Tag Archives: Jeffrie Phillips^*++

February 21, 2021 · 9:51 am

about town 01

“Danny,” MAT invited. “This is the new boss: Jeffrey Phillips. I don’t know if you’ve met…”

“We did,” spoke Danny, freshly emerged from his trailer after the knocking at the door. Mop and plunger in hand, he was about ready to go clean the bathrooms on the floor below anyway. He was fully dressed. For a change.

Jeffrey Phillips couldn’t remember meeting Danny before but let it, once more, pass. He began to worry about his memory. And the incident at the library that didn’t take place. His head spun round and round. He woke up. MAT was at the door, ready to take him to another door: that of Danny’s trailer attached to the back side of Fal Mouth Moon, the largest gallery in town and perhaps the largest building, if that wasn’t the Blue Feather, Jeffrey’s new home. Will he stay alone there? He snickers internally at the thought. Of course he won’t be alone. He wasn’t alone before and he certainly won’t now, what with his new position of power. He’ll think about that later: back to the issue at hand. He shakes Danny’s hand but Danny doesn’t shake as hard back. Danny has reservations about the new leader. He thought it should be Man About Time himself. He decides to ask. Best to have it out in the open.

Both look at him when he states his preference. “I’ve known MAT for quite some time now,” he continues. “He’s always been fair to me; got me this great gig at the Fal Mouth Moon, and then got me returned real quick when I goofed up over…” Danny stopped. He didn’t want to tell Jeffrey about the art theft right now. He looked at MAT for clues how to proceed. MAT arched his eyebrows back, indicating he was going too far. The new ruler is *right here*, he could hear him think. *Behave* yourself.

So he didn’t mention that MAT had more blog posts to his credit than Jeffrey Phillips, he didn’t mention the womanizing (he’d seen Jeffrey Phillips twice, once with Charlene the Punk and the other with Lois who replaced Charlene, who then replaced Lois… and on it goes… who is he with now?).

“Next up is Roger Pine Ridge,” spoke MAT after they had moved past Danny. But MAT forgot that they didn’t have enough prims presently to rezz Roger’s house and allow him to become a citizen of the reborn town again. He was thinking about another time. *This* would be his problem if he were leader, and Baker Bloch and the rest knew it. Danny was just too naive to see.

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February 21, 2021 · 9:51 am

trick

From the library window I looked up into the heart of reborn Collagesity, pansies in front of me, reminding me of, well… the truth. That Mick wasn’t real any longer; given up the Menace part. I was safe. For now.

I turned back to Bean the Librarian and asked if he had any Lafferty in the building. Funny thing, though: the pansies were still in front of me. I was on both sides of the window because I wasn’t there atall. I believe he was even laughing at me a bit.

I turned the other way and asked again and then started laughing myself, but not in a good way I gathered. My head starting spinning round.

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February 21, 2021 · 9:50 am

similar if not the same

“So tell me more about this David Bowie character.”

“David *Bowie*.”

“Oh… not like the knife?”

“Think ‘Eenie Menie Miney Moey’. Bowie,” she finalized for Jeffrey Phillips, studying up hard to take over leadership of newly re-established Collagesity. From Baker Bloch. But also from Wheeler. Who was sitting opposite him, telling him about Bowie not like the knife.

“Okay… got the pronunciation down. Now the tie. Why is he wearing the same tie I am? Obviously, I think, this is Pansy. Pansy Mouse.”

“Don’t say that name out loud,” she demanded, voice lowered out of fear. “*He* can hear us,” and she pointed up into the video with this. Jeffrey Phillips didn’t understand; let it pass. He continued.

“Tell me about Twin Peaks.”

—–

7 minutes and 6 seconds later he had the whole story. His name was backwards from the one Bowie assumed in the Twin Peaks movie… in order to hide. Wheeler Wilson was herself hiding from Wilson Wheeler from the Oz franchise. Bowie was slated to reprise his role in the Twin Peaks (series) remake when he passed on to the other side. “This was over 5 years ago,” she explained. “Then he came to Collagesity, an *aspect* did. “He almost stole Baker Blinker from Karoz Blogger, so it was a, um, *substantial* visit. We had to trap him in the forest and remove the town for a bit in order to send him away. He was obsessive like that. Just like…”

“Me.” It wasn’t a question.

