Tag Archives: Ruby^^+

centerpoint

Young Ruby looked far and wide for her missing friend Shirley Boot, starting with Yd Bay on the far side of New Island, hoping to hell she didn’t find another bobbing head there like she did before with Trashy the Clown’s (she didn’t).

Another place to visit was Faux Aunt Annie and Karl’s Gloomy Gus on the west coast. Now the last couple of times we checked in — well, actually throughout this *whole* novel, looking back — it seems that Annie was in a heap of trouble with all these pills and incessant dancing and, um, the other thing. And she was! But the death of Trashy the Clown, although extremely difficult to get over at first, was a blessing in disguise. She cleaned up, with aid from loving beau Karl — locked up in the Gloomy Gus for going on two weeks. She emerged exhausted and dehydrated and still a little nauseous, but ready to move forward into the future without drugs and the other, attached things. Karl was her focus now, her beacon of light. So we have a happy ending to that part of our story, and an important one it is. But no luck for Ruby this day — no sign of Shirley there.

Mrs. Fogg and Ms. Frame, now moved in together for mutual protection, food, and liberty, hadn’t seen her either. That basically took care of the whole northwest section of the island, so active these two women were with their sailing and beach running and frequent picnics to the top of Mt. Sondra where they had a commanding view of that part of New Island.

Blue Jay Wade was dead, and his former chum turned complete psychopath Big Red Butler remained incarcerated at the Gaston-Berry jail, at least for this week. But neighbor Zettie Lamont the zebra-ass, similar to Fogg and Frame, had a pretty good view of the lower western part of the island from his perch atop Pimushe Isle. He relayed to the disappointed Ruby that he hadn’t seen the young girl either.

How about one of the houseboats or yachts at the Diamond Sailing Club? Possibility, but since Lisa the Vegetarian Smipson left for Corsica, she has no contacts there.

No one lived at Artist Point in the southeast section of the island. The east was dominated by Mid Hazel’s compound of buildings. Ruby felt that if Shirley had somehow gotten stuck over there she was doomed anyway. Lost to a powerful witch.

Which left center: Mabel’s house (Mabel and roommates Fisher and Bendy had seen nothing), Eraserhead Man and his Rabbit Hole house (nada again), and Robot Derak Jones (who said, check with Eraserhead Man, which she’d just done). Hmm, she thought, standing in the middle of central Route 9 dividing the island almost cleanly in two. She looked down at the buildings: Elephant Club, Axis’ Castle, Flossie’s, a new place beside Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village. “*Wait*,” she suddenly exclaimed. “The Village! I could ask Lavern Glam. She has eyes everywhere.”

So we head back to the ice cream truck, the sole component of this so-called village. Use to be bigger in the day, as they say. But Mr. Glam sold part of his original land to the Elephant Club, who turned it into their western parking lot, and then part to Oranga Black who built the Arcade in back. He downsized from a double wide trailer with indoor seating to the small truck we’ve already seen in that last post, whose cab also doubled as his daughter’s bedroom for a while. She didn’t mind: she felt she remained in the center of it all that way.

Ruby approached the truck. “You’re not Lavern Glam.”

“Yet *you* remain oh-so-red Ruby Roo,” spoke the alien behind the counter. “Exactly 15 1/2 today, this minute, this, um, second actually. Your anti-birthday.”

The island blew up around them. To those on the outside, those who survived, they describe the sound it made as close if not the same as middle C on a piano. Queer, huh? Too queer? We’ll see…

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big over trashy

Blue Jay Wade was still kinda noticing (and imagining/remembering) the thing before the thing while Big Red washed his hands prior to serving their evening meal. Carrot and cucumber enchiladas it was tonight, yum. Big Red could cook with the best of ’em. Something to reassure himself after this afternoon’s humiliation, Wade speculated. But I guess he got his revenge at least on Trashy. Certainly did. Thinking it best not to re-imagine *that* right now, the blue bird-man turned his attention instead to the left.

“We gotta pay to get these windows unfrosted sometime, Big Red… Mr. Butler.”

“*Why*?” Big Red was still in quite the pissy mood.

“Because, you know… of The Monster. Sneaking up on us all the time. We don’t even have time to react most times.”

“I *like* The Monster visiting us,” Big Red measured out acidly while putting their enchiladas on plates and lumbered toward the table. “I *like* being abducted. It’s like a mini-holiday. Away from *you*.”

“I’m just saying…” Blue Jay Wade tried to defend himself.

Big Red hovered to the side. “If you’d spend more time at your *boathouse* then you wouldn’t notice these windows so much.”

Blue Jay Wade tested the frosted panel with his finger to see if dirt or grime could be adding to its translucent quality, so little could be actually seen.

“Stand up,” Big Red barked while roughly plopping down their plates on the wooden table and sliding one over to Blue Jay Wade. “You know I don’t like eating with my back to the wall. Get up; you can have this plate.” That image of the thing after the thing flashing in his head, Blue Jay Wade quickly complied and slunk over to the center seat while Big Red glowered above and behind him a minute — breathing rather heavily and menacingly, a suddenly sweating Wade felt — before moving to the vacated chair.

