Tag Archives: Marsha “Pink” Krakow^^+++++

warden

Some of the orange trees had leaves over there and some did not, but she didn’t have time to figure all that out. Pace rapid, she was on a mission. To find X at his Rockaway Beach mansion and tell him to release her daughter or pseudo-daughter and that she had learned her lesson well enough. She was the mayor after all. Surely he would listen to her, despite being one of those uppity upper men she so detested. Golden Goddess had taught her a valuable lesson yesterday. Surface appearances are often deceiving.

She’d heard he was tall but she couldn’t have guessed *how* tall. A true Slenderman he was during the Halloween season. Duncan Avocado was sitting with him when she entered. She thought Duncan was dead, oh well. That’s the way of characters in these here photo-novels, she realized, staring at his familiar red skeleheart necklace and red hands, as if ripe from a kill. They disappear, they reappear just as quickly sometimes. But sometimes it takes a while too. Like with Avocado. She thought back to kissing the orange on the navel — or the naval on the Orange. Navelencia, the act of.

Which one to approach first? It was as if X was expecting her and had sent for Duncan. Yes, that must be it. Maybe Golden Goddess even warned him of her visit. Or maybe Golden as Roy Coy, not remembering again what she did. One way to find out. She chooses left over right, familiar over strange.

“Duncan *Avocado*,” she cried, and even was tempted to hug the black man as he rose from the ottoman. And so she did.

(to be continued)

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00400605

“The good, God fearing people of Utah will never allow a merger with such a degraded place as the Omega continent, my dear human, Wheeler (ha). You have paid for my services for nothing except sound advice.”

“25 right,” spoke Wheeler about the cost from atop a nearby game. “I can’t believe you tricked me like that — making me believe there was such a person as Roy Coy.”

“Well the ridiculous name coupled with a ridiculous form should have been a tip off. Along with the golden color. Like me!”

“So what next?… *psychic*. Halloween is over. We’re back in Meat City for round 06.”

Golden Goddess’ Ms. Pac-Man ate a power pellet, making the ghost chasing her turn blue and be chased instead. “There’s always the library. While it’s there. Might as well use it to your advantage. Male dominated literature within, obviously, but some hidden gem could appear. Say, a book about a certain mountain (she foresees)?” The last blue ghost was overtaken and eaten, end of game.

And as well, there was the further *careful* exploration of Meat City itself. Wheeler knew not to change into her daughter or pseudo-daughter for all that.

In a newly constructed theatre across the street from the arcade, she waits alone in a guest-of-honor golden chair for a show that may never start.

Back to the library. “Aah, this must be it (!)”

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00400602

“I predict, Eddie, her Edward, that right in this seat Mr. Coy will appear soon and make a deal. I saw it–”

“Yeah yeah yeah, in your cards. Which apparently *I’ll* never see again.”

“*Unless…” Golden Goddess Nas pitched. 2nd date. More karma to pay but it might be worth it. Eddie looks down at lovely Marsha “Pink” Krakow, still singing away on the lime green karaoke stage inside. “Crazy Train” now, another crowd favorite since Osbourne is a local hero. Then just afterwards, her signature song. “Jackie Pink,” fully changed back to the original by this point. Her prison sentence is over. Golden Goddess speaks again as if for her.

“Are we on? Are we good to go?” “Crazy Train” was over. The belt comes off.

(to be continued)

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00400601

“A partnership?! That’s, frankly, something I didn’t expect from this meeting (!). Say Golden Goddess has already signed on to all this?”

“Yeah. Said she foresaw it in her cards.”

“Nas too?”

“Right. Start of a chain. Gang, I suppose.” Marsha “Pink” Krakow, the originator of all, slightly smiles, harking back to prison days and years. Doesn’t want to go back there. Thus: this.

“They’ll try to crack down on us,” professional dancer Bun Bun warns. “The men of this town. ‘How *dare* the women try to organize,’ and so on.”

