Tag Archives: Jack Dogg^*+++++$

00460304

“Isn’t this a beautiful view of the harbour, Newt? Just lovely.”

“Well,” opined her opposite eating ice cream partner at the stand. “They could have done a better job with the line there dividing the 2 sides of the texture. Makes it obviously unreal. And the blurring–”

“Blurring only makes it more romantic,” quickly countered Wheeler. “This skyline could be any city in the world you want it to be, any virtual burg for that matter. It could be Sydney to me, Melbourne to you. Our choice. Just pick the most romantic city you know and you’re sitting across from it, eating strawberry or vanilla ice cream, also your choice. You like vanilla, I don’t.”

“We better start talking about Nawt Vaya,” said Newt, tired of meaningless chatter. “Why we came here. To this *rendezvous*,” he couldn’t help tack on again. Next time, he promised himself. Gowns and formal attire.

“Okay.” She finished the last 1 1/2 scoops of strawberry in one huge gulp just to try to speed things up and maybe add a little comedy to the matter, then continued to talk with mouth open and muffled voice. “Ow, fthatt *hurfts*.”

“What do you expect, Wheeler?” he said, watching her now deal with brain freeze. He decides to start while she heals. “Let’s take account of the residents of our fair land there in the center of Nawt Vaya. First off, there’s me and you obviously, then Lexi and Philip over in her house on the south edge of the property, then Fink is around too, then Jack is not far away as well — Jack Dogg, I’m obviously talking about here and not any of the other Jacks we’re attached to now. And then Barry De Boy and Wendy are up in that cottage perched above my own home of Newtonia. Do you like that name, Wheeler? Newtonia? Are you able to properly speak yet?”

“Mmmmm. MmmMMMMMMmm.”

“Obviously not. I’ll continue, then. Then there’s Veyot up on the hill, Pearl just up the coast a bit. Then in Juho we have Greg Ogden who’s also an artist — runs STAB now — and then I believe Nada New Year is there too, and also Carolin. And, let’s see, Peter Melanchton–”

“Gone,” Wheeler managed, ice cream headache finally subsiding.

“Right. And then the girl who’s suppose to take his place as summa cum laude graduate of Nawt Vaya State University and her, er, boyfriend I guess we’ll call him. And then Edward is still around.”

“Backwards positioned waterfall,” Wheeler identified his location. “You’re okay with that? Aren’t you?”

“Ahh, *sure*.” He was 1/2 and 1/2 on the issue but he really didn’t have any choice. Unless he did. He’s trying. Date first, then other things. Has to start with a proper date, which apparently this wasn’t. He tries to focus on the census again and away from the Wheeler+Edward continuing issue. “And then Princess Pinky Gumm.”

“She doesn’t count.”

“Oh…. right.” Newt remembers that Wheeler is playing that role, actually. “And… I can’t think of anyone else. Can you?”

“OH. I saw… I saw *Frank*! I totally forgot to tell you.”

“Frank?”

“Yeah. *Frank*. In Juho. At the barber shop when I was getting my hair cut the other day. I was getting the Butterfly No. 25 while he just sat there getting nothing, no styling no treatment, no anything. *Frank*,” she emphasized.

“Frank *who*?” Newt had to question. There were a couple, including a bunny man who hadn’t figured into the plot of these here photo-novels since the middle of the last. But it turned out to be Frank Lynn of GTAV fame.

“And Sep Felton was there too,” said Wheeler. “You know Sep. Butterflies again. Over on Corsica. She’s a stylist in both places. I didn’t even ask her how that worked, dufus that I am. I was *so* focused on getting it all chopped off, letting my scalp breathe again as Winter turns into Spring. I want the Butterfly, I said excitedly almost when I came in the shop. I didn’t realize the synchronicity.”

“You should always be paying attention to synchronicity. Why we’re here,” summarized Newt.

“I know, I know.”

“So… let’s start exploring and we can talk more.”

“My line!”

Someone in desperate need of a haircut himself, or herself, came walking into the picture. It, we’ll call them to remain gender neutral.

(to be continued)

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00460213 (power)

“Sir?” (pause) “Sir?”

“Oh yes, young Fink,” distracted Newt finally acknowledges his presence at the door to his study. “How’s it going? Everything alright with the computer upstairs and all?” He didn’t look at Fink Humann, kept staring at the screen of his own computer.

