black ink sculpture all the way back to clear. She wasn’t done. Someone was with her, urging her on. Her worse half, as she called the louse (see above). This was the Orient, this was India. *She* was India. It was about time for an interview.

India: Glad be here. Glad you like my secret schweet smile.

Me: I missed you in Delhi and New Delhi. Turns out it was American instead of Asia.

India: I like hiding (laugh; smile revealed again)

Me: Chef-inspector Petty is hot on your tail. How do you feel about that?

India: He’ll never find me. And if he did he’s just a mesh object. No danger to him, none atall (smile again).

Me: What of the plane?

India: There *is* no plane. Petty knows.

Me: What of Kolya, who also goes by Pepi and Can?

India: (after a pause, then serious) A schweet boy, but damaged goods. I dare not touch him.

Me: And Alysha? We seemed to have scared away all the main characters.

India: *We* are the main characters. Always have been, you and I (she points to her and me).

Me: Alysha is Asian (I tried).

India: We are done.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0201, Omega^^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^

00260116

I figure out which one was Indian Lake Rd. and head up it, bound for, well, India, the secret Petty also wanted. I knew I had to incarnate in a body soon but put it off until I reached my destination. I seem to have memories of a before time, but not of a bug or a bird or anything like that. A flesh and blood person, just like myself. We had crossed into the Sphere which is God in a way, the all knowing and all seeing, like a big eye in the sky. “My unicorn” I observed on the back of a warning sign about a sharp right turn ahead, which I’d just passed through after crossing a bridge. But the “i” was blocked out by the sign post. I suddenly couldn’t see again.

I backed up and started observing again. Yes, I had located Indian Lake Road thank you very much. And “boo” yourself!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0116, Illinois

00250115

I went ground-side to look for the site of the crash, if it was a crash. Jen Saunders insisted that it *wasn’t* a crash, and that all passengers arrived at Delhi, New Delhi and thereabouts intact and with wits still in place. I knew *something* had occurred, some anomaly. I thought back to the movie “Sphere” and the anomaly there, which was a black hole, perhaps an X 1/9 variety. Used car salesman Jonathan Piper insisted it had to be lime colored and not lemon in his early mid-life crisis (according to his wife the esteemed Mrs. Jonathan Studebaker Piper). “Pipe down, son,” he exclaimed while on the phone about it to still yelling Cory, sometimes known as Peter because of the last name and all. It was a mystery, a conundrum, and chef-inspector Petty was here to help solve it. But he seemed more interested to know the whereabouts of the girl with the schweet secret smile than the passenger ship. He wanted to move, in other words, from Lower to Upper Austra, beyond bridging green valley into the beige highland again. In other words, away from Collagesity and its personal sphere of influence (as centered between Highways 13 and 14). Anyway, back to the place indicted by the road. Sign confusion! Indian Lake Road straight ahead and to the right and Airport Road to the right and the left. We appear to be in all places at once without being anywhere atall. Sounds about right.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0115, Illinois

Gee

He looked at the book, the book looked at he.

—–

“So describe this woman,” Chef-inspector Petty requested, calm and eating peanuts out of an imaginary bag as usual. He’d been observing the developing situation for a while. The yells of “Tom” from Cory, the hysterics of Jen Saunders yesterday, the tripping over the Asian girl with the dull red book, knocking it on the floor to a specific page he noticed. He flipped 10 and noticed again, then. Anderson County — mention of Anderson. And then the crash. And then the turtle from the ditch, dragged back in by a tiny witch. It was all adding up to something, perhaps 45.

“It *wasn’t* a *woman*,” still a bit discombobulated Jen Saunders exasperated. “I *told* you. It was a plane. Or a missing plane.”

“How many on board when it crashed?” Here he obviously thought of her crashing into oh so yelling Cory.

“It *didn’t* crash. All passengers arrived at Dehli or New Dehli, bodies intact, if not wits.” She shakes her head, as if correcting something loose in it. “Oh, yes, their wits as well. It is as if they never *missed* the plane.”

“You said the plane was full (though).”

“The plane *was* full.” Head shaking again. “Oh, I see. No they didn’t realized there was no plane around them, propelling them forward. ‘Not missing’ as in ‘not realizing’, not: missing the plane in the first place.”

“Oh.” He gobbles another imaginary goober. Or not — doesn’t matter. Description is variable, as is space/time itself. He makes a mental note that he might be dealing with an automaton. She hadn’t answered anything about the woman he was *really* interested in, this W.

What should they say next, I ponder.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0107, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

Fern’s Hill (balance)

They said if I went far back enough in time to lose my hair that I would see him. MAN. About to create Mistery from Mystery and Misery; combination of islands and isles. But where was I?

And what’s that island just over there? Oops! Got my hair back just as that tree found foliage. That must be my isle (!).

Fern, who Spore in his jealousy has deemed Substitute Fern, was smart, perhaps too much so. I don’t think she’ll be that easy to eliminate.

MAN was nowhere to be found now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0214, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Outer Islands

Obvious Isle

He often trots over to the south side of the island to stare with Giant Pety across the water at the small isle that signifies nothing to him, wondering what it means. Perhaps the isle use to house an important structure, perhaps a lighthouse, although there are enough of those around in the vicinity now to warn any ship coming in any direction. But in the past, say before Mystery fused with Misery to become Mistery, maybe circumstances were different. A special kind of lighthouse. Another green lantern. I only say this because Giant Pety himself emits a bit of green at nighttime.

Maybe we’ll never know.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0213, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Outer Islands