Tag Archives: Jack Danielsun^*

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Cardinal decided to quit her job in the wine selling business and instead work for her brother Redbird making sandwiches more in the heart of the village, turning her chronic sour expression not sweet but at least neutral. Sometimes she could crack a smile now, like when Redbird made one of those off-color jokes. No color — that was the key. Let’s listen in…

“Alright, Little Jack. Time to choose. White meat or red meat?”

Oh boy, Cardinal thought, here we go again.

On top of everything, the boy had to have a little whine before deciding.

“That baby need a corking!” her dough rolling brother expressed over his shoulder in the middle of it, breaking the spell. Good ol’ Redbird, she thought while grinning. White it is.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0114, Jeogeot, Towerboro

Thirteenville

The infamous talking rooster of Towerboro, an obvious tourist attraction. Currently owned by Wanda Debbie Prichard. Prichard? Must be a last name. We’ll determine a first name soon enough for the purveyor of the lone antique store of town, another monopoly.

Jack doesn’t like the rooster. Jack heard it says his name. “Jack son special,” he crowed to elaborate just afterwards.

“He he,” his father laughed, “that’s *us* son. I’mmm Jack, and you’rree Jack, see? (he points to the respective parties here) Jack’s son, ha ha.”

“And you certainly *are* special, young man,” wife Debbie Wanda Prichard (Prichard again?) added while pecking his cheek with a couple of quick kisses. The rooster leaned forward, seeming to want to peck Jack Jr.’s cheek as well. “Special,” he clucked to reiterate.

—–

“Show’s over, Prichard,” said the purveyor at 5 o’clock while setting down his cage on the floor and opening the door. “Time to go home.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0113, Jeogeot, Towerboro

frame count

“Lemme start again, heh. One two free fo five… wait, lemme…”

“It’s *13*,” I spoke down, having determined this long ago. “You keep saying 12 — at best. You keep saying that and you’re *dead*. You understand??”

He starts again with a laugh and a snicker and a hiccup. In his drunkenness he decides not to even try this time. “Oooonnnee, he he.”

“Just stop.” STOP

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0109, Jeogeot, Towerboro

tiger 02

It didn’t work with Norm the Cashier — dead — but it might with Wendy, another blue square of Earth just over there.

In a dream tonight, she shed something red and he did too: his red tie. They were on a beach in the dream and he was the dreamer and it was his beach. He’d been there a while but Wendy had just arrived — in red. Red Stripe Beach: that was the name, or that became it after the pivotal event. It was all leading somewhere…

—–

Barry woke up, his back aching again. Sleeping on his pink plastic couch won’t hack it long term. He needs a proper bed! First Norm’s couch at the flower shop that was destroyed by a fire week before last and now this nearby place with only a couch again to crash on. Norm let him stay in her bed some nights, but that was it. “Nothing over 50%,” she said. “We must remaining playing just a game and not let it become a philosophy or even religion. We are not a religion,” she ended, puzzling the younger Barry who only wanted the friendly, loving warmth of female companionship. She returned to her cash register with this proclamation and he returned to her couch. The final, fated visit by Amazonia for the 49×61 payment was still days and maybe weeks away. The number 17 comes to mind. He was out and about when it happened, just roaming the streets of Black Ice and wondering if Norm and he had any kind of future. Apparently not, now, although he’d heard the witch doctors down at the market could bring the formerly living back from the dead, a favorite cat or dog, or even a girlfriend or wife for the price. Which he didn’t have anyway — and that’s how Norm got in trouble in the *first* place. He sighs. “Oh well,” he speaks aloud and moves to the other room to write down his dreams per usual before making breakfast. Toasty-O’s, the story of his life.