—–

Ruby found Trashy’s red, white and blue severed head the next day bobbing around Yd Bay on the other side of the island. “What have I done??” she cried, worrying more about what suddenly pill denied Aunt Annie was going to do to *her* than anything.

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little over big

“Why don’t you just take your clothes off right now and go hop in the tub, Big Red. Because you’re going *down again.*”

Blue Jay Wade pretended not to see Ruby’s victory dance on the table…

… but certainly noticed Big Red’s big, hairy heiney as he waddled back to his house for his loser bath.

“Don’t say *anything* Trashy,” Big Red warned while passing.

“Like *you’re* going to do anything about it,” taunted the drug dealing clown.

Oops.

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start again

It certainly was an interesting illusion, this blue image against Fishers Isle in the exact same place the blue mini had been before.

(Ruby turned) But it was certainly an illusion.

 

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stares

Turchin McGurchin was tidying up Mabel’s original Scarlet Creative Sylvia House when Ruby silently entered. “Don’t let me scare you old man,” she said to him from behind.” Turchin laid his broom aside and they hugged. 2 weeks was long enough to make a good friend.

—–

“It’s so beautiful here,” Ruby spoke while staring out across the expanse of the Rubi Woods from her higher perspective on the tire swing.

Turchin nodded from his chair while trying to fight nodding off at the same time. “Yup. Sure ’nuff is.”

Ruby just sat for a while, taking in the calmness and serenity. “Shame Mabel can’t live here… in this one.” She glances toward the SCS house just to her left now.

“Mabel will be back soon enough,” Turchin offered in his countrified manner of speaking. Slow and easy. “Best she’s not here for a spell — till she fully gets over Buurb. Yup, I saw it coming, all along.”

Rubi looked down at Turchin, then, after a smaller pause: “Do you think they still love each other?”

“Hard to tell. Since Buurb’s a girl again…” He lets it go at that.

Ruby stares down at her crossed feet. “Of course.”

—–

Turchin caught Ruby up with town news since her two week stay about a month back, a visit no one currently around remembered except for him. Maxism was on the rise again, thanks to the crafty graffiti he painted last Tuesday in the vacant Stairs gallery — and has added onto in the meantime.

Keep directing your stares toward Max, was the overall message he wanted to plant. Turn it up to the Max, was a related catch phrase he was tinkering with. “You can see Max anywhere from town if you turn up your draw distance to the max — 512 meters,” he explained to the 15 year old. “Fate,” he tacked on. Ruby asked about the other two religions in town and what would happen to them. “They’ll implode,” Turch said in uncharacteristic sharpness. “It’s just suppose to be Ruby — you — and Max.” But he was wrong about that.

—–

In his reinstated apartment, smoking and observing Roger Pine Ridge waited for someone to reenter Collagesity from the woods.

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doppleganger

Dismally pained Ruby suddenly found herself in a totally different place, observing and wondering who Max was through focusing eyes while simultaneously being overwhelmed by the pungent odor of cheese.

She was back in Collagesity. Drying her tears, she realized she had to find Turch and catch up.

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(too) red (spot)

“Face it Ruby. Your aunt’s gone. I stopped DJ-ing about 5 hours ago and she’s still dancing up a storm. She’s lost. Lost to the beat of the island.”

“C. The tone is C.”

“C? Like in a musical C? Middle C?”

Middle-of-15 Ruby didn’t answer. “Take me back home, Fisher. I’m tired of hearing and seeing this.”

—–

“We FAILED in this one, Baker…!” Eraserhead Man turned in his rocking chair and squinted over at my avatar, trying to make out the sex, but his eyes weren’t adjusted yet. “Baker B.!” he just finished to cover both possibilities while resuming his coffee drinking.

“Why don’t you turn your hearing aid up, Eraserhead Man! But there’s Ruby left!”

“Ahh, Young RUBY. Elephant’s ears and eyes both.” By just mentioning (shouting) her name, Eraserhead Man could suddenly hear and see better; didn’t even need the hearing aid now. He pivoted again and saw he was talking to the male Baker. “The Corsica continent is still in play Baker *Bloch*. I didn’t try to nuke Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village for nothing!”

“I hear they have land sharks now!” my avatar offered about the continent.

“No need to shout, Male Baker. Hearing’s up.” Sipping EM gave him a thumbs up from behind.

“Oh. Didn’t even see you turn it up. But it’s different times, Eraserhead Man.”

“Pencil, please,” the rocking male requests, still staring ahead. “We’re *friends* now, I’m suddenly remembering.”

Baker B.’s memories started kicking in as well. Yes. *Friends*.

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one way two

“The walls are closing in on us, Ruby. We have limited time.”

“Have you been inside?” asked the wirey teenager while glancing over her shoulder at the new, western half of the castle. Axis’ castle, I suppose.