“Yes, fine sir,” said Fink. “It’s just that it’s 7 o’clock. Time for me to leave. I’m saying goodbye is all. Like, er, like I do every time I come over here… at this time.”

Newt checks his watch not on his arm, gives a little start. “Oh dear, didn’t realize it was so late. Better wrap this up. Well, er, thank you, Fink, for telling me the time and the lateness of it all. And I suppose I’ll see you again… tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is a big day, sir.”

“Please, Fink. You can stop calling me sir. You’ve come over, what is it, almost every day for the past 2 weeks?”

“Except that Sunday when Jack and I went plane flying, yes.”

“We’re friends now,” emphasized Newt from his chair. “Come over here, actually — I know it’s getting late and you need to get back to the treehouse but I — I want your opinion on this. I’m serious. Here.” And Newt waved him over, which he complied with. “What do you see?” he asked as Fink Humann also stared at the monitor with him.

“That’s er, your wife,” said Fink, seeing her image dominating the screen. Fink knew this was Wheeler now and not another form of their precious Princess Pinky Gumm. Wheeler herself told them that during a visit the other day to their treehouse.

“No, *behind* her. What do you see on the wall over there?”

“Um, JEO — GEOT,” he read on the poster. “Jeogeot,” he combined.

“Very good. The continent we’re now on.”

“Jeo-geot,” Fink repeated. “Jeogeot,” he collaged again.

“Yes,” said Newt. “Fine and dandy. But what else is there?”

“Um… people.”

“People, yes. And…”

“Dinos.”

“Dinosaurs, right. Aannd…”

“Um, an elephant?”

*Elephant*? Newt thinks. Does young Fink here not know what a giraffe is?? But then Newt realized Fink had inadvertently given him the answer to the riddle he’d been pondering so deeply about all this afternoon and early into the evening. The phone rang on his table. Wheeler obviously, Newt thought without checking the number.

“Thank you again, Fink. We’ll be talking soon.” He pats him on his shoulder to signal their time was done.

“But not tomorrow,” Fink says while walking out of the study, making Newt realize that tomorrow was the day mechanical contraption Bimbo was suppose to arrive from Fink and Jack’s native Oooo. Fink might not be coming around as much after that, and perhaps not at all. He’d miss the lad if so. Perhaps there was another way, hmm. He finally answers the phone that’s been ringing all this time.

“Where *are* you?” Wheeler emits.

Where are *you*? Newt wanted to say in return but knew it didn’t matter. Could be anywhere in the world… or nowhere. He’d find her whatever. Just up the stairs from down. “Be right there,” he said not into the phone but in the air all around.

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00460207

Time to go see what the boys are up to.

—–

“Thanks for joining me on this little venture.”

“Sure,” he said. “Vegetable garden can wait. Besides, well…”

“Yeah. Potential company back there. You’re going to have to be careful.”

“*You’re* going to have to be careful.”

“Soo… (sigh) This is where it happens, the magic, the view of paradise that boy mentioned.”

“Suppose so, Wheeler.”

“I mean, we saw them head in this direction. No lights. Like now.” Here Wheeler once again wonders if Newt and she would ever be a proper couple. Probably not, she concludes once more, a broken record, a record missing some letters in the middle to make it real. Simply because he’s Baker Bloch and that’s not allowed. Not *here*.

“Right, right. Stayed there — here — about an hour. I suppose that’s enough for paradise.”

“Yes,” said Wheeler nonchalantly to this. “And over there too, that building over there.” Wheeler remotely opens the window to the shack, points. “A treehouse as I’m checking; ‘nother place they go now.”

Treehouse, she ponders. Like the boys live in, with a shared robot computer on the way from their home world of Oooo as well. Should be arriving by next Tuesday’s Thursday.

“Yes, I remember when we were young and full of energy like that,” says Newt. Now just old and tired? he thinks to himself. He’s 50 going on 67. And Wheeler… he supposes she’s at least in her late 40s. Doesn’t look a day over 25 (he looks over). Well, 30 (pause) 35. Body aging gracefully, though. And so is his, he realizes. This works down here and that works up there. Both can happen.

Plus there’s The Abyss to consider, the writhing. Not Hell, but a kind of prison anyway (like Shelley is in?). Newt’s seen glimpses when he drinks his two daily 4 shot lattes too close to each other. 319. Must think about that more. Nawt Vaya — 319, hmm.

