“Maybe it just means Monkey City, Jeffrey.”
“Means,” he replies.
“Dum de *dum* de *dum*.” Riiiiinnnng. “Oh dear.” Riiiiiiiinnnng. “That’s the phone.”
“Over… *there*.” Riiinnng.
“Over where, honey?”
“On the wall.” Riiinnnng. “Just over… *there*.”
“The wall… the phone on the wall?”
Riiinnnng. “Yes. Don’t you remember. The phone… on the wall.”
“The *pay phone*? The one that hadn’t worked for 20 years?” Rinnnnng.
“Yes. I think. Go check. I’m scared. I’ll be back in my room.” Riinnng.
She was so happy just seconds before. Now the world seemed to be ending.
Riinnnng. Herbert Glenn Gold walks over, answers the phone. Riinnnn– “Hello?”
“You have become old, Stefan.”
“No… not old. I can still rock.”
“You are a classical man through and through now. Get up out of the rocker. You cannot rock any longer. You are an old man. You…”
“Pansy,” he said, trying to reassure. “I acquiesce.” Old Stefan steps away from the DJ equipment and the dance floor as a whole, walks outside, stands in the flower bed.
It almost ended just off the mountain today but not quite; held it in. Back on the mountain tonight with Tessa (safety). “Don’t go past the Easter Island head,” the owner requested, and so she didn’t. But this allowed her to explore Bridge Town on *this* side of the gulf. As long as she didn’t cross the bridge, the one I *barely* made it back across, pheh. But should I have?
Maybe I should name this side of the small burg Necksity or Neck City but I’ll go with Fryburg. Because it is *actually* owned by a Frye, who I’m going to change to Fry, along with that small cemetery on the side of the RL mountain that Lisa the V. probably owns as well, along with Rich. Rich = snowy peak? It’s all coming to a head. In some fashion.
Tessa explores Fryburg — again, she is allowed this because it still lies on the mountain with the butterfly themed tree house.
It would be logical, I suppose, to find Fisher within, since Fisher is the same as Fry in the big picture, and also Fisher, as you may or may not recall (probably not) is *married* to Lisa the Vegetarian. All that drama happened in photo-novel 10. I thought 9-10-11 would cover the Omega continent, and we wouldn’t have to return for any length of time. I seemed to have been wrong. This mountain is important. Frys — all dead at age 65 or earlier. All living now on that mountain which was a blessing. And an impossible mid-winter sun flower just outside the cemetery indicating Lisa’s presence. How beautiful!
A bright idea comes to Tessa as she looks around. One of these, er, airships could be the way she’s suppose to escape the mountain. How about that largest one, that piece of steampunk *junk* over there. She’s good with Grandpa’s narrowboat, which is now hers (if she can make it back home). Maybe she can fix up this old thing to make it run properly.
Fisher within wondered how long it would take Tessa to figure it out. If she has half the brains that his wife did: not long. And so it came to pass that Fisher and Tessa soon made off for parts unknown, but not for at least several more posts. Probable destination: Castle Town, to meet up with the transmogrified Barry De Boy.
(to be continued)
She was told not to leave the mountain she was on. “Don’t go past the Easter Island head,” her half-sister rather commanded on the phone yesterday, knowing the Fall of Man lies all around. They chatted about mom. They chatted about… Bart. “On the lam,” Lisa states, acknowledging her fears. Never got over the Great Black Swamp. “Beware the Wheelers!”, then, “Beware Wheelers!” Or was it “Heelers”? — she couldn’t remember. All she knows currently is that Bart is in the swamp without the ability to TILE, to come back to the flock and rejoin his sister. She recalls the day her grandfather — poor grandad! — told her about the experiments, one that went right (sister) and the other which went wonky (brother). “The sister will be a good companion for you in future times of trouble,” he stated, listening to the ever-present sound of whales, which of course she heard as well but thought they were sharks. “She is older, she is wiser. You will see her every now and then and that is good enough. I’m estranged from Marg, and she’s blocked the visiting rights. But when the time comes, Lisa will make herself known to you. Bart as well, but: Beware Bart. He will be possessed by the Great Black Swamp by that time. The Soothsayer speaks.”
And so now she’s closer to her half-sister than ever, who rescued her from a sticky situation indeed. Kicked out of Green Yarn, a thought of new home where she could examine the whole Ray (short for Rainey) phenomenon in full and the inclusive 2 Barrys, who may be just one Barry now. Heck, Ray and Barry may be the same — the name of the former is included in the latter, after all.
But back to the half-sister…
(to be continued)
It was still snowing profusely. Tessa was almost up to her knees in it. She stares at the setting (rising?) sun and wonders what star it is. Arcturus? Could she be home again? No, she realized. Too yellow. Arcturus is an orange giant.
Or was it Aldebaran?
According to her sensors, someone named Sunny who was also a star stood in the shack at the end of the pier over there. She also had a number: 7. She might know. But grandpa always told Tessa not to approach strangers in Our Second Lyfe without good reason. Was this a good reason? And was this even still Our Second Lyfe, a shared virtual reality that is real to us permanently inhabited avatars?
And as I was typing this, Sunnystar7 disappeared, leaving only boomboom 2020 in the sim with her. Well, there was certainly a lot of boom boom last night at the (baker b.) house in reality reality. In bed by 11 but woken up at 12 as the boom booms persisted until 12:30. But what is time in a pandemic. Hard to keep track of the days, with weeks and months ahead. Forget time. Forget them all, even years. 2020 can go to boom boom hell for all she cares. She lost her beloved grandfather!
