Tag Archives: Roy Coy^*++++

March 4, 2024 · 7:43 am

2 days earlier…

They had wined and dined her after she arrived. The town seemed to want the establishment as much as she wanted to put it there, enthusiasm matching enthusiasm. Town mayor Golden Jim, named for his money instead of his appearance, looks on below as Wendy attempts to pull the local version of an Excalibur sword from a stone…

…failing of course.

All visiting dignitaries have to go through the protocol. Mayorial assistants Mokeujin Gold and (especially) Mokeujin Brass, most definitely named for their color and not their riches — not being paid enough for their valuable services by the mayor — couldn’t help but laugh at sprawling Wendy on the surrounding sand. Golden Jim was above such gutteral amusement, taking it all in like the established ritual it was.

“Next up we have the sculpture of Soupy Sells,” he moves the procession along after helping Wendy off the sand garden’s surface, “the person most responsible for the town as it is. If it wasn’t for his soup… well, we all know the story.” He was tired of telling the story. Maybe it was time to think about retirement too, join Newt in the ranks of the unemployed. 64 fast approaching 65 he himself was. “Golden you’ll notice, just like, well, me. He was my grandfather. Some called him Golden Jack. Some called him Skippy because he also did that. Some: John. Others: Rob. A few even spoke his name as Luther. A person way from up in the mountains addressed him as Oregeno. And I believe (he turned to his assistants here) — correct me if I’m wrong, Gold, Brass — but the former mayor once called him Jasper. And then Evelyn, you know Evelyn who lives by the docks. Think she said his name was Saucy. Saucy Sells. But that was probably just a mistake because of the old popularity of soup and sauce together back in the days. Back in *Evelyn’s* days…”

He went on and on like this, producing new names for the man, the legend they most commonly called Soupy. The spark of love for his job had been reignited. Attention to details like multi-monikers. Golden Jim also went by many names, but that’s another story for another day.

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November 4, 2023 · 3:48 pm

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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November 4, 2023 · 2:22 am

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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November 3, 2023 · 3:41 pm

00400604 (Roy)

“I agree human, woman,” he clipped out. “We must have peace. But now you must direct me to the balcony region with a view of the stage where young Pink Krakow, Marsha will perform once again tonight at approximately 00:22:05. I do not have to add the PM you’ll notice, because I am former military, special ops. Retired 00:23:03 but that was just last night. That is an attempt at robot humor, ha ha ha. Ha.” Golden robot Roy Coy looks down. “And you do not need that belt, expressionless human, woman, to announce your desires. You are beautiful as you are. Peace!” He flashes a sign back as best he can then does something else on a whim. Golden Goddess’ prophecy is being fulfilled.

“Up here, Roy!” calls Madam Mayor Wheeler Wilson from the balcony just above.

—–

“I enjoy sitting here being Coy. Am I suppose to be shy? I looked it up. I’m suppose to be shy.”

“That’s the archaic definition,” Wheeler opposite him helped. “Try a newer dictionary; see what comes up.”

He updated his reference files. “Ahh. I see. A *pretense* of shyness now, often to aid allure. Like that peaceful woman downstairs. I took her belt by the way. I have it here in my chest container. I will put it on myself. That way I’ll be coy in a modern sense. Sexy coy.” He attaches the belt he stole from Bridgette downstairs to his midrift.

It does something to him unexpected, but he quickly reassembles himself. “Uh oh,” he says, hardly missing a beat. “Not allowed to do that. I must return the stolen belt or else keep falling to pieces; moral chip malfunction you understand. Excuse me human, Wheeler.” He flashes a peace sign at her in brief parting, thinking it was the thing to do.

(to be continued)

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November 3, 2023 · 3:16 pm

00400603

“I cannot see at this time. The leaves are stuck together as if in an old waterlogged book found floating on the harbour. Poetically speaking,” she explains her description.

“Never mind (the whereabouts of) Ketchup Tom, then. How about this new guy, this Roy Coy. Doctor? Mister? Gaze into your scrying instruments and give me the info.”

Golden Goddess gives it another go. Tired of the cards and leaves, she pulls out the crystal ball, blue-green as Earth and an almost exact stand in. Getting closer.

“Utah Utah Utah,” she says while scanning and staring. “Aahh… *there*.”

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November 3, 2023 · 10:42 am

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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November 1, 2023 · 1:35 am

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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