Tag Archives: Emily New Moon^^+++++

May 5, 2025 · 6:50 pm

00460507

*Done* with the folding and done for the day, she thinks, sweat beading on her forehead from all the humidity around here because of the, well, *water* — over her 2 feet and up to 3-4 feet, pheh. *Now* what? she wonders. Back to *his* place?

“TOILET,” he calls from over the intercom, making her realize she had one more chore to accomplish before she could get paid. Orders of the big boss.

“Wolvie, closing up for the day!” Emily said in synchronicity with the video from somewhere beyond the cracked door, trying not to look in. She’s learned to deal with it.

“Just visiting the bathroom again and done!” he called back.

—–

“Cleaning, of course,” said Wheeler about same bathroom. “Not the other stuff. But still quite nasty, one could say. I believe you could put the big boss firmly in the sadist category. It all just got… out of control.”

“Nah, you’re okay, you’re good,” opined James Smoker, sitting across the bum camp fire from her, still holding and puffing on two cigarettes at once — while he could. “No need to crucify yourself over the matter,” he says, watching her “burn” through the fire. Like a witch. Or maybe a witcher, hmm. “This so-called Big Boss (*cough*): sounds like he’s just a butthead, a butt *period*,” he continued in his gravelly voice growing deeper and more gravelly by the year, the week. He hadn’t told her about the terminal thing. And he hadn’t revealed his true name. Not yet. So she just kept imagining him as James Smoker.

“Nice of you to say so,” says Wheeler. “But I’m afraid the whole town knows, the whole town looks down on me.” Still burning away inside a fire of her own devising.

“Those *Uptowners* might,” said James Smoker to this. “But us Downtowners… we stick together through thick and thin. Like bounded sticks.” He puts his two cigarettes together with his two hands to emphasize his point. Burny sticks, she understands — local nomenclature. If she burns, he burns; nice gesture from him.

So James S. considered her a Downtowner, she thought. Interesting. Even though she worked Uptown, lived Uptown. Maybe Willa Brown Halter is on the wrong side of the issue.

“What about *Mid*town?” she decided to ask, curious about the so-called neutral zone between the divisions, upper and lower. Where she was floored by Charlene that day of the town meeting and so had to pick herself up off the slanted pavement in order to attend.

“Center Core?” he responded, thinking of his primary reason for coming here to this Burg in the first place. To find a place where he could crawl into and die.

He decides to just blurt it out, the reason, the end point. Only crackles from the fire for a while after that.

(to be continued)

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April 19, 2025 · 8:46 pm

00460405

I took another day off to explore the town more. I’d taken a lot of days off lately. Perhaps I was already pretty bored with the mayor’s job, I don’t know. I found myself wandering… and wondering. Here I sit in Downtown’s subway station watching a train that never stops. Where is it going? Where’s it been? Never here apparently, or never gathered people here or dropped them off. I move on…

… to an abandoned petrol station, wandering and then wondering about the name Clyde on the window over there behind the tires. I knew the town was formerly called Blue Ball or Blue Balls so that didn’t seem to fit, despite the name Clyde being applied to a lot of towns across our fair country of America back in the day. Like one in Ohio where famed American author Sherwood Anderson grew up, along with U.S. independently affiliated senator and so-called father of the TVA George Norris and a couple of other famous people, including a Civil War Union general I can’t recall the name of.

I know, I’ll go ask Charlene. But maybe Emily would be a better target, having been here in The Burg longer. What’s her story, why did she move off the Makah Indian Reservation after being raised there? Something about Wolvie? — probably something about Wolvie. So that ropes in Charlene who’s the sister of what clearly is a shapeshifter in this here town, probably a werewolf by the sound of it. And he recognized me (!). In that service station with the black and white wolf poster over in Juho. I wonder how Newt is doing over there (her thoughts deflect). I wonder if he’s done anything with Newtonia since I’ve been… away.

That graffiti artist over yonder (she triangulates between useless subway and abandoned petrol station, a right one it appears). Maybe they will know something about Clyde. Worth a try.

