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

October 28, 2023 · 2:36 am

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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October 27, 2023 · 10:43 am

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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October 26, 2023 · 2:59 pm

“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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October 24, 2023 · 10:41 pm

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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October 23, 2023 · 9:43 am

blog post now

“It was a naval kiss but not that kind of kiss. From River — you remember. You almost put it in a blog post back then. Novel 39 I believe. Jack Benny the comedian-violinist would not be proud that you have moved into 40. He wished to remain (in) 39 all of his life!”

Once again Marsha started to ponder All Orange, thinking back to the research she did in her old room over in Meat City on the Omega continent, Mother feeding her free sandwiches and whatnot throughout it all. Probably drugged as well, she concludes as she’s thinking of it, reviewing it. Distracted by the computer, she knew she wouldn’t notice. Mother. *Mother*.

She bounced up out of the lounger. Mother put down her second apple she was working on, having thrown away the core of the first in the beach grass or bushes just over there. 1st green, this one red. She had progressed from better to best by the taste of it. Or worse to worst, depending on which way you’re looking at the situation.

“Stew dogs’ ready!” called Eddie from the red hot grill. “WELLL. I hope you’re still hungry after all that fruit,” spoke pseudo-daughter Marsha down to Wheeler with this. Wheeler, on her part, was going to see eating the latest apple through to the bitter end. She intended to eat the core this time. She was going to finish it all.

But not until after the dogs. Dogg walks up. “Rat you reating Reeler?”

“None of your business mutt,” she dismissed him out of hand.

“Rogg, actually,” spoke Dogg, thinking she just misstated his actual name. Moving on…

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October 22, 2023 · 10:41 am

00400501

When Marsha “Pink” Krakow returned to what she knew was her true home now, Big Sandy on the oldest Bellissaria continent, her Mother was waiting. With a big surprise. “I bought this for you,” she said to her shocked daughter after she arrived, indicating the trailer. “Pink, you see, or as close as I could get to that hot variation you prefer.” Edward, her Eddie, was already blackening his patented vegetable stew dogs on what Wheeler told him was his new grill. He was already sold.

“Oh. And that pink scooter you’re standing beside! What do you think?”

Marsha was thinking of *price*, not necessarily money price but emotional price. And here it comes.

“I can see you’re speechless, dearest. Come sit beside me and we’ll talk.” Wheeler patted the lounging couch across from her and then pulled out an apple to eat. “Price?” Marsha wanted to ask her so bad. “Price price price?” And here it comes.

“Have you talked to Serenity since you’ve been here (chomp, chew chew chew)? Never mind, dear, I know you have. You told her about Shelley, my *actual* daughter.”

“*I’m* your daughter,” she wanted to protest at this point, but knew it technically wasn’t true — in a way. Shelley provided the body and added a lot to the personality as well. But Brown was also there inside. Conscience? Mere gestures? She wasn’t quite sure yet about the so-called 3rd component, the last of a trilogy. And then herself up front and on top of course, resurrected from what happened in photo-novel 19 that she doesn’t like to think about a lot. Cook for the Ozmo Devils. Dead in the head in bed like Jed. “Why didn’t you tell me about Serenity?” she actually said aloud. “That she wasn’t her cousin but her *wife*?”

“Oh it’s just one of those things that slips the mind (chomp; chew, chew, chew). Lots of important stuff going on up there,” and here she pauses in her apple eating to tap on her forehead. “I’m still the mayor of that damn Meat City and its dominant male energy. *I’m* more male than them, despite the body, the femininity,” she decided to put it. Marsha understood. Her mother had to put the town council (etc.) in their place or they’d gain the upper hand again, the blame misogynists. Dominant sex, *pheh*. Marsha had to do the same with her Eddie in a lesser way. It’s just how men are raised in our society in part, she figured. So she didn’t blame him *all* that much for his own, lesser brand of the disease of the mind.

Marsha had to ask this next”: “W-why, then, oh why… did you put me in prison? Turn me into a *doll* Feed me those drugs through my head to think that I *wasn’t* in prison but next door, singing karaoke until the wee hours of the night? With the fake doll looking on?”

“Rockaway Beach?” Wheeler started her answer, citing the name of the first place which was also its location. “Kenzie’s Korner in Kuradov?” she said the same about the second. Now the circumstances.

(to be continued)

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October 20, 2023 · 9:12 am

00400415

Ketchup Tom knew this day would come. End of gig; time to go. But what is time here? It was as if he’d just arrived.

He stared at what he remembered was a sim-skipper outside the window in the harbour. “Should’ve come in on that instead of Marsha’s VW,” he muttered to himself. Marsha was in the shower. *No*: Marsha insisted on renting the place next door instead of staying in the same apartment with Ketchup. She certainly hadn’t given up on Eddie, her Edward, back in Big Sandy — which we’ll be returning to soon.

Ketchup Tom knew he was The Musician. He knew he could come in but, once here, couldn’t leave, unlike so many before him. Because he was different. He and the town were like two cut out pieces of paper stuck together. Like fused leaves of an old waterlogged book found floating in the harbour. “*No*,” he insisted just as vehemently back to Marsha in the rental place next door when he came to tell her. “You have your place and I have mine. Here.”

Yellow House, he knew. He wasn’t going anywhere. Marsha would have leave Gaston by herself.

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October 18, 2023 · 1:43 am

a punk is born (zooming in on yellow (1st thing in the morning))

Many famous musicians have walked the roads of Gaston, and many famous musicians have left from such roads. Not George, though: he remained glued to the town through his car as it were, white in the daylight here but silver at night, as silver as Maxwell’s Hammer.