“Wheeler?” He looks over, sees the eyes. “I’ve decided to give it a shot.”

“What shot?” she shoots back.

“You know. *That*.”

“*Here*?”

He thinks of The Abyss. So many writhing in The Abyss. Trapped. A date to begin, yes. Start over fresh. Hot dog joint out in the sticks won’t swing it. Something upscale, classy. Wheeler can wear one of those discount gowns she’s been collecting recently, hmph.

“Are you asking me *out*? Hubby?”

(to be continued)

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00460205 (Butterfly Kid)

Now back to Jack at that other treehouse across the water — just beyond the rocket over there. And Fink of course. Bimbo? We’ll see.

(to be continued)

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00460114

“Maker Space, Jack. And the Princess said Bimbo should be coming along soon. She’s working on it, she said.”

“I-I don’t like it as much as the old treehouse, Fink. Not as much room. A-and I don’t have all my stuff.”

“Princess said she’s working on that too.”

“Like: Who’s that old f-ck suppose to be up on the mantel place.”

“Jack!” reprimanded Jack’s human bro and bestie Fink about the cussing, but then started wondering too as he also stared at the aged, bearded man in the photograph…

…. who, in turn, stared at two books from his framed existence, each containing a 1000 pictures of the world around them, this Our Second Lyfe that has suddenly become Their Second Lyfe as well. Orders of Pinky Gumm.

“I mean… I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, pheh,” then said resigned Jack, knowing the Princess had a plan. She always did.

(to be continued)

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00460113 (letting the butterflies loose)

https://bakerbloch.com/2022/07/30/00340113/

—–

“Soo, why are we back here again, Jack? Pink again?”

“Yeah,” responds Jack the Dogg, his 1/2 brother and also bestest friend in the world. Unless it’s Todd. “And you know what that means?”

“Errr,” went Fink, once more sloow to catch on.

—–

15 minutes later, after earning another F- on the new quiz.

“I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy!”

You certainly aren’t, thinks the newest iteration of Princess Pinky Gumm in Our Second Lyfe dominating above him but, of course, biting her tongue. Fink remains a powerful ally. And friend.

Now to deal with Art and Ed, she thinks; break the bad news to the duo so use to having their way up to this point. The buck stops here.

She looks to the sky and thinks of all the power she has. 319.

(to be continued)

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00450412

“Susan was a goner, Fink. You essentially killed her with your attack at the beach. But you were only defending Jack, who would have gotten killed himself if you hadn’t intervened. If *Fern* hadn’t intervened. You first saw him — remember? — across Susan’s sprawled out body, his green matching your flesh, his square matching your round.”

“I remember,” said Fink. “I– didn’t mean to kill her.”

“*Told* you to control that freak-ish green arm better,” reprimanded Jack, then felt bad about it. “I mean, I guess you were defending me and all still.”

“I *was*.”

“*Anyway*,” said Princess Pinky Gumm, “I knew her essence could be put to better use than keeping her alive for another day or three at best until she succumbed to those obviously fatal injuries. So I used that energy, that essence to heal myself. Remember? I was possessed by The Lich. *I* wasn’t going to get any better.” Better her than me, Princess Pinky Gumm thought but didn’t say aloud. Was she 100% sure Susan wouldn’t recover? Actually: no. She had been selfish. Susan was a renegade cyborg killer, programming triggered by an electrical shock from a giant Acid River eel. But maybe, just maybe, she would have recovered. But that left the killer part intact still, she tried to rationalize. Yes, better her than me (for death), she reinforced to herself.

“How?” says Fink.

“I’m both a physicist and psychic trained at world esteemed Cal State, Fink. The answer would be too complicated for your meager brain to comprehend. Given you just made an F minus on what I would consider the easiest test on Earth.” Princess… Pink(y)… Gum(m), she reviews the glaringly obvious three-parter, and looks over at his blank, human face. So typical. At least fellow human Susan had killer written all over hers. After the eel. Kill or be killed, she thought once more. Yes, her complicated arrangement of physical-psychical interactions used for the transfer were justified.

(to be continued)

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00450411

It was an unusual 3n1 that kind of became another 4n1 just later.

“Okay, *why* did you bring me to this table, Jack? Cool location, though,” he said, looking around. “Interesting tunnel over there.”

“Because he needed to show you something,” answered the woman for his cohort Jack Dogg, making him turn back and look at her again. Who was this? She seemed sorta familiar, Fink thought.

