“We’ll figure it out, Axis, er, Tropp. Umm.” He was truly stuck in the middle and 1/2 and 1/2 (sorry!).
Tag Archives: Hidi^^~~~~~
It was a short vacation for Hidi but meaningful. She reconnected with her past: bruisers Delbert, Filburt and the rest. But she was back now in The City, and boyfriend-husband Axis and she had had a wonderful evening just staying in the room and, afterwards, strolling down the westward facing beach in the morning and enjoying a beautiful, forced sunset over the ocean waves.
No, he preferred to go by Opp now. Tropp, actually. True Opp — 1/2 and 1/2 (dang!). And she: well, we’ll get to that soon enough. She created him in effect, a reversed Adam to her Eve. The Apple had been, um, turned inside out.
Anyway, she’d learned something at the beach. A Mercury capsule like astronaut John Glenn use to pilot bobs all abandoned and shite out in Neptune’s Bay, but then when you walk just north past the Neptune sim you reach a property called Mercury Rising, like the sun was rising on the couple at the point where she discovered this coincidence. If it is coincidence. And all those celestial bodies (!): Sun, Mercury, Neptune. Tropp sometimes quips she has a celestial body, ha. Not last night — that would be too weird or obvious I suppose — but sometimes still.
She needs to check her horoscope to see if something is resonant there. Let’s see, Mercury rising. That’s easy. And the sun with it, but also in forced opposition to it (forced sunset instead of natural sunrise to enhance the effect of the walk). And Neptune in the, er, adjacent sim — that must be a neighboring zodiac sign.
She thinks back to an astrologer (name?) who told Hidi about what she felt at the time was a forced association between her birth horoscope and the positions of towns in an Ohio county bordering the Great Black Swamp back in the days. Importantly, Neptune is the only town that is named in the association. The rest of the planet-towns are, or were, inferred. She has the notes somewhere in her filing cabinet downstairs in her actual apartment. This is just a room she and Opp used. For reunion purposes. She decides to check out and head home. Actually, that’s just a figure of speech, for the place has been locked up for weeks. Hidi and Tropp just like the view of the beach and beyond from that large, paneled window; the couple is big on scenery and enhancing it in ways they can if possible. Forced sunrise here, forced full moon there, extra lighting in a darkened alley, so on. But Mercury rising… she must go back to that beach to scout out the place. The owner said in his property description that visitors are welcome. No forcing action there at least.
She lathers sunscreen over her oh so pale face
and hands and heads out.
Ahh yes. The Mercury capsule is labelled a *hideout* by the owner. Just like she had been hiding out over in Gaston and just returned. She sits only a bit beyond the border of Neptune on a sand dune in Mercury Rising and thinks about Ohio. Then when she recrosses into Neptune from Mercury Rising she is able to sit in the abandoned capsule. Interesting. Another true hideout (!). True Opp, true hideout. Hidi.
A map charting celestial bodies on a pillow inside; the whole thing is owned by a person from Consignment. Consignment shop! The plot thickens as they say. Better gather up Tropp and hand over there. If this capsule is truly cursed he needs to be in on it.
“Been a while since you’ve been here Hidi. Who you hiding away from now?”
“Oh, the same.”
“Where’d you like to go today? I believe the trailer park is new since you last stayed with us.” Zack Black himself lived in the trailer park now, the residents of which complain all the time about his loud playing of Firesign Theater and The Residents. Eyeballed beings both.
“That sounds good. To begin.” Off they went.
“Helloooo boys. Seen any dead hookers lately?”
“Hidi Widi, as I breathe and stink.”
“Delbert,” she addressed the stockier bruiser who just talked. “Filburt”, she said to the other. “Smells like a hot piece of coal in here.”
“Yeah, mom’s cooking up some rust for din din,” spat out Delbert.
“*Your* mum,” corrected Filburt. “*My* great great grandmum.” He turned to Hidi. “We both look the same age, yeah? We ain’t.” Filburt was very vain about his youthful looks and trimmer waist.
“How old are you?” Hidi was truly curious. She guessed 60 but it could be 20 the way he talked.
“40.” Split the difference, yeah. She should have bet him on it.
“Forty-*two*,” also answered the other: Delbert. The stockier one with a beard that would make alternate Spock envious. But people round here wouldn’t understand that reference, since Star Trek wasn’t invented until sometime in the 1800’s. In contrast, Star Wars was all the rage, with 16 talkie movies so far to follow the 7 silent ones. The ones no one talks about any more. Charlie Chaplin as Yoyo (or Dada) and Buster Keaton as Chewbacco. Mary Pickford as Princess Leida, the role that made her famous for a while. Until she opened her mouth for the camera and tin came out instead of gold. She was great to look at but that voice. Gene Emmett Kelly the dancing clown dumped her for another with a golden voice to match at least a silver look. Not quite Pickford but close enough. And no tin or lead spewing from her lips.
(to be continued?)
Goodbye Ant Castle at the end of Eleph’s Trunk. I feel like I hardly knew ya.
The only related castle remaining on The Trunk is Harrison Ford Jett’s, whose enhancing apples were recently mentioned in relation to a city crime. The City now. But was he suspected perpetrator or victim in a series of 4? And is he truly a man or a woman? Perhaps it doesn’t matter; let’s go with it doesn’t matter.
“Sure you can stay with me, Ant. Until you get your 6 feet back on the ground.”