“My mother can handle that,” came the reply. “She’s still the mayor of this here meat town after all.” Marsha knew she was negotiating a deal with Utah as they speak. Revisionist historian named Roy Coy who has a big brain about his head. He’ll need it!

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00400512

He had returned but he found himself more and more excluded from Ozma’s inner circle after a lukewarm reentry. “It’s *temporary*, dear,” she kept repeating to him. “I brought you back after all. You’re *here*; back in Oz, back to patrolling the Yellow Brick Road. And boy dear howdy that took some smooth talking to the inner council to get done,” she often reminded him. “So be *grateful*. You’re not out *there*.”

But it’s been months again, maybe years. When would his so called probation end here in the cornfield far away from a central power he was use to? Contemplation like this naturally led him to check the clock that always beats the times in his chest. 7:15 in Quadlingland, 3:15 in Munchkinland. And in the center, the middle, well: heartbreak.

He watched her slip away in the stalks, reminding him of that old Oklahoma song about a quirky little alien who comes to Earth and can’t get enough of corn, all types. He involuntarily begins to sing it in his head.

I like cornflakes, corndogs
I like corn bread and cornstarch
I like the band Korn and popcorn, I like all kinds of corn
ALL KINDS OF CORN!

He can’t recall the rest and, anyway, Ozma had already disappeared down the rows. Their meetings were almost as brief as in the Lost Forest when he was truly exiled. Now it’s still a false exile, an ostracizing by the rest. Scarecrow barely talked to him, feigning being constantly tied up with businesses of the mind. Lion similarly excused himself when encountering the famed metal being, saying he had to face down or have a tangle with this or that adversary who still lived some distance from wherever they were standing at the time. And Dorothy… he doesn’t even like to think of Dorothy.

—–

“I thought we were going to replace Dorothy with *me*,” spoke up the precious precocious child listening in on Marsha “Pink” Krakow’s latest version of her novel with a working title of “Lost Path of Oz,” changed from the earlier “Forgotten Road of Oz.” “After all, L. Frank Baum’s greatest goal was to please a child. And what better way to carry on that tradition than to cast me, a child as child can be, in the leading role of your book. Similarly, Vain and Artery Boyy replaces Lion, and Rock” — she looks over at him, dumbly counting the fingers on both hands over and over to make sure they’re the same on each — “well, we’ll work on him,” she admitted, sharing a smile with Pink about the irony.

“Maybe,” gleaned Pink, “maybe *you* should replace the Scarecrow, Toddles. And Rock can play Dorothy — you know what I mean.”

Toddles as the brains of the operation. She instantly likes! She automatically sees it is the right change to affect.

“No one is going to play ANYTHING until I get some ANSWERS!” Toddle’s grandma Alice Farrowheart had shown up at the reading in the so called Center Hole of Big Sandy. With a loaded shotgun.

Marsha quickly checked to see if this was in the book as well.

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00400511

“Your orange-ish hair… so pretty.” He couldn’t help but run his fingers through the semi-transparent ponytail to test its texture.

“Well thanks I guess Al Orange,” she replied, regretting that she sat so close to him now. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Before she realized this was just another one of those mannequins — they all were. No information here to retrieve. And she needed info. So she could get the heck out of Dodge.

“Yes, you’re so pretty overall,” spoke over Dafney Duck, a quack at the doctoring business. Two kneecap replacements just last week. And only none of them needed it. “Why don’t you put on a bathing suit and really, truly join in with us. I have an extra back in the boat, I believe.”

“I *don’t* *do* bathing suits,” she spoke firmly, leaning back and edging away from creepy Al, short for Alvin she assumed. “Not since…” She cut herself off. Couldn’t talk about Mountain Lake yet. Or her actual mother still mayor back in Meat City. But she certainly wasn’t ready to go back to prison. Thus: here.

The host of the party sitting directly behind her — Sandy Hook — then said something. Bitterly. “I wonder if *Edward*… would like to see you in one of those.” Who was this really? Marsha “Pink” Krakow still? Or…

“Coke is real,” uttered the last person at the hot tub, the 6th of 6. Friends? Not really. But the appellation still applied.