—-

In another dream, Barry sits across from a guy named Jack Danielsun at a Toasty-O shaped bar but knows his actual name is Dimmy, like a lightbulb. Not the brightest, he ascertained from the dull conversation. Just another unschooled punk. He spoke of bartending at Phantom Hill and how he got there in a row boat from the other side of the rather large island he lived on. Again: not the smartest. And probably schizophrenic on top of it all.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0509, Black Ice, ENIGMA, Nautilus, NWES Island^, Wild West

small variations matter

“I’m telling you, Jack. They’ve forgotten everything. The war’s over, they go home. Then slowly, one by one, they make their way back .They pick up their arms once more, if they have any arms left to pick them up from the last time. Or maybe they just grow back. Like lizards do. Jack — are you listening to me? You seem distracted. I’m saying–”

“Hitler’s dead, is what all the papers say,” the youthful bartender mutters anxiously to the raccoon man, returned to the Jeogeot Gulf for a timely visit. “Yet the Japs fight on. Soon the war will be over. But then I wake up, it’s 1939 all over again. Poland is invaded.” Jack starts to sob a little here. “It just starts *over*.”

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to *tell* you Jack. I should know. I started out as a private and rose in the ranks to a 5 star general in charge of the whole caboodle. I said, from this position of power: this is it. Surrender. Go home y’all. Lay down your arms… all the things you said. Then I come back and everything is unlearned, undone. Tell me Jack.” He takes another sip of insipid beer, probably American. “Do you even know what side you’re fighting for any more? Some don’t.” He turns and looks at the 1/2 filled bar of military personnel. “If the uniforms were a little grayer here, a little drabber there, I don’t think anyone would know.”

Jack wipes the counter down nervously, thinking that 1/2 the people in the room are watching him and half aren’t. But he doesn’t know which. He tries to determine friend from foe through the caps and helmets but all the lines get blurred together. He’s lost it. He needs to go home but he doesn’t even know where that is any more. Home is here I suppose, he says to himself. He pours two shots of Jack Daniels, one for the raccoon man and one for himself. “Here’s to home,” he proclaims while raising his glass, resigned to the fact. Over in one gulp, he pours another while 1/2 the room still eyes him.

Rocky Racco stares intently down into his own empty glass like it was a scrying device, and maybe it was. He needs to figure out what went awry with his plans and end it for good this time. This smells like a Casey One Hole case in his estimation (he channels?), with everyone vying for that damned mustard seed.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0409, NWES Island^

Nancy and Bettie

“Weird how my name is Nancy, and I’m playing a girl named Nancy in the play.”

“Not at all odd,” responds the purple haired Bettie sitting in the opposite seat of their posh Lapara Hotel room — the 145 dollars a week one, not the 100. “Fate, we must call it. Like ‘The Shining’ (movie). Jack Nicholson played Jack from (Stephen King’s) book. Daniel played little Danny. Just like your own Danny. We must think of these things.”

“But why would Nancy shoot Gideon if he’s already caught and jailed? What’s my motivation for playing this obviously psychotic woman?”

“I understand it completely,” Bettie says. “Passion rules over all. Nancy’s love of her life had been robbed. So she robbed the robber of his life in turn.”

“But then her *own* life was robbed by the robber after he became… a vampire? Is that really believable?”

“The story has it that this is true,” replies Bettie. “Why don’t you study the script more and take notes.”

Nancy doesn’t even give a glance at the “Bible Truth” script leaning against the chair arm beside her. “Oh I’ve looked at that again and again. I’ve memorized everything by now. Might as well throw it out of this high window for all it’s worth.”

“Well,” joked Bettie. “As your *understudy*, haha, you could just abdicate the role. Let me take over. I could have poisoned your drink there, let’s say. You know how bad I wanted the part.” She smiled.

“Not a bad idea, Bettie,” Nancy said, absorbing the inside joke. “But I’m Nancy let’s face it. Nancy plays Nancy. And you, as Bettie, will play Bettie, who is the understudy to Nancy in the play as well.”

“In the play within the play.”

“The vampires,” complained Nancy further. “Why are they called vam*pures* in ‘Bible Truth’?”

But Bettie was distracted by the noise outside the window. “Oh Lordy, here we go.” She pointed down. “Evangelicals. Looks like you’re not the only one who doesn’t cater to the idea of mortals rising from the dead.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0005, 0113, Heterocera, Lapara^