She approaches, notices the cigarette in both his mouth and spraying hand at once. James Smoker he quickly becomes in her mind. Until she learns the truth.

(to be continued)

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April 19, 2025 · 7:43 am

00460404

She was already absorbed in preparing for another case with an appropriate upgrade of clothes for a richer client. “Goodbye Ms. Brown. Do you need Wanda to help you back to the teleporter?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks!”

—–

“And so that’s how the whole thing started, the whole investigation thing,” Charlene began wrapping up her story told at the Uptown Bakery after the town meeting, Downtown having no such establishment and thus no option for them to support fellow Downtown businesses in that way. But, then again, Uptown has nothing like Emily New Moon’s adult oriented video store or Charlene’s records store specializing in vintage vinyl. “Sending Wolvie potentially up the Big Creek,” she continued, “but, lucky for us, wink wink, only resulting in probationary work. With me, ha. Working on my film along with Roberts. With her encouragement, I’m upping the bigfoot debunking angle. She’s got some major players involved now, bringing in some big money. We could be looking at Hollywood box office hit, Emily. I’m talking major leagues, Cincinnati Reds stuff. No more Louisville Cardinals.”

“That’s sounds fabulous,” said Emily to her friend, her lover on odd nights of the calendar with Wolvie taken even and them taking turns with the first day of the month, those always being odd and so stacking the *odds* in Charlene’s favor. They worked it out in a way. And then there was the problem of the full moon for Wolvie. Speaking of which, there’s one tonight…

“You know Wolvie’s right,” Emily New Moon said to Charlene after a couple more bites of her donut, trying to frame the words correct in her head. “Bigfoot’s real. It’s (munch), common knowledge on the Makah Indian Reservation where I was raised. My Aunt Whistling Bark saw them, or at least heard them. She was just unloading her trash at the Sooes Creek Dump. Recorded the sounds on her phone even.” She pulls out her cell phone from a back pocket. “Here, I think I have them saved—”

“No need, Emily. I know they’re real.”

“You *do*? Then why act this way? Why accept, I mean, you’re being *persuaded* to debunk the… I mean, um.”

“I know what you mean. You just have to trust I have a plan. Like *you* have a plan for your Blue Moon Kentucky video tape. Paired pet projects we can call them. You have withheld secrets and so do I, wink wink.”

—–

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of town in its Park District, Wolvie locks himself in and prepares for the long night ahead.

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April 13, 2025 · 1:32 pm

00460317

Wheeler started to sit down beside Charlene and Emily in back but Willa Brown Halter instead waved her up front. She didn’t want the newly minted mayor to be seen with a *Downtown* Brown, hmph. Besides, she was up next. After Wolvie’s sentencing was over.

“What happened Madam Mayor?” Willa asked about her delay after she sat down beside her.

“Well, we fell in a plot hole,” Wheeler started another prepared joke. “Did I say plot hole? *Pot* hole I meant, as in one of Builder Bob’s diggings.” She glanced at him in the next bench over with his pipe still on shoulder.

“Funny,” said Willa. “But you’ve actually stumbled into your subject matter for the day. Infrastructure.” Funny indeed.

Then at the main stage:

“So,” said Judge Tronesisia (hi Tronesisia!). “You’re telling me, with your *bigfoot* costume on right now which you were caught in, that you didn’t put on this same costume and walk perpendicular through the Nawt Vaya tunnel walls while you also photographed yourself doing the same?”

“That’s right, my liege.”

“We have the photograph, I’ll remind you. *Proof*.”

No answer.

“Last chance to plead guilty,” warned Tronesisia.

Wolvie kept silent. As was his plan all along.

“What gives?” whispered Wheeler to Willa in the pause.

“Oh, this will wrap up soon enough,” Willa dismissed the whole hearing. “Just some *Downtowner* caught with his pants down again, ha.”

“Then I have no choice but to sentence you to *3 years*…” Gasps all around.

