Tag Archives: Mary Tyler/Chuckles Greentop^^====!

ecumenical matter

“So tell me about this Church of the Ood. Been a while, you know.”

“Oh things have changed. No more clown sacrifices for these good folk up here. That’s all done and in the past.”

“Explain.” He looks at the pictures up front again, merged at the frames — black and white, yin and yang, he perceives. He’s explaining the situation to himself. “One beneath it all?” he guesses.

“Yes.” Guy sure is psychic, thinks Baker Bloch again, still hanging around Gold since his wife has been delayed. Suspicious but of course he doesn’t delve deeper into a reason. The Golds always seem to sort it out despite the many issues involved now, he thinks, infidelity to name a big one on both their parts. High Infidelity, then.

“I was also thinking,” Gold theorized further, “that the clowns have been exterminated through repeated sacrifices and there’s no more reason to hate them. Because none exist.”

“Yeah, that too I suppose. 1/2 and 1/2.” Gold glared over. We weren’t suppose to use that expression past novel 25, the one that changed everything. Baker apologizes, but he only 1/2 meant it. He of course kept that fact to himself. Because — it was a little thing but such things add up to make big things — he wanted to make it okay to say that again. He wanted to honor 12 Oz Mouse expressions above all else. Now that Spider has been found inside collages again. Spider equals Skillet, he knows through Missouri. Polk County, Missouri, to be specific. Home of Uncle Joe and Aunt Zoe, humanvillians both. He didn’t return the glare but he looked over all the same. Gold — could turn into platinum at any specific turn of events. Reaction. Visit from grand-niece and now grown-up Tessa could trigger it. Because she thought him dead anyway; surprised he was still a part of the Land of the Living after Baker phoned her up on a whim. He’s curious to see what happens when they meet.

And where is Preacher Zoidboro? he thinks. 7:05 now. Everyone is here that’s here so far, everyone is anticipating results from this lone religion of town now that the clowns are gone. They have to find or at least pretend to find some sort of God or else all is still doomed.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0606, Jeogeot, Middleton^, Towerboro

00330104

I use to have a dog, Edward thought while staring down at the masked man’s he was standing uncomfortably close to. If he were in his same time zone.

Funny how he can’t recall what kind. Must be an exotic type.

—–

“Catchup,” Edward Daigle exclaimed after waking up beside Mary. “The dog’s name was…”

“Don’t say it.” A flood of memories came back for the avid fisherwoman. Pitch! How could I have forgotten. She springs up out of bed and stares down at Edward, straightening her skirt. How could *you* have forgotten.

Edward wakes up in Towerboro and, looking down at the Arkansaw book he was sleeping on, remembers to jot it all down.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0104, Jeogeot, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Towerboro, Upper Austra^

00330102

F- it. I don’t have time for a Jeogeot subplot this go around. Need to get back to Nautilus, figure out the limits of Upper Austra for one thing. Like this Schweet Secret Austrian village which makes me Smile — in the Green Between but does that mean Upper or Lower Austra? And Austria: Austra. How it got it’s name in the first place LINK. Wonder if Mary is still here (3rd Upper Austra post time-wise). I know The Musician at least popped in here too at the very beginning of novel 5 (1st Upper Austra post time-wise). Like we’re at the beginning of novel 33. Photo-novel too. But novel nonetheless.

Edward Daigle is in-between as well. Time to move forward and right or left to answer some questions. Decision branch; start of a new tree.

And just to round things out, here’s the 2nd picture related directly to Upper Austra time-wise in the (photo-)novels, which is really just a Real Life photo from a gallery building still in the area.

I, however, pretend it is instead a photo of a sprawling Our Second Lyfe urban area called Middletown, now defunct.

Middletown was on the Jeogeot continent, perhaps including the space now occupied by the town called Towerboro I just left there, hmm.

Maybe we’re not done yet with that Jeogeot subplot.

But first (walk walk walk, open door, walk)…

“Mary!” I had to exclaim. “I forgot you were actually here!”

