Tag Archives: Marsha “Pink” Krakow^^

This cat was a little better trained.

Barry was sleeping on a different couch but in the same old place: the old Same Place, a restaurant adjacent to the Pink Motel that had a duplicate or doppleganger in Tinseltown. This is what happened to him as an acne spotted kid when he and his mother had an argument, often about grades and schooling, sometimes about church and religion, occasionally about the status of the world in general. Marsha “Star” Pink was an optimist, Barry a born pessimist. Or was it the opposite? Heck, let’s jettison the whole idea of discussing the world in general. Let’s focus on local. Barry was sleeping on a different but familiar couch. It reminded him of the one in Norm the Cashier’s Flower Shop but that’s a future memory instead of the past.

He wakes up remembering something awful happened. Bullfrog, a friend of the family, had been killed over in NWES City, known then as New WES City before the shortening and way before the CITY decided to remake itself as a town to counter all the copycat but obviously inferior “cities” spring all inside and around it. Like Meat City, like Zen City before (destroyed by an atomic blast much like the one pictured on that vending machine in the above photo). Like Collagesity, with sity equaling city. You know. These are not Collagesity photo-novels any longer, but something else. Sunklands for the moment because that’s where *my* home is. Not Rubi as in the past. Not Fordham, or Urqhart over on the Corsica continent.

Pink knew Bullfrog from her mother who was green Green. An EEL of a man is often how her mother described him, but she was conservative leaning. Bullfrog was progressive and that’s a fact, and that fact which got him killed by a red headed and red hatted evil entity known as Lu Ellen Hutchison (or Hutchinson) played by actress Alice Frame in Act II. And now she’s back as similarly red topped Wendy. Barry DeBoy knows nothing of Wendy now, or that he is directly sleeping with a mortal enemy back in Black Ice in the present. He is ensconced in the past, in the dream. Bullfrog has just died by gunfire and his mother Marsha “Pink” Krakow, not yet a Star — neither Trek nor Wars — remains in shock, and Barry along with her. This was Uncle Bully to him, a friendly not hostile moniker. How could this happen?

(to be continued)

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Pink lives?

Aah, the old sign remains.

And the cats! So many cats. Now to dare try the manager’s door. Hell’s Here!, though. He attempts to ignore the warning and return to his childhood. Hello There! instead (!).

“Hello there!” he finds himself automatically uttering as he passes from outer to inner.

To his great disappointment, he just then wakes up for real, the presence of his mother unresolved.

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Barry 02 01

He woke up somewhere very different than before. Twilight. The lamp had not been turned off from the night. The cat Nappy purred beside him, half aware that his master had awoken. 1/2 and 1/2 once more, but I’m suppose to limit (that expression) to one per photo-novel section at the most, as prescribed by my word therapist Bob the Knob who I don’t really like that much so I may insert it more. Or less. Damn Bob. Recommended by Richard, who I haven’t talked to since session 3. Or was it section 3? NO, there was no Richard in the story.

I’m admittedly getting a little confused about all the names (finally! the reader might utter here). Barry DeBoy who just woke up here in a strange but then very familiar land shares a first name with Barry X. Vampire who arrived in our text in photo-novel 18 — and also *writing*, at least partially, said photo-novel. He was a creator like me within the pages posts of his own creation. Mirror within mirror, etc. But the mirrorings seem to be increasing lately. It’s time, for example, to face the fact and the music that the two Barry’s in our novels — let me check (checks) — yes still only *2* Barry’s. Anyway, they are probably the same, and my rational — well, I won’t go into it in detail but let it just play out in the text. Returning to the awakening DeBoy version, then…

Took him a minute to realize where he was after gaining consciousness but as he looked around at the tall, brown grass, the dilapidated buildings and signs, it dawned on him, as the sun, let’s say, gained height over a yonder horizon. Home. Maw may even be here, even older than before. Some called her Pink, some just called her Star, but her actual name was Marsha. Marsha “Star” Pink.  All three were correct, I suppose. But what am I doing here thinking about names? I must think about *action*. Barry tried to recall where this shed was in relation to his house where he grew up as DeBoy, who started as simple D-Boy (one who makes a lot of D’s, etc.) but then changed in stature within the community as he received the tie from… who? He recalls something about another Barry. Himself? he realizes. From the future or from the past?

Suisan might know. If she’s still around — or still alive for that matter. Always wearing that mask while growing up, always afraid of the germs and viruses swarming, she put it, in the air all around us. And now her fears have come to fruition. The Jasper virus, the mother, is here. He peers in the direction he remembers that his mother lives in. Home. She could still be there.

But then another whole series of memories locked into place. His mother had died! Along with Suisan, along with a friend named Brown. Along with another friend named Green. Maybe someone named Olive, even. This was a land of… he looked down at his hands. He attempted to swat one with the other but it only passed through. Yet another dream. His mother was dead but then she was alive, at least during *parts* of his childhood. How could this be?

(to be continued)

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X-man

It’s time you learned the ties of TILE to the Korean Channel, young Kola.”

“Kolya, actually,” the young man, perhaps the young apprentice corrected. He turned to the red clad guy on the mat beside him at the pit fire. “Who are you, sir — really? I know you’re Santa and all but that’s just a costume, a disguise even, if you will.”

The man dressed as Santa chuckled with this, jovial in the moment. “I will call you Pepi Kola you young jokester. See, Pepi? The sacred islands spread out before you from this viewpoint. And it has a heart, a Sacred Heart.” He now looks up in the sky, channeling a trance it seems. “Pink is still with us,” he speaks after a pause, fire crackling louder before them. “And Brown… they haven’t left this plane yet.” He stares back at the sea, at the islands, at the *center*. “Resolution.”