“… probationary work,” finished the judge, making another juicy dangler. Sighs all around now. Everyone seemed to like Wolvie and didn’t want any lengthy imprisonment to befall him. He was just trying to help out his kind, most thought. “You’ll tell kids about bigfoot,” Tronesisia further decreed, “maybe even participate in that film your sister Charlene The Punk Brown is making deriding the subject.” Charlene gives the judge a thumbs up from the back, just as happy as Willa was disappointed. Pants down, the latter thinks. Downtowner! How could they ignore the facts!

Wolvie leaves the courthouse room pants head down. But it was all play. He dare not look at the smile on his sister’s face lest he break out a big one too.

“Okay, Wheeler,” urged Willa. “You’re up. Get over there before the townspeople and belt out your plan to fix *infrastructure*.” Bob was so excited about the topic that he shifted his pipe from left to right shoulder. No more fun with holes, he thought punnily. Funds *for*.

“Aheemm,” she begins nervously, eyeing expectant Bob with his 12 foot pipe. “This is what I have in mind.”

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April 12, 2025 · 10:39 pm

00460314

They put her up in a motel across from City Hall where she’d be working most of the time. She took Electra’s room, who, being the former mayor of this here burg, had left the scene for parts unknown, perhaps back to her original home in the Sansara continent’s snowy region. She left behind an assortment of, here, little used shawls, coats, and toboggans in this much more temperate climate of middle southern Jeogeot, so hasty she was to get out of town. Disgraced (!). She didn’t even say goodbye to her kids Wolvie (originally: Bert) and Charlene, since she hadn’t been on real speaking terms with them since they started dating the same person. Wolvie she wasn’t as mad at. But *Charlene* — how dare she date a another girl. Now it became really dirty, this threesome. She wondered if they did it that way — all 3 together I mean. Emily had enough such tapes at her disposal that they could get ideas. In fact as she was thinking about it she’d bet money on it, perhaps up to 10.

Back to Wheeler and the present. We’ll deal with Electra and the consequences of leaving her children behind later. Right now there was only a bed in her room, a small dresser, a Gustav Klimt painting print called “The Dancer” from his late period, and that’s it. She logically wondered about closet space for her many clothes she’d recently bought on the marketplace, discount mind you, because you can find so many cheap there, especially older models (she doesn’t mind retro; thinks it’s got a strong future). Not living in the shadow of her locked-in-childhood looks daughter, she can experiment, mix and match blouses, skirts, and shoes and such. She’s kind of living the life, come to think of it. And all this mayor stuff is just for play. She’ll invite Newt over as soon as she fixes up the room to her standards. And then perhaps think about a larger occupancy for the both of them. If it comes to that. 1st “proper” date tomorrow beyond just the marriage and attached rendezvouses. Not ice cream this time but an actual meal in an actual, pretty upscale restaurant. More details very soon.

(to be continued)

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April 9, 2025 · 8:06 am

00460312

“There she is, Emily. The new mayor.”

“*Not* the same as the old mayor,” replied Emily, trying not to look behind her. It was hard. And what was all that butterfly, um, *gear* she was wearing? But it was just all part of her power. She couldn’t help asking aloud, though. She leans over, and says not far above a whisper: “Butterflies?”

“All part of the power; perks of the job,” responded Charlene. Knew it.

“Who would *want* that?” Still leaning, still just above a whisper.

“I hear ya. But…” she decides to say since they were leaning in to each other, being more secretive. “What about Wolvie?”

“What *about* Wolvie?” Emily says.

“You know, because he’s, ahem, the mayor’s son. Like I’m the mayor’s daughter. *Old* mayor. And *Shelley*.”

“Shelley’s not in this story,” shot back Emily New Moon, tired of hearing about the old. New is the thing now. And Wheeler fits right in, she thinks. She’s tired of the mother-daughter-son talk, the Unholy Triangle. Speaking of which…

—–

“I wish, Edward, that you’d be more sympathetic to my plight. I’m *married*.” Edward, her Ed, was in danger of fading away himself under her new butterfly power and he knew it. Wheeler had to disappear in order for him to even been seen atall in this setting. He had no other choice than to wait in the background, biding his time. At the backwards flowing waterfall.