“What can I do you for today,” she said, not recognizing me in this new guise. I decided to play along a while.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0102, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Upper Austra^

narcissist

“You’re not going to Mary… me?”

“No,” Hector Horace Howard said in response. “You are for another, alas.” He added the last word in as improvisation. He looked toward the director for approval, with none coming. He was looking for himself.

—–

In other local news, Hatti, the witch who told everyone at her doorstep to go away, has gone away herself, house (and also apparently hat) deleted. I think we have yet another piece of the overall picture puzzle.


“Goodbye 108. Goodbye V-Gate.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0505, Nautilus, Rim Isles

(wo-)man in black

He unfortunately found himself on the opposite side of the Greek village from the parish, staring into a mirror and admiring himself. Typical.

Later he went down to visit John. Jack was now playing the preacher, churches over liquor stores. A marriage was taking place. John was not allowed to perform marriages. Not after Reno.

“We need to *talk*,” he hissed over as the “I dos” were spilled out like fine wine.

“Meet me at the bar,” he whispered calmly back. Bells rang out. It was over.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0504, MISTY MO^^

00280317

He didn’t get much information from that pothead Pine Ridge but he understood Lamb had flown the coup. Peter Paul and Mary I mean here, featured in photo-novel 05 and a bit of photo-novel 06 if memory serves. Mr. Babyface came here to try to persuade his nephew Paul (and the rest) to return to the Land of the Living, as he called it, get away from this Hana Lei and its huffing and puffing and boys bringing more rolled up paper all the time, just like clockwork. You pay them, they come and never stop, the jerks. “Vicious cycle,” he said. “You’ll end up like Syd,” he furthered, pointing out the famous downfall of one of Paul’s rock heroes. “Dead… or worse. Dead in your head, which goes beyond physical death because the mind goes beyond the body. You better think about that the next time you take a shower with that cat soap you like.” He decides to leave it at that. Paul stares at him, much like Roger stared at Jacob later on, all glazy eyed, like a glossy pot ready to go to market, ready to have another plant inside it. He didn’t need to ask the Time because he knew what it was, shortly followed by Money, shortly followed by death. And worse. Brain Damage.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0317, Hana Lei^^

monsters

“Tennessee, pheh,” she uttered, staring over at the fake, flat snowy mountains standing in for the real ones just behind. “Come on, George,” she urged to the meditating youth gazing out in the other direction. “Let’s go see what this *Abyss* is all about.” She starts walking toward the stairs, still talking. “Nothing to be afraid of, George. So says TILE.” Was Clare losing her faith? Now that she remembers the whole of the Wheeler existence? Do we even need to be asking this? I believe it is so.

“Come on come on come on.”

“Oh all *right*.” George was enjoying the meditation. He didn’t want to encounter the Abyss just now.

—–

“Well, here we are at the mouth of this thing. You-go-first.”

“Me? But I’m just a kid.”

“You’re no kid. *Go*. Protect me if you must.” She sweeps her hand forward. “Off you go,” she commands again. “Come on come on come on.” This was not like Clare Nova, who was sweeter. This was the orders of Wheeler. Fully clowned now, she needed to find out what she was facing at the end.

—–

“What do you see in there?” called Clare-Wheeler from just outside the mouth now.

“I don’t know,” replied George. “Skulls. Candles. Lots of skulls and candles.”

“That’s the Abyss part,” said Wheeler. “What else is in there? Look in the corners, along the walls. Look *beyond* the normal.”

“There’s nothing *normal* about this place.”

“*Try*,” she urged. “I’ll be right here, ready to help if needed.” She definitely wasn’t going to help. If the power behind the Abyss got George, then another one would fill his spot. Just like she did with Clare. George could die, yes. *Duncan* had already died, maybe several times — hard to keep up. But Baker Bloch will continue on. Along with herself it seems.

“Um. Oh yeah, Mother Mary. I guess that’s good. But then a, let’s see, Medusa Gorgon beside her. Not so good.”

“Great. Keep looking. Maybe something in writing?”

“Well, the Gorgon is holding a, er, book it looks like.” He stands on his tippy toes. “But I can’t see the cover… (strain) to tell what it is.”

