Tag Archives: CLYDE

Man in Cash

“Maybe the flag with the black spider on it makes people nervous.”
–Young Greti, Sound of Music

The more modern German colors of red, yellow, were fading fast, leaving only Black. Johnny Black, formerly known as Axis but changing his name for obvious reasons; same for his dog Swastika who goes by Spider now (thanks Greti!).

He also finds a substantial amount of money has been deposited in his bank account for some reason (goes with the new name, actually) and acts quickly to purchase this out-of-the-way, sans-indoor-plumbing shack he’s had his eyes on for a while. Center or near the center of some kind of Paper-Soap psychic anomaly, at least one time. He’s eager to try to resurrect, and he thinks he knows how.

He’s also gained 6 inches of height after, ahem, opening the box. It’s actually a different core I’m working with here, *not* Baker Bloch. A more suitable companion to Wheeler Wilson, a kind of reflection really. Sometimes also goes by Wilson Wheeler just to confuse and conflate the two even more. I suppose a comparison with notorious Real Life crinimals Bonnie and Clyde is not out of order either, especially given the involved women’s matching caps. Bonnie could have been an inspiration for Wheeler, along with Prince and his Raspberry Girl of course.

Newt’s also queerly acquired pointy ears in the transformation, like Spock. Best to get a hat soon as well.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0603, Paper Soap, Soap, 0034

00340208

Before the shooting day, Wheeler explained to Sugar her motivation for running her shack out in the center of nowhere. “It’s about the citizens and denizens of these woods,” she indicated, “the fresh pies you can harvest from the pecan and apple and cherry trees about this time of year and how pleased they are that you can bring such joy into their otherwise rather empty lives by filling them with your, erm, lovingly prepared food.”

“I think I get it,” she says in her not near as deep enough voice. Wheeler tells her she needs to change it before Donald shows up and the cameras switch on. “How’s this,” she tried again almost an octave lower.

“Better. Keep practicing. We have an hour.”

—–

7 o’clock. Donald is preparing pancakes and muffins wearing only a thong; his duck costume hadn’t come back from the cleaners yet. Ace the Gopher was assigned to run over there and check on its status. Yet the cameras were rolling. “We can add the costume to this particular scene post-production,” explained CGI specialist Forrest Ferment. “The cost will be low as long as he stays perfectly still or almost so.” As the scene basically demanded, lucky for them. Sugar had just popped several of her freshly plucked pies into the pre-heated oven and took the opportunity for a break. This is where the dialog begins. Donald to her side was engrossed in recipe reading. “Stay that way,” guest director Wheeler said, filling in for a sick Baker. “Just cut the 2 places where you whisk and beat.” Baker would not be happy later when she reviewed the day’s reels in her bed. “Movement,” she complained. “Keep the eye engaged and moving. That’s what the whisking is there for, that’s what the beating is in place for.” Then Donald’s costume shows up from Clyde’s and everything is back to normal. Time for the denizens and citizens of these here woods to wake up and smell the coffee, namely Sugar’s patented cinnamon recipe with a dash of nutmeg and a pinch of coconut. Nostrils flare, bedroom slippers are slipped on. Soon all will be here, ready for their pancakes and whatnot. Center of Woods stirs to life.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0208, Big Woods, Jeogeot

00340112

“Hello Jupiter.”

“Hellow Howward,” Jupiter the Savage returned in a deep voice, not breaking his pace.

“Never mind me,” he called after him about his current situation with the grocery cart and all. “Just doing a thing for a person, heh heh.”

—–

John exited the grocery store with his egg and his other egg at 07:15, bound to return to his underground apt. to devour one of the two and have the other stolen by his amoral and unfaithful girlfriend Peg, but for a particular reason. He was trying to balance karma because he stole an egg from Jake only yesterday while he had his back turned, looking for an old videotape to play in his just set up antique VCR. He enjoyed it so much that he had to run to the store to get another. Back to the egg. The sky spit lightning when John went out later to the grocery store, having finished the 2 videos with Jake that he had owned and then bought at the video store next to the grocery store. In combo with the earth shaking thunder, John knew he did wrong by now, and that some curse was in effect. Like what happened day before yesterday when he paid a visit to Martha.