(to be continued)

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April 8, 2025 · 9:34 pm

00460311 (3Ms)

“Are we keeping you up, Ms. Wilson?”

“Oh. *Sorry*.” Wheeler quickly moved her feet off the table, sat up straight. She realized she’d made perhaps a grave mistake falling asleep at the employment assessment meeting here in The Burg. But it was all part of the play, the fun and games. None of this really mattered except *as* in a play. “I’ve been, ahem, sleeping in my car lately,” she tried to excuse her pretend drowsiness. “After I left my last job.”

“And, let’s see, that’s as a maid, I see. Interesting job description. All sorts of tasks — laundering, ironing, vacuuming, window cleaning, in a, quote unquote, semi-aquatic setting? Can you explain further?”

Yes, it was a skybox partially filled with water. My 2 feet were always wet, she started the joke she’d prepared beforehand. Make that 3-4 feet since the water went that high, ha ha.”

Wanda Wilma Willa Brown Halter didn’t laugh or even smile. “I’ll just add to my notes: owner fetish,” which Wheeler knew would be pretty correct. She knew she was always being looked over. “So… why did you choose The Burg to come to after this, Ms. Wilson? Your old job was in the upper east central lower part of Nautilus, which is a virtual hemisphere away from here.”

“I have a friend here,” she lied or pretended. “Charlene Brown, er, just Charlene Brown. You may even be related. I couldn’t help noticing your Brown middle name on your card.”

“Charlene Brown and I are *not* related,” she returned quite firmly. Charlene was Downtown, she (Willa): Uptown. The two sets of townspeople which include the two sets of Browns try not to mix. Clean and Dirty was another way she thought of them. Ms. Wilson here, she thinks, seems to fall into the Downtown category too despite the maid cleaning background. She’d deduced, correctly, there was a dirty aspect to that too. Friends with Charlene who’s also friends with fellow Downtowner Emily New Moon the smut store manager — that also fits. Sounds like the pay was for *show*.

And this time, she did crack a smile. She thought of Wheeler Wilson’s leg tattoos as well, the blue and red fish making their way up the right one to who knows where. She imagines a homecoming fish bowl for the 2 on her stomach for some reason. Reinforcement of The Core.

The meeting ended with Willa determining the only job Wheeler was qualified for was the just vacated mayor’s position, highest actually being lowest in this here Burg. Straightening her hem so you couldn’t follow her fish too high, she sat up and (reluctantly?) shook Willa’s hand to seal the deal. Mayor Wheeler Malone Wilson she is. Again.

(to be continued)

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April 6, 2025 · 3:58 pm

00460309

It was like the old days for Wolvie (=Bert), staring at bamboo from the perfect spot 108 108 108, triply beautiful. Not Shelley any more doing her moves on the bamboo yoga mat but Wheeler, mother having reabsorbed the child in section one of this here current photo-novel, just this morning named for her. He’d seen her again last week at the convenience store he manages over near Juho. She knew that he knew and he knew that she knew. Then: winked out. Gone. Like she was never there. And perhaps she wasn’t (*knew* I was going to add that, didn’t you).

—–

“Wolvie’s gone. VHS tape still in there. Let’s just look at it. I want to know why Blue Moon wants to buy all existing copies so bad. How, aherm, *bad* could it be?”

“Double anal?” guessed Emily who didn’t even know if that was a thing. And I suppose she’d know, since she runs the store. So let’s say she was jesting.

“Could be at least double, as in 3some,” speculated Charlene further. Charlene the Punk. Not seen in these here photo-novels since (as I’m checking… checking…) 31 really, minus a cameo appearance or two. Pre-retirement, then. But we also know that Charlene is actually Fern in the past. Or another timeline — something. The two can be lined up and made as one is what I’m saying. If that, once more, is actually a “thing”.

They both crowded into the tiny viewing room meant for one, setting aside the chair to make space. Plus… well, neither wanted to sit in that chair now.

“It’s just static,” Charlene complained.