She lowered the menu she was holding.

“Nifty,” said Fink. “Appears, let’s see, you’re a princess?” He continued reading the revealed print on the shirt. “And— ‘you’re not’. Which means *I’m* not. And Jack’s not. Are you? Jack?”

“And she’s *pink*,” Jack finally piped up, ignoring Fink’s silly question to him. Because he’d given up that particular gig way back in ’72 after the Bra Wars ended. He leads on in the present: “She’s wearing pink; she’s a princess…”

“Okay, that’s nice I suppose.”

“One last thing,” she said after sighing. “I didn’t want to resort to this because I don’t like the sound it makes. But… here goes.”

*POP*.

“Wow,” says Fink. “That was pretty loud. But pretty awesome. Can I have some?”

“*No*,” answers Jack, growing understandably impatient. “Okay Fink, let’s put all this together. She’s a *princess*.”

“Right right.”

“And she’s *pink*.”

“Okay. Hey that’s kind of like…”

“Yes??” says expectant Jack.

“No, sorry. Lost it.”

“Gum, silly. Gum is the third and last clue. If you don’t—”

“Bubblegum.” His eyes grow even wider. “Princess Pinky Gumm!”

“Finally,” she said, taking the gum out of her mouth and throwing it in the direction of the tunnel. “Now that’s over you can ask questions. You scored an F minus on my little quiz, btw.”

“He he,” said bragging Jack. “I had it in two, hmph. D plus.”

“But… how?” says Fink, still staring at her in disbelief. Take away the pink and this looks nothing like the Candyland ruling Princess Pinky Gumm he knows and worships.

“I’ll tell you how.” It all had to do with Fern.

(to be continued)

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00450407

It was time to stop monkeying around. There were lands to explore, places to visit. I *may* be moving away from Aisle of Palms this month but still not sure. If my rent wasn’t so darn cheap, ha…

Nevertheless, I have a new area of interest on the Jeogeot continent: its largest inland sea with an interesting little town to its northeast called Juho (where Trevor/Philip is pictured playing around above) and another large region to explore to its east — directly se of Juho — named Scire Gaea Park, an older and more established set of linked parcels. And that’s just what I’ve found so far.

Most importantly for Trevor/Philip in the moment, this inland sea doesn’t *stink* like the one he lives near up there in Grand Theft Auto V called Alamo. He can ignore such limitations as bad textures and lack of proper distance sighting for a bit.

He turns in his tracks and then remembers he needs to find Jack. Jack the Dogg. Last he heard he was hanging with a bunch of airplanes at a hanger down on the south coast of Nautilus. He has a landmark, thanks to [delete name]. Monkeying around over, as I said. Time to act like a man now and remain upright and beholding to others of his own kind.

“Thank Gods you’re here, Trevor-Philip,” says the middle sized orange plane representing the present Jack, as opposed to the larger future one and smaller past one also around. “Quick. Get in and stabilize the timeline before I dissociate again.”

“I’m here for you, buddy.”

And then they were up in the air, heading for The Sphere. Not far past that mountain up ahead.

It’s spotted us! Philip thinks. I mean, it’s spotted me and himself. Time to bail, which of course was the plan all along. See ya Jack! Hello Jack!

“GREETINGS,” it said simply and plainly enough, popped out a bit from its base in comparison to the Jeogeot version pictured toward the top of this here post. Along with developing a sort of face obviously for speaking and seeing purposes. But that other one was just a copy all along, a mere reminder for Trevor/Philip’s true purpose in Our Second Lyfe. To find *this*. “LONG TIME NO SEE,” it joked, now looking around the vicinity with its huge peepers for the crashed, dead version of himself.

Perfect.

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00450402 (eclipsed)

Looking across the ruins of the Candy Shoppe — destroyed by Jack the Dogg back in section 02 — toward the Big Victorian House with the LSD Dream Emulator mini-museum we just saw his cohort Fink the Humann sitting in. To its left in the picture we have the Wheeler managed Bull’s Bar, still dutifully guarded by a version of Grant Price also reseen in the current photo-novel. He’s now working as a janitor in a Liberty City Burger Shot after a 10 year stint in prison, his days as head of SecuroServe long behind him. But some old colleagues are about to refind him and lure him back into a life of crime which ended his security agency career. We’ll see how that develops soon.

Let’s move inside now…

Further…

Alright that’s close enough.

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