Martha was one of the uncloned people in town. In fact, that’s how you could tell them from the rest. Almost all the names of the clones, besides Clyde, started with either a J or a P. The non-clones: M or R. Martha, a seer, was going to tell him how to find a plot for his current comic book he was writing, or so she promised. He was almost done and still there was none. The art was amazing, impeccable even. Yet when the main character talked (or squawked), nothing really meaningful came out of his beak. Martha said, “You must bring your protagonist to life, bring him into *this* world.” “Virtual reality?” John queried. “Yesss,” came the answer. She studied the cartoon book he had brought with him further. “This wo-man protagonist, I’m assuming, with the googly eyes…” John peered over at the page the old seer was viewing, not immediately knowing what she was talking about. “Oh,” he said, seeing the error. “That’s not googly eyes. That’s a censor sticker. This is the one the publisher wants me to show people before the R version is actually released. So those googly eyes, as you call them, are covering up… see?” John ripped off the bandage.

Lightning struck, thunder sounded. And now it was happening again. Bit actor Howard Hector Duck had shown up in a grocery cart outside a supermarket in the virtual village of Ontario off the coast of Maebaleia in the eastern hemisphere of Our Second Lyfe. Playing the role of Hector Herbert.

“Hey bud!” he called after John L. Brown, going the wrong way out of the store with his eggs. “Over here!”

“Oh *dear*,” he muttered when turning around, dropping one of the two in the shock and invoking karma again, SPLAT. One of his eyes was gone. After John had his remaining egg stolen by Peg later that night it popped back out again, good as new to the relief of both.

(I’m not sure this can be continued, ha)

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alchemy

“Lord, lord. Lord lord lord lord lord.” She shook her head as she uttered. She looked down into her coffee which wasn’t steaming any longer, meeting stretched beyond expected. Yet Newt had forgotten about the parking meter and the need to feed past 8. Too much had happened. Clyde! It’s back! The impossibly loud sound of horseless carriages transfixed. He was almost there; just up there. He could reach into the screen and probably procure some kind of souvenir or relic to bring back to the others: Fern, Lichen… and the one who most figured in as the cause, the one who was red, the one with the awkwardly long gams (she thought), the multicolored tree on the back and the fox and the octopus up front, black and white zebra’s eyes formerly x’d shut but now wide open. He can hear, he can see. He *must* get married after this. He knows too much.

Lichen went over and exchanged wigs with her. “See?” she said, returning to her seat, spell intact.

“See?” prefigured Fern and then also leaned over and exchanged her hair with Alysha’s. “Doesn’t matter.”

It was 9 before Newt got back to the car with the inevitable ticket attached to the passenger window. “Zero strikes again,” he muttered and then crumpled it up and threw it in the gutter, knowing the thing was now worthless. Nothing mattered in this Squared Root City in this most virtual of realities. Except 3.16227766. Let’s shorten it down to 3 so we can move on…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0317, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Squared Root City

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”!

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

wrapping up a long year…

“They just watched her disappear down into the hole,” he reported in a low, yelping voice, “like they figured she’d be okay on her own.”

“The lady in the red dress?” questioned the other, too lazy to rise up off the ground beside Fox to witness the spectacle himself. But we happen to know it’s Greg Ogden, painter of the Paper sim Monolith and some other stuff. Maybe this stuff — later on.

“No,” corrected Fox. “She’s already gone. Palace in De Skies. Or so the script says, the blue one I believe. Unless it’s red too. White? Let’s split the difference and say it’s white,” he completes, ears twitching with the possibilities. “This one was just a kid.”

Greg Ogden sighs, already tired of the new year. He knew a kid, a mere babe, would be involved but now the issue had been raised he didn’t care. “And the others,” he continued wearily, “this Marion Star Harding and Philip Strevor I’ve been told? The Well Well Well brothers.”

“Weellll.” STOP

—–

START “You have been told correctly. Still sitting there these two. Maybe waiting for some kind of MIRACLE, like in ’69.” But Fox then remembers he wasn’t suppose to talk about that. Not since ’96.

Night fell and everything flipped over, black becoming white and white black.The fire was burning down down down. Soon they knew she would not return. “Give me til midnight,” she requested before the descent and subsequent ascent. White Palace? We’ll see. “If I’m not back by 2022 you can give up on me. I will have failed in my mission to find Clyde.”

