Tag Archives: Jim A. Brown^*+%%

June 23, 2019 · 6:41 am

privacy

The 3rd night, Jim  (A.) Brown came down from Pipersville to hear his home duo. Owner of Jim’s Club of course, the one everybody dug in Pipersville. Well,  he got an earful; realized he couldn’t hold on to them and they would outgrow the bounds of his small venue. “Soon enough you’ll be playing places like the Seraph Club on the opposite side of town,” he declared to Keith afterwards at the bar, who was still wiping his forehead from the excitement. Jenny had gone shopping for trinkets up in Chinatown.

“Yeah, maybe,” Keith agreed, nodding. “I don’t know, I don’t know. Something’s just — *entered* me all of a sudden. He looks back at the drum kit and the circle within the circle. “I feel like (he turns back to Jim), that I’m in a different place now.”

“I would advise you to remember The Room — where you come from.”

“I mean, ahem, that’s kind of what I’m doing.” He swigs his drink again. Martini. Dry as a sinkhole.

“What about the maths? What about the theorems we worked on? You know that Sink X can’t actually be a sink. None of the Maebaleia depressions are. We’ve *proved* it.”

“Shush,” he motioned with his mouth and hands. “Keep it down.” He looked around to see if anyone else from Pipersville was in the room with them by chance. No one spotted. Todd A., who also came down this fateful night, was escorting Jenny around. But that was their plan all along: to leave Brown and Bower together for a while for a man to man talk. Because Jim and Todd knew what was going on before they arrived. The Brown-Bower experiments hadn’t even existed before this.

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June 12, 2019 · 7:37 am

Sink X

“It was a meeting of the Pipersville brain trust. Cindy A., Jim A., and Todd A. A different setting, certainly, than the Hole in the Wall the general public knew them from. The Tipsy Trio some call them, like Your Mama. She knows them all too well, she thought — back in the days they were best mates, her being a kind of unofficial 4th member of the club. Jim’s Club — ahh yes. That was the name. Because Jim was the ringleader; on the catbird seat. Now that Keith had fled the scene. Bower-Brown. Undercover. Famous, even infamous, but also not known atall. The sink did that to people, affected their minds. This was proven by the theorems they were working on at the time. The bank had 1 room where they could test subjects, but there were others. You could call it a time machine, but that wouldn’t be taking it far enough. Kind of a space machine as well. No, let’s call it an *Option* machine, both through space and time.”

Preston Weston was cutting the z’s by then. Craighead Phillips, the more moral Option, decided to call it quits for the night. Long journey back to Old Wagon Road or thereabouts to pick up where the other one left off.

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June 7, 2019 · 5:05 am

past

As a child, she often came to the “Pipe Room” underneath the bank her father worked at to play. For a long time, she figured this room is how the town got its name somehow. Someone, perhaps famous, perhaps even *infamous*, was trapped in this room with these pipes, she imagined. Witness the bars covering the small windows on the door and the wall.

African-American nudie photo above the lone table. Perhaps someone black, then, she reasoned early on. Maybe Jim A. would know more of the story. But as far as he knew he was the only black that ever lived in Pipersville (he personally preferred “brown”). *And*, he quickly correct, the town was named for an original settler named Piper. Nothing more. “But the room had to have *some* function,” she replied to Jim. “Stop trying to dig up dirt on that place,” he requested, understanding the town powers and what they could do. Something a child shouldn’t know about. She’d learn soon enough, when she was older.

Then, overnight, the town grew a suburb, the aforementioned Sandpiper Court with its three houses. Your Mama’s family moved into the middle of the 3. She began to sing at the local club called The Diamond, owned by this very same Jim. In truth he was trying to distract her from the room and from town mysteries in general. Plus she could really belt out the tunes.

It would be a number of years before she started being called the name she became famous with: Your Mama. Not a child any longer. And she took the name shortly after learning the truth about the room. And Jim.

(to be continued?)

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May 30, 2019 · 9:18 am

X-ed out

Bob, Fred, Ethel, Pat, Squirm, and Poochie lived on Sandpiper Drive atop a bank overlooking Maebaleia’s seemingly deepest sinkhole. Called Sink X, because it was the 10th found and also, perhaps — especially long term — the most mysterious and relevant to our present story.

Also on the lip of the sinkhole was the town itself: Pipersville, named after the same avatar that founded Sandpiper Court a little later on. So the court and its 3 houses can be seen as a type of suburb of the town in my mind. Sink X links them together, large to small.

I’ve changed my mind. Let’s start in town instead. Cindy A., Jim A., and Todd A. conglomerate at a popular Pipersville watering hole.

Some nights they discuss this very subject: the Maebaleia sinkholes, which one is most mysterious, which one is even the deepest, and, sometimes, on the darkest of nights, they talk about the Crabwoo disaster associated with the 13th and last one. Some try to relegate that particular sink to a bowl, a Super Bowl they grant, but still a bowl and not a sink proper. A professor of Sinkology at a nearby university came in one evening and attempted to straighten out each and every one of them while downing pint after pint of delicious, locally brewed Stigman’s Quarterly, an IPA with an alcohol content of 11.6. Almost wine strength. Well, he looked at each and every one of them in the eye and stated, plain and clear as he could, that Satori, aka Maebaleia — and he straightened them out on the *name* of the continent as well — no, this *Satori* contains no sinks proper and that only Jeogeot (where he was born and raised, by no coincidence) and Corsica contained legitimate sinkholes, like the wide, deep Chasm Deep for the latter and, obviously, the most famous sink of all, Big Sink, for Jeogeot. “These depressions in *your* continent are either too shallow” — and he gave the stereotypical Finsteraahorn-Dammastock example here — “or too close to the coast to count. Like this so-called Sink X.” These were fighting words, and indeed Professor Suckaluck was beat to a pulp later that night by town thugs and sink fanatics alike, then tossed over the edge of town, eventually rolling and rolling and then resting, dead as a doorknob, at the bottom of the sinkhole he had earlier dismissed as irrelevant and mistermed. Certainly relevant to him now.


re-creation: death of Professor Suckaluck.

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