Tag Archives: Jackson Bloch^*++++

May 17, 2025 · 6:52 am

00460608 (What happens in the cornfield…)

Thes butterflies were circling fast around her now. Wheeler had been released, although Douglas technically remains at zero as black becomes white ’round back while white becomes black up front. Erasure (infinity). *When* she wakes up.

—–

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_Lake,_Sullivan_County,_New_York

According to local lore, its Native American name was Kauneonga—meaning lake with two wings (the lake has a figure 8 layout resembling wings).

—–

“If I would have told Bob the Builder up front that he had to power to fix The Burg’s infrastructure all along,” she made small talk with him afterwards, “he wouldn’t have believed me. He had to find out for himself.”

Her creation thought about this for a moment — the time lag of the admittance and the unnecessariness of it — then emitted: “Noot. *Logical*.”

“You’re *right,* Douglas. It doesn’t make sense. And that’s why there’s a sphere involved. Black becomes white as white becomes black. Another erasure to match the first.”

She wakes up.

(to be continued)

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May 10, 2025 · 4:12 pm

00460516

“I was made from here,” puts forth Douglas, standing in the midst of the Albert Swamp Cemetery.

Ahh, the plot thickens, thinks Wheeler. “Parts?” she queried.

He starts indicating locations. Well, *a* location. “That headstone,” he gruffs while pointing ahead. “Head.” He points to his own.

“Uh *huh*. Feet?” she hastens the process, looking behind her to see if he would be vulnerable to suggestion. Another test of character from her, then. But, to her pleasure and satisfaction, he points to the same tombstone. “Same body,” he utters.

“Ohh, nice. And how about the rest, the arms, the legs, the torso, the… other stuff? Same?” she guesses. She moves forward and crouches down before he gets a chance to answer, checks the name on the tombstone. “Yup, looks like so. Albert…” she reads… “can’t make out the middle name.”

“Wendell,” issues Douglas, revealed now as a cobbled together Albert sim monster (of lore?).

“Okay… take your word for that. Then… yes, Douglas. Years 1882 through, it looks like, 1942. Oh, only 60 years old when he — you, I guess — died. War?”

“Just after war.” He was saying when he was born — remade — not the circumstances of death, Wheeler understood.

“*Wheeler*,” calls an energized Bob at the gate of the cemetery. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Well. You found me!” she tries to match his energy. In turning she noticed he didn’t bring along his pipe. Unusual! Something has changed on his end too, she senses.

“I’ve found the cat-people and they are me,” he just blurted it out plainly and simply. “We can go home; back to The Burg. I can fix everything with my newfound psychic abilities.” He points to his own head with one of his 2 free hands. “Mind power.”

“Oh,*great*. That’s great news, Bob. It really is. But…”

“But what?” Bob looks at her and then the monster and then back. “You’ve found someone?”

“I’ve *made* someone,” she corrected. “Back in time. Cool, huh? I have powers too. Albert, I mean, *Douglas,* meet Bob. Bob the Builder who’s going to fix the problems of our Burg with his powerful brain powers now. Cool, huh?” she says in turn to him. He grunts. Wheeler takes it as a sign he’s impressed. She’ll have much time to learn the ins and outs of his mannerisms, though. She has to stay; she has to take care of him, her monster after all. There’s more mysteries here in this big ass swamp of a sim. And probably Pogo to the north as well. Okefenokee North? Could be. Maybe even a bit of Providence Canyon mixed in here too. Wouldn’t that be the oddest?

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May 10, 2025 · 2:37 pm

00460515

He’d already done it twice on the pipe but the pipe had turned into a broom, thanks to Wheeler’s, I mean, *Glinda’s* magic wand. “3rd time on the ceiling,” she commanded. “3rd time on the ceiling,” she repeated. “3rd time on the ceiling,” she said again. “Just fly up!” she finished the incantation, plainly stating the objective.

He can do it, she thinks. He *will* do it.

He indeed flies up after a short but significant enough pause, knocks against the ceiling pretty hard with the end of what is now his broom. Everything changes.

—–

He wakes up on the couch with the same old 12′ pipe but immediately senses its function has changed. He realizes he had the power to fix the town’s infrastructure all along. They don’t need End of Time’s alien cat-people, psychic geniuses in such things. He is actually one of them! In short, he knows he can fix everything simply with his mind. He laughs out loud with the power, “ha ha ha”. Is this good? Probably good I’m thinking. Pretty sure.

Well, just in case I suppose we should file it as another one of those: we’ll see’s. Plot holes are still possible if not pot holes now.

(to be continued)

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May 8, 2025 · 9:53 pm

00460511

Wheeler made sure she rented the last room in the town’s hotel so that Benny Right Horn would be forced back into the caves, lucky her. Jackson Bloch — I *mean*, Bob the Builder from The Burg — shortly joined her. They were here at the End of Time researching infrastructure and solutions to. Bob hadn’t been here since the last time he visited, which is logical. Similar to Jer Left Horn’s last presence in this land, that would be around 5 years back now. Why did he visit then? Well, same reason. He was looking for answers. He had been born here as it turned out.