Philip checked the watch that wasn’t on his wrist. “11:15 — time is running out. What the f– is taking her so long, Marion? It’s like she found a newspaper up there and is reading it back to front.” Philip was oh so close with this jest. Downloading information was indeed the crux of the situation.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0706, Corsica, Splinterwood^

102 year war

Sorry SA, but Clyde, like an elephant, doesn’t forget that easily.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0703, MAPS, Ohio

Maria von trapped.

“I remember the circle squared, Hucka. Can I call you Hucka without the D? Or Doobie?”

“Call me whatever you like. Fred if you wish.” Hucka D. looked around at the same old place. The Old Same Place.

“That would, I suppose, be looking at the bell from below.” He peered at the old photo, then switched it back to Nautilus, the present square and circle combined. Gordie Down’s head blinked off, as if he’d fallen asleep. Wee Norris on his shoulders came around the bend like on a carousel and took over. “So here we are.”

“Fountain,” Hucka D. corrected after giving it some thought. “1/2 and 1/2, though, although we aren’t suppose to talk about that.”

“Limit saying that, yes,” Baker Bloch understood. So many 12 Oz Mouse references in their talkings, like it was the center of the Universe and not Clyde. But everyone knew it was Clyde. Trouble is, no one could get there to see what it was like, not even Gordie Down, although he continually reads about it dawn to dusk and dawn to dusk. Billie Jean Kidd dreams about it as well: a wanted paradise of sorts for her. Add in NORRIS and you get a 40 year stretch of history, not 20, a 2 fer 1 kind of deal-i-o or sumtin. That was the secret of Wheeler on top of Wilson. And Wilson on Wheeler – 1/2 and 1/2 again.

“Baker,” Hucka D. interrupted my reverie, as she was suppose to do here. “I… have to go.”

“Wee wee,” but he didn’t mean yes yes. Okay, 1/2 and 1/2. STOP

GO “I’m back. Someone needs to clean up in there.”

“Last owners,” I clarified. “It was as if the filth was baked in back there in the shadows, the darkness. Same in the bedroom.” But Baker Bloch knew he wasn’t suppose to talk about that room. Keep with the bath.

“There’s tiles out in the shower — I pulled back the curtain — couldn’t help it; saw the outline of something through the curtain. You need to fix that Baker B. And the fence. Neighbors are talking. People beyond the veil are talking, like [delete name]. How are you going to find Ancient Clyde in all its black and white glory with its horsed and horseless carriages if you can’t even manage the present (situation), hmm?”

He, I mean, she had a point (*scroll*). She gets up then down and points to the one with the stinger beside masked Gene Fade. “This is me.”

In a whale of a position, a tree grows out of Newt’s head.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0702, Herman Park, Nautilus, Paper, Paper Soap, Wealthy Mountain

lost childhood

Todd A. was next. We center the picture in the middle of the triangles sort of framing his head. He is like an infinite game of roshambo, hand on top of hand on top of hand. Pact with the Devil. Atomic Suicide. Todd A. was smart, management being his specific, chief skill, to add to the others’ two. Todd A. knew a lot about triangles and how they fit together. He went over to Billie Jean Kidd down the bar, recognizing talent when he saw it.

“That’s some kind of balancing act you got going on there.”

“Thank you. I also do cards.”

“Well…” He rubbed her head playfully, like an adult to a kid. Which she isn’t of course. She let the gesture go, knowing that Todd A. was old fashioned in that way. Because she knew who he was, even if he didn’t know her. She could see into the past present future. She knew this guy with his infinite seeing mind was trouble in a bottle, troubled water without a bridge, just blub blub blub. He later turned into an alcoholic to match his drowning mind. 1/8th of the brain cells gone, then 1/6th. Soon he would not be able to manage a diverse collection of bugs drawn together through a common plant.

“… aren’t you the clever one,” he finished, and sat down beside her, relighting his cigar. Billie Jean Kidd was use to cigars, being a stogie toking man in the assignment before last before last, the first without Philip and Marion. She had to admit to the new partner, a chain toting robot dominatrix, that she kind of missed them. “They were like… totally inept dads.” “Gay?” the mechanoid questioned back. “Hard to tell,” came the answer. “Extremely close *pals* at the least.” If only they didn’t bring out the worst in each other, all 3 of them together, she then bemoaned. It could have worked, perhaps. If only their promised Clyde was real.