“Keep looking,” urged Emily, knowing secondary and then primary letters would form out of the nothingness. Because this was a special tape, very much so. I to E to T to L and done. You get your money’s worth.

“Yes, here they come.”

(to be continued)

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April 5, 2025 · 10:41 pm

00460307

“Hi Bob. I guess you *saw*.”

“Yup. Took her long enough to get here.”

“Tell me about it. How’re the pipe repairs going?”

“Slow too. Funds running out in town I guess you’ve heard. Mayor’s going to hold an emergency meeting next week.”

“Yeah I heard.” Of course she’s heard. She’s dating both the mayor’s daughter and mayor’s son at once. She gets gossip in both ears at night. But… she must make a decision soon. Which side of Mother’s ocean she likes to collect the shells from.

“Welp, better get back to it. While we have the money.”

“Right. Just going down to see Charlene. Be back in a moment. You try to do your work a little *quieter* out here, he he he.”

“Ho ho,” says Bob, starting to drill a 2″ bore hole in a sewer line. But she was serious. Please the f- be a little *quieter* out here, she begs internally. And… hurry the f- up with these repairs why don’t you. If funds are running out, shouldn’t you be doing double time out here? But maybe she’s not thinking straight because of the noise. Anyway…

“Byyye.”

—–

“Have you heard, Charlene?”

“About the town meeting? Sure sure. I’ll be there with bells on I suppose.”

“NO. *She* came.”

“She?”

“Yeah, you know. HER.”

“Umm… oh, you mean Blue Moon Kentucky the so called pop idol. Yeah she stopped in the shop here looking for the video store. But she couldn’t help checking out her section over there to see what I’d stocked before she left. Not much — just 1 album from her solo period. That’s the only stuff I can even stand from her. I think she was kind of wearing a bit of a scowl when she left, ha.”

“But, Charlene, the *plan*. She knows that I know and I know that she knows.”

“So you told her?”

“NOooo. It was just a look,” Emily tried to explain.

“A look,” Charlene said rather skeptically.

“Yeah. A look. She knows. I know.”

“Hmm.”

(to be continued)

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April 4, 2025 · 4:57 am

00460306

There she f-ing is in the flesh ha, thinks Emily New Moon at her counter beside the static filled TV. She likes to have it on with the sound turned at least low just to help drown out the city noise outside. Sometimes it’s bad out there, sometimes not so much. But she likes to keep it on anyway, just in case.

She rehearses her lines as Blue Moon mills around, trying to seem interested in the other tapes. But she only wants the one, she knew. 49 of 50 she has already. And she’s tracked down the 50th and last to this town, this store most likely, since it’s the only video rental one in this population place merely known as The Burg. Here: Downtown, its seedier side. Up there where it’s quieter most of the time: Uptown, where Emily *wished* she worked. But L.A. won the job at the ice cream vendor over her because she’d presented some papers at some national art conference or another, didn’t matter. *She’s* written things too. Just not published or presented stuff. Blue Moon milling about over there trying to seem distracted will know one day too, she thinks while continuing to observe and mentally rehearse. “‘Blue *Balls* Kentucky’, hmm — interesting — let me see,” and she’ll pretend to type the name into her database, pretend to look at results, pretend that the tape isn’t on the list. Blue Moon’s one and only porno, 50 copies extant. She has 49. But dammit if Emily *New* Moon is going to let her have 50. The blue fades to black right here in this town, this store. She’ll reach a dead end and it’ll nag at her the rest of her short lived days, Emily thinks with some satisfaction. Because she knows it’s worth a gold mine. And she, as it turned out, has cornered the market, ha ha ha. He he. Ho.

Here she comes. Steel yourself, Emily! You’ll be as famous as her soon, maybe even bigger than her — no need to be daunted. New Moon rising.

“I-I’d like to inquire about a tape,” she begins rather timidly. Like she doesn’t belong there. And she doesn’t, thinks Emily. Neither of us.

“Name?” she say as matter-of-factly as possible given the moment.

(to be continued)

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