“Bob?” Wheeler called across the room, using his new name instead of the old still. As they agreed upon. “You all right over there? Have room for that, ahem, pipe on the couch with you?” Wheeler understood Bob was sleeping with the pipe but that was okay. His wife had died 3 years ago and so he’d turned a little weird in the meantime. Fetish with infrastructure. Deadly weapon doubled as a new wife and visa versa.

“Okay,” said Bob, adjusting the pipe relative to his body. They must stretch out together in exactly the right way. To make this happen, Bob had to prop it up on both couch ends and slide underneath it. Wheeler didn’t want to see!

“Listen, Bob. I think it’s time for me to go exploring in those caves, poke around End of Time as a whole while everyone is asleep. So I’ll see you around.”

(to be continued, but only on Wheeler’s side of things)

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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 6, 2025 · 7:11 am

00460308

“Well. Here we are.” And then he went in.

I’m scared, Bimbo thinks, hesitant to do the same and remaining outside. Do I really want to know how this works? Will I look at Fink Humann in a different way after this, a different light? Maybe it’s best–”

“Are you coming or are you not?” Stanley poking his head back out of the store’s door.

Cooommming, she thought. That’s the problem. That’s not what her type does, she’s found out. Nor his.

—–

But for Blue Moon Kentucky, seen here searching in vain for anything else besides that one solo album a bit earlier in the day as record store owner Charlene the Punk looks on smugly: no problem as it turns out.

And that’s when the whole scene climaxed. At the video store. Special viewing room as the static on the TV turned into something else, something Bimbo had never seen. And never wanted to see again.

(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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May 12, 2023 · 8:37 am

couched terms

“Hello, Tom? I’ve arrived. And there’s a sprite already here, just like you said there would be.”

(reply)

“Hold on.” He removes the phone from his ear, looks over. “Honey, what’s your name?”

“Morgan,” she said in an ordinary enough voice for a part plant person. He raises the phone again.

“Morgan, she said.”

(reply)

“Wrong place??”

—–

“And that’s what brought me here, to the tree, to the *mutants*,” he said to John the Mind Reader still sitting opposite him in the present, drinking his coffee, still enjoying the beans. “Spill some more,” he requested, leaning back, carefully sipping at this tilted angle. Sometimes just the mention of the word triggers the event, he knew. The others finally arrived, the lot of ’em, crammed altogether in a lime green truck with Dude on the side and Chevy Dodge on the back. Joker and Jester, Jethro and Bauer, Doug and Clyde (formerly Tin Tin and Clubby). Paired troublemakers all. Liars to the hilt. They say caffeine makes you so if unchecked by alcohol. And there hasn’t been a (wal)drop of beer wine liquor in this levee type of place since January. And then: Jackson Bloch riding tailgate, the strangest of them all.

But where was Ted? all began to murmur as they took their usual seats in the establishment set up near the lip of the Great Fissure or Fracture, your pick. “Right here,” micronized Ted said unseen in the center of it all, tightly clutched by his new master.

(to be continued)

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May 8, 2023 · 1:39 am

00380214

“Is it really you, Mother?” he called from across the court. “Alive and in the flesh again?” Ted, aka Stitches, couldn’t believe his ever-wide peepers.

“Come to Mama,” she said to this, and he flew into her open arms, micronized in a flash. Microcosm. She had a subject after all.

And a new character. Ratcatcher of the Fracture. *Not* the Fissure. She extended the story backwards and forwards to give it solidity. Two caught rats in a backpack cage — *not* pets, even though she’d given them names by now: Billy and Corgan. Story about that too. “Pumpkintwisters.” And, come to think of it, two more subjects I suppose, if she wishes.

Noise from the “cafe”. Two people she’d missed before, making a plan Stitches told her in her mind. She couldn’t make out the conversation herself but she knew the ever-aware, lime green teddy would give details later if she’d just hold her position without being disturbed. Physically, not mentally, because it was too late for the latter. Better add another scar or three and maybe the same with the rats, she thought, looking at what was coming her way. Al and John the Mind Reader (aka Jed aka Incognito we think) were only the first to arrive. Weekly meeting of the Last Drop Gossipers we have here. Including long forgotten Jackson Bloch, no kin to Baker. And apparently Ted numbered among them too. How could she explain the micronization? Was that even a word?

“Don’t worry,” she heard him say, still one through it all. “They can’t see you while I’m with you. Just sit over there in the center and *listen*. Takes two to know.”

(to be continued)

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January 15, 2020 · 9:24 am

1 2 3

Benny Right Horn was swaying while listening to the song of the wind and enjoying it thoroughly. He’s decided to at least temporarily abandon his search for Tessa on the railroad and stay here, in a secret camp next to the cascading water at this particular cave mouth. Soon, gun in hand again, he will run into likewise EOT visitor Jackson Bloch, also looking for the grandchild of Herbert Gold. The meeting may not turn out as expected.

In fact, here he comes now from the direction of Wabe. Or is it Wabd? Rebl would know. She’ll reenter the picture soon as well.

In fact, there she is.

“I heard clanking.”

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