(to be continued)
“Did you find her yet, my little, precious Herbert Glenn Gold down at my feet?”
“I… suppose you mean Tessa,” he said up with a markedly weaker voice than Parasol’s. “I… *know* you mean..”
“You’re stalling,” Parasol declared down toward her other feet. The ones of the Rainbow Butterfly; Pickle I’ve called it in this here blog and attached photo-novel, about to be closed up for a day or three. Just to be complete, Parasol is also the same as Witch Hazel, but she must make a choice first. That of red (service to self). Blue would be better, and so she keeps pressing. The girl must be found, she rationalizes. *Then* I can decide which way to flip! This seemed to be an error of thinking. Herbert Glenn Gold was about to pass through her legs and leave, she sensed. He had had enough of abuses; had to put up with a lot of this with his then wife April Mae Flowers. Former: because he was dead now. She decided to use this angle to create a save.
“Would you like me to tell you how you died? Would you wish now to know how you got *here*?” The fiery Golden Sphere beside them spun on without noise. There was no air yet they talk.
Herbert Glenn Gold pondered again whether he wanted to know this. Would it help? He decided before, in the long run, it wouldn’t. He would still be taking the psychological pictures wherever he went. The portal could not be sealed back up. He affirms this to Parasol above him. He knew she was somehow responsible for him. It was a weird relationship, with many incarnations. Father, mother, brother, sister, wife, husband, uncle, aunt, so on. But for now it was more perhaps a mother-son relationship, with he being the son. Gold, like the.
“*Herbert*,” she interrupted his reverie. “I need the girl.”
END OF “SUNKLANDS 2020-2021 WINTER” PART 1!
“Brrrr. Cold down at the beach. I think I’ll stay right here in front of this fire for a while, brother of mine.”
Kick-Ass Boos, unlike his brother, didn’t have cold feet, although they were bare. He’d given up his shoes just a minute before. He didn’t want to reveal too much too soon. Instead: “Well… what do you think about this town, village, community, whatever? This…” Kick-Ass Boos couldn’t remember the name all of a sudden, like it had been yanked from his memory by a falsity of time.
Kick-Ass Bogota kept warming his hands while chatting about the subject. “It’s okay, I guess. I like the swimming pool. I like the blues bar here. Something to do at night! And the game room, of course. We’ll head up there next — check it out.”
“The mountains and that pretty lake too.” ALERT
“Yes, that too,” the brother agreed. He drew back from the fire, toasty for the moment. “Whatever, we *can’t* go back to Black Ice. Evicted.”
“Yeah. Plus Elberta is gone from town too. What’s the point of staying on.”
Thinking about their old, common girlfriend, Kick-Ass Bogota glanced away from the fire at his brother, traditional rivalries stoked along with attached suspicions. He recalled a different name. “Who exactly recommended this place to you again?”
“Oh just a friend,” Kick-Ass Boos quickly answered, not wanting an awkward gap. “He likes the blues; he knew this place.”
“A blues friend,” Kick-Ass Bogota said, returning his hands toward the fire.
Good one, thought Kick-Ass Boos. Very close, except it was only one blues. Blue, then. And the friend was… *Darn*. Can’t remember again.
Tickie walked through the door. “*There* you are.”
Kick-Ass Bogota swung around. Gig is up, Kick-Ass Boos realized.
“How’d you get down here so fast? And what is that blue costume you’re wearing?”
“You’re… the *blues* friend,” Kick-Ass Bogota guessed correctly. Or blue *friends*, he thought while looking from one to the other, still not seeing his brother’s true face because of the bag.
15 minutes later, the Undertaker stood in the flower garden on the side of the house, taking pictures.
The next morning, Tickie finally caught up with Jeffrie Phillips, who was scared out of his wits at the events of the night before, damaged beyond repair even.
In the weakness and as a cure, Tickie *merged* with Jeffrie to become something else, unafraid of fear. A new superhero but hopefully not supervillian. Blue Thorn, perhaps the Blue Rose Thorn but with the Rose dropped because of fear of copyright infringement (see: Santman).
Blue Thorn looks around with new eyes for both, sensing that Knob Noster was not here in the Inbetweenland. Never mind Mr. Platinum/Operator/Undertaker/Zero Hero, because he was a different animal altogether. Blue Thorn could change back into Jeffrie Phillips (and Tickie, I suppose) after he had nabbed the similarly blue beast and brought him (or her) back home to mama (Charlene Brown the punk, who we know now is a type of bigfoot *herself*) for detailed study. She could finish her cryptozoology dissertation that way. She could become a doctor herself. Maybe then Jeffrie could find a way to finish off the other doctor he knew well, the one who could turn into a mouse (Pansy). It was all coming together if it wasn’t all falling apart. And actually it was both. The Blue Thorn stepped forward away from the now closed portal into the past.
It was in the 4th valley, or perhaps it was the 5th, that Jeffrie Phillips actually found something solid and concrete and pertinent to his mission. He kept staring at that tree in front of the rock wall: something wasn’t quite right here. A cave! he intuited with his enhancing Pan-Z mind conditioning. But hidden — someone or something is doing the hiding and he’s going to find out. This is where he will camp. Too bad about Sammie, he laments again, not knowing her ill fate. He was luckier than Tickie in that way. One ambulance turned into two as the night went on. Jeffrie heard them, but the sirens blended in so well with the distant whale songs that he couldn’t tell one from the other. Ah yes, those whales, confirming he was a lala. Tessa Doom came to him in a dream that night, a dream so real that it could be Earth, like New York but in the past.
At 2:01 am, in the middle of the dream, the portal opened.