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00400508

In her mind, the 3 within settled down and organized themselves, Marsha “Pink” Krakow on top and up front again. As such, she approaches the effigy of the crocogator in the southeast corner of Sirens Isle.

“I was wrong to seek the treasure in the sea, Carrcassonnee (she says her true name). Nothing but pyrite here.”

But then she spied the handy teleporter next to the false treasure chest and was lured away again.

MEANWHILE…

The crocogator takes to the land and moves inside a different southeast corner to give Bart the news.

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00400507 (Flashback Friday)

00080601

Walking through the arch once more, [Tropp] traveled far from Braynard’s Place to a 4 sim land some call Eden itself.

Whilst sitting against a log beside a grove of nice, pink trees, he is inspired to write a song about New Island’s Pipewold and being X-ed out.

But he was not alone. For the Alices were there.

And the Rabbits.

And some others.

All in all, a Grand Old Time was had of it.

Mention of Tropp passing through the past-future arch again, you’ll notice. And 2 Alices here, although yet different again from the 2 Alices in Big Sandy now, Tart and Farrowheart for the latter pair. The 2 earlier ones: no surname that I recall; undifferentiated in that way.

The mentioned “some others” didn’t matter. Or… did they?


Madam Mexico

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“Wobbly…

“… she was in the head, just having finished her stiff drink. But she knew.”

Laura was reporting back to Dolores, the Big Boss of Big Sandy. Just across Big Channel she was. Somewhere. Laura had her phone number at least. She continued speaking into her cell after receiving message after message earlier. “Call me”, “Call me”, “Call me”, they read. “We need to talk,” was the implication, “we need to catch up. I’m here to help.”

She was on my council, perhaps as a counsel.

—–

“I had a dream there was not one giant bug but many, weaving a grid so regular it acted as a prison. I was back in Meat City, the Utah part after Broadwater and Rockaway Beach and the Osbournes and Kuradov but before the big bend away from all that at Rhodenwald. The part that’s *locked up* with (Utah’s) Kamas in other words.”

Kamas reduced to Kama was too close to Karma, she knew. And Laura also from a defunct place called Strong Karma — resonance.

“You must focus on Big Sandy right now as best as you can,” she advised. Until the end of section 05 of this here present photo-novel was the hidden meaning. I think.

—–

I knew the Silver King Grill was a stand in for Strong Karma (SK). And although defunct, I knew where its spirit lived on, then. New Eden.

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no humbug

“You don’t understand the corruption of Butterfingers. He and his big ol’ parachute came down from the sky and cast a dark shadow over the whole mountaintop, likewise yellow Brick Road, *everything*.” Spoken from the heart. Laura knew a lot about the Land of Oz. She, after all, use to live there. Right before they turned off the lights.

“*Money*,” she followed, looming over them and casting her own black shadow. “Money ruined it then and money’s ruining it again. Cheapskatedness,” she made up a word about the issue.

Earlier:

“2000 linden dollars,” he said in his nasal, boyish way about the price to custom spray paint her dune buggy, careful not to cross the southeast corner of the property else the spell might be broken. Or so the Wizard told him.

“Oh that’ll be fine,” she said dreamily. After she saw the finished product and received the exorbitant bill she kept asking why why why?? Magic was afoot here, she then thought correctly. And not the white variety.

Mrs. Ordinary felt the need to go over and tell new bestie Pink all about the latest Big Sandy mystery/sorcery. What better way to do it than to show her the revamped bug up close and personal. But the reaction was unexpected.

“I *love* it — except for the price of course. Let’s take it for a spin — say, the tiny restaurant again?”

When Marsha watched Mrs. Ordinary — Ginger (Ginger?) — pay the bill once more, including another bottle of expensive liquor, she got an idea. “Here’s a theory — do you suppose that word has gotten around Big Sandy about how much money you spend? Attracting the scheming boy?”

And this is when overhearing Laura at the next table came over and did her spiel.

“*Wait*,” exclaimed Pink afterwards. “Did you just say he was *yellow*?”

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