Tag Archives: KRINGS

short for Anselmo

Baker Bloch couldn’t help himself. “Hold on,” he said, delaying the meeting even further. “Lemme get another beer out of the fridge.

“Everybody good?” he calls to the assembled cast and crew while fishing out a Krings from its depths, including new gal Jinx Doll. Who invited *her*? he thought when she arrived at 15 til 8, 20 minutes before anyone else. “I’ll take one,” said Wheeler directly across from him, who wandered in at 8:35, the last to show up. Immediately before her at 8:25 came Opp, her true love. And then, before that (8:15), Grassy Noll, the most famous of all Mmmmmm’s, a species formerly inhabiting the Great Lake area of Herman Park. No longer. Now friend Wheeler originally questioned him about selling out his kind, but he denies it, despite being the only true Mmmmmm left after successfully transferring over to virtual reality using his massive wealth and status as bargaining chips to the Great God of the Great Lake in ’64, just after the JFK debacle he was also responsible for, a warm-up act some called it. Like Wheeler, although she was only echoing what she’d heard at the time. “He took a *shot* for you,” she grilled beyond cooking and into simply burning to a crisp. Crisp Lake crisp. Grassy was use to the heat, though, and took Wheeler’s best (return) shot in stride, deflecting it a little bit up and to the right like he was good at — he was *fractally* good at, in fact, able to whirl it down into a vortex hole if needed, out of sight and also out of mind to those swirling all around, still trying and failing to become a singularity like that. Bay City was renamed John Fitzgerald Kennedy City because of it but that was only Alaska. Things happen differently it’s so cold up there, far away from the heat of the grilling and burning. It was a displacement, you see. And because of it “America the Beautiful” became the national anthem instead of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” But no one remembered, no one knew, Marilyn (Lichen Roosevelt) least of all because she was so close to the subject, a tree for forest deal-i-o.

Baker slid a Krings over to Wheeler past the face of Al, the second to arrive after Jinx Doll at 8:05 and the last member of the Table to be brought up in this here post. He has 3 faces, actually. That’s the story we must go into next.

(to be continued)

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Entrance

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“For the life of me, Old Mabel, I can’t *see it*.”

“I’m saying: turn around please Baker Bloch. You’re looking the wrong way. Look at where *I’m* looking.”

“I *am* Old Mabel. “Nothing is there. Nothing at all.”

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“Something is appearing inside,” said Old Mabel, peering down.

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—–

“Then I woke up, Baker Bloch. Another dream about the forest. At the tree where Urch disappeared 2 nights before. 125/125.”

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“The big eucalyptus tree, yeah. Big enough to hide a man the size of me inside.”

“That tree is a portal.”

“Maybe they all are,” responds Baker. “The eucalyptus, the brown cypress, the green cypress. All along that line. And then Unch himself (or herself) at 168/168. Still haven’t met Unch, er, face to face?”

“No.”

“How about now?” Baker offers. “It’s nighttime after all.”

“You guys aren’t talking about those woods again, are you?” asks Furry Karl, walking up with another Krings beer for Baker Bloch. “I still don’t like that kind of talk in my bar. I’m up here in SoSo Mall because of it. Just to get a *little* further away from those trees. So they can’t listen in. Careful with that wine glass, baby doll,” he then says to Old Mabel. “It’s been Spillsville around here.”

“I will,” she replies, and then looks at Baker Bloch again. A vision of a double headed Winfield flashes through her mind. Fused. Fire. So much fire.

“I suppose you heard Karoz is back,” says Karl, changing the subject. “Back from space. Still doing the bidding of that demon Wheeler.”

“Shhh,” reprimands Baker. “Don’t say that too loud.”

‘What… *demon*?” speaks Karl defiantly. “She’s over on that island of hers now. She can’t hear us. The *woods* might be able to hear us, but she can’t. I think we have bigger problems if people are starting to dream about that place. It’s 1968 all over again. Treestock.”

“You know so much about local history, Karl,” says Baker.

“I do,” responds Karl quickly.

“Someone should interview you,” completes Baker.

“I’ll do it,” volunteers Old Mabel, raising her hand. Baker wonders if she might be a little drunk tonight. She’s not use to drinking wine, but she purposely spurned her usual lemonade, saying she needed to lay off the sweets to see if it was affecting her dreams. Maybe she’s just trying to numb her brain into a good night’s sleep.

“Well, that’s awfully sweet of you deary.”

“I’m *serious*,” she emphasized. “I want to do it. Let’s set up a date now, while we’re talking about it. If we wait it might be too late.”

Baker thinks he sees Old Mabel sway a bit in her seat. “Maybe we better get you home,” he says, standing up.