“The door remains locked.” On a whim, Mabel decided to do something else tonight. “Would you like to see another one of my incarnations? It may come in handy when trying to understand the battle between Bill and me for Collagesity later on. Won’t be long.”

“Sure.”

“That’s cool. Blonde hair again. I think I like the Martian angle better.”

“Very well.”

“Um, you’re still a little different than before.”

“Am I?” Mabel looked down at her dress, realized she had glasses on now. Sunglasses — lime colored ones, matching the dress. And hoop earrings! Yes, she remembered now. Montana. This was the outfit she concocted to sing at the Cult of Oo’d church last month. Must have gotten mixed up in her regular, normal day outfits. Embarrassed, Mabel decided not to divulge her more recent infatuation with pop singer Hannah Montana and also her father Billy Ray Cyrus. Daenerys from “Game of Thrones”: yes. Hannah and Billy: not quite yet.

But they must move on the meat of Mabel’s report. “Ruby, I cannot stress this enough. Do *not* return to the API with Shirley Boot or anyone else for that matter. This Mid Hazel’s presence is still strong there. Bill and I have talked. She’s agreed to meet the powerful witch — her mentor after all — face to face once more. In the old castle across Route 9. She could be over there right now.”

“Axis’?” queried Ruby, thinking of the high castle directly across the road from her Blue Rose Dune that she suspected may also belong to him.

No, this one is different. More of a manor, I suppose. I guess.”

—–

Bill decided to show Mid Hazel another one of her incarnations. “Might come in handy later on,” she explained.

“Get that whore trash out of here,” the observing witch commanded.

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one way

Strange that Irish Moss would grow in the sea, Mabel thought from the Yd Bay coastline, peering out at the red plant cluster in the shallow water ahead…

… that, in truth, was another red-blue situation, its duplicate cluster’s hue being just unresolved from Mabel’s distance.

Mabel makes sure to say hello to Leeman or Leemon on her way back to the Scarlet Creative Sylvia House, her home away from home.

Aloha indeed, in that you say hello to this island you never get to say goodbye. The blue never seems to come with the red. Except for one person…

“I knew it was going to be you tonight,” Mabel spoke across the table in her peculiar Martian accent, consonants accented and vowels subdued.

Snapshot1038_012b

“Well, I knew it was going to be *you*,” the confident 15 year old countered.

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rainbows

—–

“These books over here have no titles. They must be the important ones. The ones behind the rules.”

“I don’t feel comfortable here,” replied the almost 13 year old Shirley Boot to middle-of-15 Ruby. “Eraserhead Man could come back from one of his ramblings with Robot Derak Jones at any time.”

“Relax,” assured Ruby, still standing tall after the events of the night before up at Hilltop Pool. The Sun Rose. “We have permission to be here. I was *born* here… in the Rabbit Hole.”

“Then what about *him*?” Shirley rolls over and points down to the floor below them. “Mr. Transparent,” she adds glibly.

“Oh he’s just a halfway person. A portal effect. Nothing to worry about. As long as we don’t sit in the chair and try to knit or something. Just do like I said and don’t sit in the chair.”

“Oh I *won’t*. I never had any intention of sitting in that chair.”

“It’s EM’s chair and that is that. It’s a portal thing… ‘nother one. But this raised floor, the books (she waves at the bookshelf in front of her), even the toilet over there just behind the wall… fair game. The table below us as well. It’s just the chair…”

“So you keep saying.” Shirley was itching to talk about men again… boys. She wondered if she should pull out the spliff she has in her pocket and light up. Does Ruby smoke? Is she *cool*?

“I saw the Man in the High Castle outside today,” the 15 year old then said, reimagining the scene. “Checking out EM’s small palm grove. And I’m sure he spotted Annie’s easel and cherry chair there as well. He owns the land, you know. But he didn’t delete the objects. Curious, huh? And he’s just enlarged his castle toward Mabel’s house; you know, the Scarlet Creative Sylvia House. The castle’s west wall is practically in her front yard now.”

Potheads, Shirley then thought, seeing Marty Bendy and Jay Fisher milling about in their strange ways upstairs. New Island Studios, humph. Maybe I should excuse myself and head over there instead. Always up for a smoke those two are.

Ruby was thinking along the same lines — how to excuse herself without seeming rude. But they stuck with each other tonight, unable to break the magnetic attraction. Not that either was gay or anything. But there was a close friendship forming for sure. One needed the other. Despite the 2 1/2 year difference in age. Shirley needed to cut down on the smokes, especially at her tender age. Ruby just needed someone to discuss High Castle stuff, dunes and island morphology, and so on. Annie had gone too far down Pill Popper Lane now, an understood cul-de-sac.

So Ruby and Shirley went back to Mabel’s house and lounged around the dining table. Ruby read some favorite passages from Mabel’s 3rd Diary to Shirley while Fisher and Bendy, now downstairs, sat on the couch behind them here and stared at various, small insects that flew within range. “A gnat,” Bendy blurted at one point just before he ate it.

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