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February 4, 2021 · 9:44 am

a way out?

Charlene Brown the Punk and Jeffrie Phillips sit in the car again in the center of Harbourtown, the twin city of NWES. “Rose Heaven seems to have closed up for us, dearest,” she spoke to him. “Gaston too.”

“Don’t go there?” asked Jeffrie Phillips again, to which she responded in the negative. “Too many ghosts,” she added, looking over at the Happy Travels Travel Agency, Harbourtown Branch, with its 3 featured portals.

“Karma,” he elaborated, or perhaps just added onto what Charlene said.

“We still have Guy. In the temple over there. Shall we go worship?”

“Sure.”

—–

Where a door closes a hole opens. Guy had protected one he knew was important, thus preserving the past as well. The past to the future. UNEXPLAINED ANOMALY.

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January 29, 2021 · 4:26 pm

leaving Fryburg

“You know more about the blue rose and the blue thorn, child, enough for now — enough for your understanding.”

“I… understand.”

“Now we must move away from this butterfly themed treehouse on this once quartz laden peak in the Mountain Lake District. We have learned all we can from here. Remember to pack your umbrella. It’s rainey season in the South.”

“I… shall.”

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January 27, 2021 · 10:24 am

edges

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)


snowy peak again

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January 23, 2021 · 10:07 am

classical

She should have never gone into that cave. She was out in the open, the fresh, clean air with the star studded sky spreading out above her, and then she wasn’t. A path, but not leading to clean, fresh water. Dank, dingy, green, algae congested. Atrophied. Some say her life was atrophied when she got hitched to her twin brother Toothpick/Philburg back at the end of photo-novel 22. Only the Free Tilists, with close ties to the Deep South (of Black Ice), would marry them. “Amoral,” cried to Pentagonists, worshipers of all things 5 sided and 5 pointed and originating on Mars. “Blasphemous, a slap in the face of Our Lord God of Heaven,” bemoaned the Trilogists, better known as our Christians. Only the 4-square Tilists would touch it, but only in Catalpa outside the direct influence of the city council who had ultimate judgment in these matters and could expel the couple if the ceremony was held on their grounds. Instead: All Orange, between the wine red apples of Apple’s Orchard and the slick yellow banana symbolically lying at the center of Black Ice, which all revolves around like a Beanstalk or Pope to a helmet wearing monkey (crook) with one upturned and one downturned eyebrow. It was only in All Orange where it could happen. The 5th, but in a good way this time (we hope).

Barry De Boy settled back in the rocking chair with the maple leaf pillow and felt it was good. I have acquired the power of the three now, the scissors to begin, then the paper, then, lastly, rock (in the middle). Rock solid I am. Jeffrie Phillips I am. He he he. He he he he he. Ho ho. Hu. Huh.

“Hi!”

It was Waldrip. Or was it Waldrup. Waldrop? …drep? Anyway, I could feel his presence even if I couldn’t see him. Like a mouse.

He stopped rocking, stood up. “Who goes there?”

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January 22, 2021 · 10:42 am

triads 02

“She comes here every day, and every day a different game. I haven’t seen a repeat yet. She must be testing the atmosphere, maybe making sure it isn’t poison. 4 games left in the cache. I predict an actual, breathing human — *not* a mascot — will be arriving in the week. Wanna bet on it?”

“No, I’ll take your word for it. You’ve been here a lot longer than me. In this Castle Town. Isn’t that what it’s usually called?”

—–

We were taking a break from strategizing. I turned away for a moment, tired of looking them in the eye. I’d figured something out. Mascots — that’s what they were. Only mascots. Not real atall. Only symbols of a writer… and an artist. The two aspects of *me*. Maybe it *is* destiny that I take Baker Bloch’s place as leader of the blog and allow him to ascend to the White Palace to rejoin Hucka Doobie. I’ll have to talk to Charlene about it. But I’m kind of finished with these two.

He takes another sip of wine. They hadn’t even asked for anything to drink, not water, not booze. Nothing. That was the first big tip-off.

—–

“It’s time to play rock, paper, scissors, Barry, to see which one of us goes to Castle Town.”

“Oh all right,” answers Barry.