Old Mabel shakes her head. “I’m not going back home. I’m not laying down on that couch. I’m not *dreaming* tonight. I don’t want to dream. I want to stay awake. Baker, please stay awake with me. Until sunrise. Then everything will be all right. It’s 2 o’clock now. Sunrise in 3, 4 hours. Stay with me. Hold me.” She falls from her stool and softly sprawls out on the floor. “I’m okay,” she declares, but can’t get up.

“Come on Mabel,” says Baker, offering a hand. “Let’s go home.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0317, Heterocera, Rubi^

most likely probably still

9:30 pm.

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“The usual please, Furry Karl.”

“Coming right up, Baker Bloch.” Karl reaches into the cooler behind him a pulls out a tall can of Krings, popping it open and positioning it on the counter. Baker partakes.

“Ahh, good beer after a long hard day of work, eh Karl?”

“I suppose. I don’t drink myself.”

“Oh right,” says the male Baker. “The farming incident.”

“And the prostitutes. And killing that guy over in Bennington… besides all the other stuff done there.”

“Well, that’s all red liquid under the bridge for you Furry Karl. Clean sweep in this here Collagesity. New beginnings. Here’s to new beginnings.” He raises his beer.

“I can’t toast with you, but I’ll second that anyway. Listen, um, Baker. I can’t really talk much tonight. As you can see (Furry Karl looks around), the bar’s pretty busy.”

“I noticed that. Demon Days.”

“Yup. Gates of hell opened wide this weekend.”

Baker Bloch also looks around. “None in here at the moment I can spot, though.”

“Oh, they’ve been here. The mall’s been invested with them. Especially the Santas. I’ve counted at least 3. So… enjoy yourself here. Drinking alone tonight?” Furry Karl tacks on.

“No. Old Mabel will be joining me. We’re going to talk about her new living quarters — Spongebub’s former home.”

“Good, good.” A bald headed demon enters the bar and sits down at the last stool; starts to play computer cards as both Furry Karl and Baker try not to stare. “Okay, gotta run,” Karl says, moving toward him.

—–

11:15 pm.

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“I’m sorry once more I’m so late, Mr. Bloch. It’s just that Unch was there (!). I could see him finally. And from that perch on the southwest corner.”

“Next to Perch, yeah you told me.”

“Sorry.” Old Mabel realized that she was repeating herself in the excitement. “I dare not fully approach him yet. It is a him, correct?”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” Baker responds. “I’m not sure he’s — or she’s — anything. Like the typical plant, I suppose. Minus ferns?”

“Mosses, maybe,” Old Mabel offers. “I’m still getting familiar with terra firma flora and fauna.”

“Right. You should have been here earlier, Old Mabel. Place was jumping. I think Furry Karl will be alright in this new location. It’s just so… in the middle of things.”

“Malls are special places,” agreed Old Mabel, taking a sip of her lemonade. “Well lighted. You can accidentally bump into your friends and neighbors without having to telephone them up.”

“Good point,” agrees Baker. “You get the social niceties out of the way without a social commitment.”

“I’m learning your ways.” Old Mabel smiles at him, studying his rugged orange face and dead white eyes. Yes, he’s still most likely the one, she thinks. Despite demon Jiff offering to change over his body to a larger and greener variety. Despite Snowbob and the day before yesterday. In the closet.

—–

1:00 am.

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“You’re so strange, having to sit with your back to the wall if anyone else is in a room with you.”

“One demon left around,” Baker Bloch whispers to Baker Blinker. “And it has to be here.” The small cyan demon squeaks in return — good ears on this one.

“Good that Old Mabel is getting adjusted. Maybe now she can get over this dislike of Wheeler, since she’s getting over, well, *you*.”

“I don’t think she likes Wheeler impersonating me at times,” Bloch agrees.

Baker Blinker sighs. “So where does that put *us*?”

“Same ol’ same ol'” the male Bake responds. “We are the parents of all that’s around us.” He waves his arm.

“I don’t think Karoz is coming back,” Baker Blinker says, tears starting to form in her eyes.

“Oh sure he is,” Baker Bloch attempts to comfort. “Wheeler’s probably sent him off on some crazy assignment to retrieve an ancient diary again.”

“She’s still looking for Number One, yes,” a sniffing Baker Blinker agrees, taking a sip of coffee with a shaky hand. “Muff-Bermingham was a bust. Plus the war started while we were there. Greens versus Grays. The one Little is involved in. A shame Old Mabel hasn’t heard a thing from him since he left.”

“Hasn’t she?” The male Baker eyes the female Baker knowingly.

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