And now his soul has returned as the strumming punk known as Ketchup Tom because of his red mohawk if not visa versa, Marsha “Pink” Krakow his new drummer in tow, owner of her own VW Bug and one she perhaps is glued to as well, and even perhaps the *same* bug. Paired silver and gold as we’ve mentioned before — or white and yellow in the daytime. The Portal. Mimosa. Probably dusk and dawn as I’m writing and thinking this out.

George also existed here as Duncan Avocado, a character very important to the blog and attached photo-novels up until and including 31. 3-1 (March 1). His birthday which was also kind of his death day, at least in my eyes. He lay in a blue-yellow tent on the floor of the Collagesity library after that, a virtual structure last seen in Constantynople which has recently been destroyed/derezzed, with a final friend in the library *still* a friend — but simply too busy with a young kid to have much time for anything else, including our promised hikes. Important thing: I don’t hold it against him. And I should probably get over my disappointment with Duncan too. Put it in the rear view window. Thing is, we’re *doppelgangers*.

Red blue yellow houses in a row to begin. Again.

“Ugh, my head. W-where am I? And *who* am I?”

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October 15, 2023 · 9:25 am

00400411

“Definitely silver,” he rechecked through the past observing tool locally known as the chronovishmach. “So definitely George.”

—–

In the past, Hucka Doobie was eating alone. But in this alternate version she had the guts to walk up to Marion Star Harding and ask him on a date. Just after this she continued her guttiness and told Ozzie Osbourne, another star, that his gig was up in Gaston and that he’d have to return to Meat City for future concerts like these. Still on an adrenaline rush she goes back to Marion at the bar and gives him a kiss full on the lips, saying that’s to tide him over until tonight. Just arrived Ketchup Tom, aka The Musician (aka *George*) walks into the club, wanting to check everything out while Marsha was unloading the car, especially the structure of the place, trying to determine if his music would collapse it like before with that huge piece of coal for a bar in West Virginie. Hucka Doobie assured him that all had been prepared and that a non-collapsing spell had been cast by a local wizard. Club Rhino: definitely at a crossroads between various dimensions. Why Hucka Doobie was here in the first place, she finally determined after much lamenting and gnashing of teeth about her “entrapment” in Gaston. “Damn you Tammy Whatammy!” she cursed aloud a lot at first. “Damn you evil, conniving Casey One Hole!”, the root person to blame since Tammy was just following orders when she pushed her through that imprisoning collage back in photo-novel 7. Such a long time ago. She knew alternate versions of herself existed elsewhere. But she only existed within the body, the *vessel* of this here one. And she’s tired of complaining about the darkness. “When in Rome,” and so on.


“When in Rome” (2018)

And so in this version she dines and drinks with Marion Harding instead of doing so alone. And other things have changed: no “Welcome to Mimosa” on the sign, you’ll notice in comparing the last photo of this here blog post with the one above, anything that was once golden having been lost in the transition. Silver now. Night. Dark. Welcome to Gaston.

“We better get to the gig,” Marion requested after 2 wines, hoping to move to his more standard pot soon. Levon would have some, he knew. And Levon liked his music over his money, women, anything else. He’d be at the gig for sure.

“Oh,” said disappointed Hucka to this, wishing they’d just skip to whole gig thing and move on to that other stuff she had in mind. Bases, although obviously safe at home still — home base is definitely off limits tonight. But 1st, maybe 2nd? In play, she envisioned in her mind. Was she still desirable? she couldn’t help wondering as Marion got up and she followed suit and then looked at the back of his suit as it made pleasing motions while he walked toward the Rhino.

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October 14, 2023 · 2:54 pm

00400410 (the tall and short of it)

“Alright, alright. I’ll go over and talk to him. Just stop the screaming.”

Ozzie Osbourne walked out of Gaston’s Rhino Club with more information than when he came in. He had to go back to Meat City to perform. Wise if reluctant spiritual advisor Hucka Doobie told him why. Blocked!

Changing its color from gold to silver after going through the Mimosa portal, the VW bug pulled up on the sidewalk just outside. They spotted Osbourne and Osbourne spotted them but he just kept on walking. He had no need to talk to ones luckier than him. “A gig!” Ketchup Tom messaged Marsha “Pink” Krakow back in Big Sandy, who drove her car to get there since the punk was car-less, not even a drift conquering dune buggy to his name. The small vehicle was jammed full of guitars, speakers, drums, microphones, so on, with barely enough room left over for driver and passenger. They were talking all the time over of stardom and success and making it big. The sight of Ozzie Osbourne exiting the bar doubled this down.

—–

The noise of the resulting gig was too much for Hucka Doobie, who moved outside to stare at the bug they came in, wondering if it was the same she’d seen in (Meat City?) behind the strip mall. The mayor’s daughter, she recalled, busted for drugs and imprisoned in Rockaway Beach Prison for, what was it, 40 days? Or maybe 40 years? Anyway, they turned her into a doll and that was that so this couldn’t be the same gal. Could it? Hucka Doobie ponders possibilities and impossibilities while listening to the end of “Fire Ants,” transitioned expertly into the follow up but lesser hit “Water Uncles.” Then Marsha’s part of the gig kicked in, starting with a cover of “I will Survive” by 70s pop star artist Gloria Gaynor. Relieved the noise had died down, Hucka Doobie breaks her stare from the car and heads inside again. She needed to find out the truth (“Rockaway Beach” now). She’d made way for these up and comers by telling one of the biggest stars on the planet that his stint was cancelled here in Gaston — just walked out, huffing and puffing, blown away that some small fry, backwater place could do this to him (“Crazy Train”). And he was only here as a favor to an old friend, another “Oz” mate. A Daredevil some called him. Death of a cook. The gig was suppose to be for her. And, turned out, it was (transfigured “Jackie Blue”).

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