“Ready? One, two…”

—–

“Oh, and also a pad or something that I can write on, thanks.”

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January 19, 2021 · 7:11 am

fuzzy navels

“What’s up, boss. I’m back, as you see.” Stumpy wanted MAT (Man About Time) to comment on his return, ask him what he’s been up to. Man About Time didn’t even know the formerly headless man went missing.

“Where’s Karl?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, hoss. He’s gone. So is Moe. I’m *back*.”

MAT tried to recall the bartender’s name. “You were… missing something.”

“My *head* is all. You almost didn’t hire me for the job because of it. Then Gotham came along and I became a head, almost the opposite. But then it all balanced out, thanks to the red, the wine. Red and blue coordinated. I’m back.”

“That… doesn’t make any sense.” Mild but to the point.

Stumpy began to wax philosophically, inspired by the pot dreams. “Life is a 3d movie, both red and blue. Stereoscop-ic. The trick is to see them *together*, make everything real around you. It’s tricky, yeah, but it’s worth it in the end. I’m 3d, you’re 3d. The bar is 3d. The new trailer park just over the street edge in front of the store is 3d…”

“Ahh yes, thanks. That’s what I came in for. I wanted to ask about renting a trailer, er, Stimpy. From Jim K. Polk.” The Man About Time then remembered he had already rented the trailer, already paid the last month’s rent, already cleaned out the premises and came here to find Stumpy back on the job. It’s like the Karl/Moe intermediate period never existed. He looked around the room. Another head should be here besides Stumpy’s and my own, he thought. But it was hit out of the ballpark, bruised and battered somewhere far over a left field fence.

Man About Time was worried about flipping around time because he was now the logical candidate to replace Baker Bloch once the blog protagonist moved on to the White Palace, which already might have occurred. Now that fellow candidate Jeffrie Phillips has left town with that cryptozoologist who hangs out down at Spunky’s. Where was Spunky anyway? I recall 2 people of that name in town, one small, red, and with horns. The other…

“I see you’re still confused about time,” Stumpy spoke up, seeing the glazed look in MAT’s eyes.

“H-how long have you been back?” MAT managed.

“Just got back. Ask me where I’ve been. Buy a returned employee a drink why don’t you. I’ll buy you one and we’ll call it even.”

But then Stumpy forgot all about the experience in the Green Yarn sim as well, and his gig there. Gigi was always at the bar, but he doesn’t recall that either. He had the unfortunately experience of going into the 1898 room and falling asleep, replacing Jeffrie in the bed — another replacement for him. Stumpy stares at MAT, MAT stares at Stumpy. They suddenly realize one is as much of a mess as the other, unable to replace anybody, anywhere, any*thing*.

(to be continued)

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January 18, 2021 · 6:04 pm

triads

“Alright Barrys. Let’s strategize about what comes next since Charlene Brown is busy cooking up a storm in the kitchen. Barry Vampire…”

“*X.* Vampire,” he insists.

“Yes. What do you see on your computer screen? A specific location? A specific person? Or perhaps, dare I go there, a *thing*?”

Barry X. Vampire stares at his computer screen but only sees snow — whiteness. “Nothing yet,” he offers in a slightly disappointed tone. But he’s hoping for words over images. Too many pictures from Picturetown recently, he bemoans internally.

“How about you Barry De Boy? Pictures? Symbols? Words? Something else?”

Barry De Boy expresses he doesn’t see anything yet either. And neither can we even more in this picture. Not even snowy whiteness.

“How… about you?” ventured one of the Barrys rather timidly, I’m not quite sure which one yet.

“I’m not the important one (here),” Jeffrie Phillips declares firmly. “I coordinate between the two of you, the writer (nods toward X. Vampire) and the artist (nods toward De Boy).”

“But… you’re the author,” spoke the Barry that was different from the one who dared to pipe up first. “You are the base, the core. You coordinate *us*.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“But…” the first Barry began again, then was cut short. Charlene came back with chicken dumplings and a lot of other stuff, some smoking hot, some cool as a cucumber. They ate until 7 and then slept until 8. Then at 9 they spoke again but nothing about coordination or anything serious. I believe it was about the local infestation of wild parsnip. Or was it poison ivy. Giant hogweed?

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