“Well, that’s great and all — I don’t know who this Pink or this Brown is –”

The Santa man snickers again. “Oh you will, young man — young apprentice.”

“Apprentice?” Kolya questions. He has not bought into this Santa dude’s new name for him atall, but he does likewise stare toward what he’s been told are the sacred isles, looking for a heart. He is beginning to see.

—–

“Jesus that was loud!”

“I know. And it’s just starting.” The plane flies into the ship. Pink and Brown are dead after all.

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buds

She was about to walk right past him on her determined journey to the almost vacated clown amusement park when he called over. “Duncy be not here any longer, arrgh. He be passing about 5 hours ago now. One way in, one way out. 5 hours be too long in that place (*squawk*). My blind parrot over there beyond camera sweep be agreeing with me, matie (pause). Marsha matie.”

Marsha “Star” Pink halted forward progress and look over at the chatty figure suddenly saying her name, hand with smoke dangerously close to a smoking fire. Pirate — in fact…

“Jim the Bastard,” issued Marsha, taking him in. “I haven’t seen you since–”

“Storybrook?” he completed, voice roughened by cigarettes and sea. She hadn’t heard that name in a long *long* time. What happened to her? Well, for one thing, *death*.

—–

15 minutes later, Suisan also came walking through the tall brown grass. “Come here, you,” Marsha called over, smoke in hand as well now. “We gotta talk.”

“*Sorry* I’m late!”

“Never mind that…”

(to be continued)

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missing

“Well I’m worried because he hasn’t come home yet.” Indistinguishable speech. “Yes, I just got back into town.” Indistinguishable speech. “Stomach Land, right.” Indistinguishable. “Yes, should be good eating tonight — listen, just meet me over here at the motel. Is that alright?” Indistinguishable speech. “*Sorry*. Is — that — all — *right*?” Laughing, perhaps derisive. “I know I’m teaching him bad lessons; just get over here.” She hung up the receiver. She kind of slammed the receiver back into its carriage, actually. 1/2 and 1/2. She turned toward the Big Boy in the southwest corner of the sim and shook her head. So obsessed was her little dunce of a boy with it. “I’m going to grow up to be *this* tall!” he exclaimed one time, juxtaposing his own diminutive figure with the much larger one in an exact 1:1 match from Pink’s perspective. He knew how to manipulate the angles just right to get the effect. He was indeed a gifted child in many ways, his mother knew. But not schooling. And Marsha “Star” Pink’s lack of same didn’t help atall. At — all.

(to be continued?)

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times

He’d been here before. There were less dogs, however. And something about cats. Yeo. Maybe just “meow”, as in an exclamation. Of what, though? Then the color green entered his mind and wouldn’t leave. And other colors followed: Beige, Brown, Olive… Pink. “Pink!” he called out.

—–

Marsha “Star” Pink came out of the motel lobby and looked around for the origin of her name. But there was nothing to see but animals.

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Pipe Room 03

Her future besties Tronesisa “Blue Eyes” and Duncan “Avocado” were already there, playing up a storm. She realized a Void needed to be filled. The drum set beckoned. She already had drumsticks sticking out her back pocket. She tended to carry them everywhere she went now. The drumsticks were sure to go.

She sits in the middle, sticks at ready.

Tom Banks reenters the room. “Oh, so you’re trying to get out of this through a trance, huh.” He draws his gun again.

There was only one thing left to do for Marsha “Pink” Krakow. “Hit it!” she shouted at the top of her lungs while the sticks traveled down. The whiteness takes her.

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Pipe Room 02

She tried to see better through the tears. The girl in front of her couldn’t be see-through. Could she? Unless…

“Frankie?” she almost whispered. “Frankie — is it — you?” She struggles some more against the pipe, then looks again. The apparition persisted.

“There is that aspect,” Jenny allowed. “I am not dead, though. I appear through *time*.” She let that sink in.

“Time?” Marsha “Pink” Krakow was crying harder again. Jenny knew she was in danger of losing contact. She exposed more. “Not space, because it essentially happened in this very spot once more.” Did this help? Marsha looked like she was going to fall into a black hole, never to be found. An emotional hole inside of her kept whirling everything she knew and understood into itself. This is what Jenny must save her from.

“Options, Marsha,” she exposed more. “You are a *Star*. You *can* be reborn from the Great Void.  Think, Marsha, think. Dwell on your future. See yourself drumming like you’ve never drummed before, in front of a large, *worshiping* audience. *See* yourself there.”

Marsha “Pink” Krakow fought hard against the Void. She entered a time, a space, not yet recorded, not yet known about. Tom Banks couldn’t find her here, she realized. She entered the club…

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Pipe Room 01

Her friend Frankie “Beige/Brown” Hockentopper was dead. She knew it by the way murderer Tom Eugene Banks spoke of her. “Frankie *was* like that too,” he mentioned during the last visit about the similar ways they both hurled back the insult “f-ck you a-hole” when he asked them to do him a favor. Like, “*shut* UP.” Brown even went so far as to sing the entirety of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” after the final insult just to rile him up more. Not a really good idea, given what he did next. “Mary never had a Lamb,” he spoke over the body with smoking gun after cutting the third and last stanza a bit short. “They’re (the lambs) all gone,  Frankie, leaving dreams exposed — best left unrecorded.” He snaps a picture with his polaroid camera. He turned toward the Magic Red Door still on the wall. Igor can clean this mess up. He must find the *next* star — quickly, before she disappears from Storybrook altogether.

And so here she is. Attached to the same pipe as friend Frankie was. Then another appears, not Igor but a girl. Not really the ghost of recently deceased Frankie, although there’s an aspect of that involved. Instead: Jenny, who grows up to be none other than Your Mama.

“I’m here… to help.”

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