“Get that book,” Clare-Wheeler commands. “Just *grab* it from her.”

Dare he?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0502, Michigan, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara, Tennessee

Abyss, The

“A boy 13 to 10 and back to 13 and over and over. Obviously this is TILE, W.”

“(Small) ‘e’ to (large) ‘E’,” she agreed. “5 to 8, gaining 3. Years in this case.”

“Yellow to blue.” He looked out at the sky, the suns rising over the horizon. Horizings.

“But what of the step-down?” she continued in this vein. “The 12, then the 11, back to 10 and then back to 13, over and over?”

“Children according to the TILE documents and creeds. Red and green. Gred. Or Reen.”

“Redgreen. I remember that place. A place of war.”

“7 and 6. Mixed up. Which is higher, which is lower? Confusion in the middle. And by extension…”

“At both ends. Hi becomes lo. Hilo.”

“But one thing we agreed,” he offered as a compromise. “The Abyss plays no role in the end game. Because the Abyss has no real power. Only illusion.”

“Like static.” She squelched the urge to tack on the state names of Tennessee and Kentucky to this. It would all play out.


Tennessee. And Kentucky.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0501, Kentucky, Michigan, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara, Tennessee

wedding 03

Weddings at St. Mary’s traditionally took place after the Munday sermon so Preacher Stephan had to sacrifice a Renaldo O’Donnell clown first to appease the Gods. Tradition as well.

“Oops, that was a real squirter Pitch, ha.” The Darklys excused themselves to go home and wash clothes.

Afterwards church officials found the sacrificial altar was too heavy to move, so they made do with a cheap wedding booth found buried in a pile of junk at the back of the annex. Toothpick and Elberta then said their “I do’s” to Preacher Ziegler, since Preacher Stephan, a Northerner, refused to acknowledge the Deep South tradition of marrying siblings as kosher.

At the reception, Marty sang one of his beautiful love ditties to Saffie sitting with Toothpick, Elberta and best man Zapppa, hoping to get a better rental unit out of it.

Time to cut the cake. Big Wanda becomes annoyed about the orange butterflies that keep flying off her head in the excitement and leaves the task solely to Toothpick.

As feared, Her Majesty the local bigfoot/yeti came up from the new hole behind St. Mary’s to pay her respects to the newlyweds but was surprisingly controlled by the Corona-V pirates and ended up not eating anyone.

Lastly: group picture. Everyone had a laugh about all the innuendos.

And that’s it! Log another Collagesity or Sunklands photo-novel in the books.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0705, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, NWES Island^

Temple tales 01

Harry stares outside the picture at the Earth and sees it is good. What an oddball.

On the same floor, Baker Bloch bangs out the entire organ version of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” before raising his hands from the keyboard and realizing he can’t play. That was vampire alter ego Pitch Darkly’s talent, who hasn’t been seen in a number of photo-novels. I lose count. 18 — that’s it. Or was it 12?

Ahh, *there* he is. It was Pitch all along — should’ve know. Just had to turn the camera the other way. The lack of a reflection in the organ’s strangely placed mirror should have tipped me off. Along with, of course, the deft keyboard fingering.

“Play that other Russian ‘sky’ composer I love so much,” listening wife Mary Tyler requests. She wanted Moore. And Pitch complies by belting forth “The Rite of Spring” to her great pleasure, although early on she was knocked off her perch on the organ by the heavy vibrations. Good vibrations, though, and Mary still grooved to them while laying on the floor.

She took the opportunity to also stare at the static filled tv placed nearby she was edging closer to with each crashing chord — temple must have been tilted a bit in that direction — and fell into a trance, dreaming about a trip to the Beach. Except it was The Beech. Here we come!

Upstairs:

“Iiiiii… Iiiiiii…”

“Almost got it,” Carrcassonnee adjusting MAT (Man About Time) declares hopefully but perhaps also futilely. We’ll see soon enough.

Excuse me. I have to contact someone.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0316, Marwood, NWES Island^