That taken care of, let’s move back to The City and the Happy Travels Travel Agency…
“Hellloooo. I’m ready to go on vacation. Hide away again.” It was typical of Hidi to do so; in her genes, one could say. Speaking of which…
Wheeler was called in to move some 88’s and decided to have a chat with Barry while she was at his studio. “How’d the meeting go with Warhole?” she asked to begin. “I heard Ant and Harrison Jett were also there. Something about murder?”
“No,” defended Barry, not worried about his blood stained hands in the moment, although he reflexively crossed his arms to hide them.
“No, everything was lovely,” he continued. “Warhole and I were bickering a bit when Ant and Harry showed up.”
“Yeah, that’s what Ant called him all the time. Anyway, *they* started bickering with each other and then we started looking around, all four of us, and begin laughing. First a ha, then a ho ho, then a hu hu hu, then a full out he he he he for all. Graham then served some kind of regional soup for us and then everyone said ‘hi’ to end, kind of like aloha.”
“Graham? Who’s that?” continued Wheeler with the questions. She didn’t plan on delivering so many but here we are. She looks over at the slanted picture of the Eiffel Tower and thinks we need to get back over to Marwood and the bots for more storytelling on the Jeogeot continent. Speaking of which…
“Graham owns the cafe. Rothko fan through and through, along with collecting covid ravens and practicing anti-fascist remote viewing.”
“She?” Barry didn’t say ‘she’ — didn’t identify a sex for Graham, which is more a boy’s name I’m assuming. Where did Wheeler get…? Oh, maybe *she’s* indicating I should go in that direction. *She* wants to be Graham. So I decided to ask her. Wait, I’m not in this shot.
Barry didn’t pick up on the anomaly and simply replied, “*she*, yeah.” Wheeler was already checking her outfits.
(to be continued?)
She woke up in the middle of the night with a realization. The maid was still trying to move the dead body out of the room to no avail. Perhaps she was attempting to be too quiet about it. I know who the motel receptionist is, Yoko Ona thought while staring up at the ceiling long crack in the ceiling: Cindy A.! This is where I met her and also started interacting with the others of the traitorous A.Team. Todd I believe. And Jim! Who could forget Jim and his maths. Figures began forming in her mind with this. All the numbers again (1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0). She decided she needed a middle of the night martini for further pondering. And so as not to disturb the maid and her duties, she tip toed out of the room, silently shutting the door behind her in search of a bar.
To move beyond 02 and especially 03, she knew she’d have to get by the security guard known locally as Big Black Smoke — learned that from the maid. She, in a whisper of a voice, had warned her about the corruption existing at the motel after dusting the bathroom for the 3rd time. 3 again. A.Team with three members. She’s getting closer! She runs smack into Big Black Smoke while spacing out about 3. “Morning misses,” he spoke, not fazed in the least. “Out for your morning walks again?” Plural, she realized. He thinks *I* am 3. And he’d been moved in front of motel door 03 with the collision for further emphasis. Heartsdale was certainly trying to talk to the famous widow of a woman! She walks further into the town proper and its beating Null Heart after affirming Big Black Smoke’s guess.
(to be continued)
She decides to check into the motel she sits in front of with David and Linda. Why not? Too many mysteries to explore here in one sitting! Multiple me’s, she ponders while waiting for the desk clerk to respond to her presence. She never does, so Yoko Ona pipes up. “Excuse me miss… do you have any rooms available?”
“Rooms? What rooms?” Sarah McDooglehan then shakes her head and looks around the lobby, as if snapping out of a trance (true). “Oh… *these* rooms. Well,” — she puts her finger to her temple instead of checking any list she has, which seems odd. “Two is available. I’ll register it in triplicate. 222, then.”
“I’m *not* paying for three.” But then Yoko Ona reconsiders. *Is* she?
“One it is,” Sarah returned. “Not two, not three. Here’s the key.” She removed it from her pocket and not the wall with the others. Another oddity.
She has to wait for the maid to finish dusting and removing that dead body before she can bring in the rest of her stuff.
“*Another* one,” Hidi uttered while gazing forward at the sea monster in the distance, a double to the one in Storybrook Lake.
“This must be the correct photo to begin tonight’s session with.” She then decided on another form. Batty Casey?
Not quite yet. All grown up Katy Kidd, the Real McCoy now?
Soon. Then I remembered the arena, the battle. Grays vs. Browns. Slaughter but then Olive Branch extended. Fred and Ethel.
Looks like Batty Casey is the one.
But first a little fun.
“Come here dear,” Mary Pippens requested from the open door. “I want to show you something.”
“In a minute dear,” spoke her husband of 29 years, Achilles. “I’m recharging myself on The Diagonal.” One day it will solve my nose problem, he then thinks while beholding the cursed big honker between his eyes. I’m sure of it. 15 minutes a day: that’s how long the church told him to do, no more no less. He looks down at his watch.
Two minutes and 37 second later, he began moving to the now closed door to join his wife at the bay window of their bedroom. “Look there, hubby. I stare out this window every day at one of my beloved, local hills, and this structure *definitely* hasn’t been here before. Here, I’ll open the window so you can take a better gander. Right over there on the old Elaine Ratio property. She’s rarely home any more, you know.” With her arthritis weary arm, Mary points toward the visible corner of my recently erected 32 square meter house in Instabar, the one Summerhill Nova warned could spell TROUBLE for me once again.
“We should alert the local neighborhood watch. Who’s the head of that thing now?”
“Hidi,” Achilles said. “I think — can’t remember the last name.” He sniffed and the cats ran away.
“Well, I’ll try to track down this Hidi tomorrow.”