—–

“We better get you out of here, child,” spoke Todd A., seeing the warm up act appear on stage and knowing Certain Death was not far behind.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0406, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

arrival 01

“This is not ideal, Philip Dilip.”

“I know, I know,” he gruffly relented. “It’s all we could afford. Rent here is out the roof!”

“You said something about Clyde. Where is Clyde?” Billy Jean Kidd puts her hands on her hips for emphasis. This was important!

“Um, well, let’s just go meet Marion Harding over at that Vineyard he found yesterday.”

“Vineyard *cafe*,” Billy Jean Kidd corrected, still in a steam. “I could use some coffee. This heroin is beginning to wear off.”

“Well, we had to give you *something* for the trip. And to prepare you for, well, *this*.” He indicates toward the cottage he’d rented just several days back. Their new home: he and the Kidd and Marion. The kid who wasn’t really a kid atall. So the drug part is totally legit, at least in Caledonia. I’ll have to check the local laws on drug use before the 3 settle in. All heavy imbibers they are, Marion with his pot, Philip his pills, and Billy Jean, well, she’s the worst of the 3 now. Old souls can falter in that manner.

“Coffee!” The Kidd begins to stomp in place on the melting snow. “Coffee, coffee, coffee!” She was having a caffeine conniption.

—–

“It’s so laggy here, Philip, Kidd.”

“It’s the beginning of the end,” states Billy Jean plainly. “And where’s my *coffee*?”

“In a minute, babe,” spoke Marion, smooth and gangsterly as always. “Just gotta knock the edge off this pot with some wine. Then we’ll shift — over.”

“Wine, beer, booze, drugs, cigarettes.” It’s all we do any more. It’s like we don’t *exist*.”

Philip and Marion try to absorb the impact of this statement. “*Clyde*” Billy Jean harshly interrupted their ruminations. “The *reason* for the *being*.”

Marion finally thought to take another sip of wine. Buzz was strong this afternoon. Blur the higher regions a bit, the parts he’s not suppose to know yet. The blue above the red. Red wine, blue pot, hmmm. He drinks deeper. Must return to red.

“Well I for one am going to get some sugar… donuts hopefully. Take the bite out of these barbiturates I’m on currently.” Philip scoots his chair back and gets up to go to the other side, across the wooden swing bridge. The side of the cafe that has the coffee. And the pastries.

Marion then stares at The Kidd, who stares back. “You don’t… really like me do you,” Marion states, seeing the hatred in her eyes.

“No, I don’t really like you Marion Star Harding. Not at the moment, anyway.” But Marion thought it went on longer than that. Through eternity, maybe, but that was the blue beyond the red again. ‘Nother sip of wine. Oh… he realized, she just wants some coffee. And I’m here, taking my time, drinking my wine. Slooowly.

“Oh… I see,” he spoke aloud. “You want…”

“Duh,” she interrupted. “Are you through with the wine?” She pauses a beat. “How about now?”

“Listen, doll… kid. We’re here to show you something, Philip and me. There’s something special about this place. It’s not… just about getting away from Caledonia. It’s *fate*.” Marion ends here.

“It’s fate *what*?”

“The, er, Oracle.” He decided just to blurt it out. “It’s in the other side. The pastry part.”

“Well,” states Billy Jean Kidd, unimpressed. “Down the rest of that precious wine and we’ll head over there. Join Philip in his sugar binging. It will probably be cocaine after that. Usually is after sweets. We may have a clear spot between…” — she checks her watch which she actually isn’t wearing — “… between 5:30 and 5:45. That gives us 15 minutes to make some actual sense to each other. Not red… blue… black… yellow. I need some coffee, I need some drugs. We’ll actually *talk* to each other. Like a regular family.” Billy Jean Kidd thinks again how she desires a normal family, not necesarrily a father and a mother instead of 2 fathers — pseudo-fathers. Just… normal. White picket fences, red apple pies, blue skies, green trees, yellow dress — well, she has that… but the rest. She so wants it. And she thought this mythical Clyde might supply it.

Marion finally remembers to drink the wine again. And that they need to get to the other side. He stands up, a little wobbly but then steady (as she goes).

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