Tag Archives: Shelley Struthers^^+++

00500403

“Is that *Iowa* corn over there, Chuck?” asks Tom, noticing the discoloration and almost slicing off one of his fingers in the concern. “Because that’s not allowed. Poison,” he followed. “You’ll have to use Illinois.”

“Oh,” said Chuck, recognizing his mistake. “Thanks a lot!” Forgot to throw out the last of it when they received the call from the local Hy-Vee yesterday. Almost got 1/2 the restaurant sick!

“AND we need to take that Iowan car down from above the counter too. Gives paying customer the wrong impression, bad press and all. We must distance ourselves–”

“–from the Heartland as much as possible, yes,” completes Chuck for Tom, one in the moment, their hatred of it growing by the hour, minute, day. What will it be tomorrow? Wheat? What’s Kaboom made out of? Lucky Charms? Everyone will be doomed; no getting well atall, at least for the older and more vulnerable folks, thinking down-in-the-hollow Kennedys here.

Shelley, fresh from pretend slaughtering hogs down the street, another Iowan staple, waits at the counter, overhearing it all. I could still use that corn for gas, she thinks humorously, staring at the mounted red ’57 Chevy and understanding why she’s here. “Wait!” she called, just as Tom was about to dump the corn in the bin like a baby that’s its own bathing water. “And I’ll take the car off your hands too,” she adds just later. Is that stretching a joke? You bet!

—–

Filled up, full blown ’57 Chevy down on the ground and ready to roll again, she comes to the actual reason for visiting Cedar Creek in the first place: Daniel’s day trailer, erm, Daniel Day’s trailer… during the day. Lunchtime, so should be home. She opens her mouth to speak.

“Hello?” Knock knock knock. “Hello??”

No one there, but finding the door unlocked she decides to wait inside. Why not? All this is role playing after all.

On the tellie, Shelley sees what Baker B. and Daniel D. are watching at the morning job Baker had kept him late at again, more magic of the place. “Peewee Big,” Shelley recognizes, probably to compare it with recently viewed “Father Fred”. Toward the end of the sync, Shelley also saw, right where Josh is hearing potentially triggering music again. Daniel should be here soon, she knows, aiming to eat a quick sandwich or something then head off to the afternoon job. I won’t be long.

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00500315

“There he is. Horace the drummer, just like Noodle, er, Shelley said. And, aww, he’s depressed a lot of the time. Poor guy.”

“This must be before he grew his mustache,” offered Daniel from the side, still chipping in when he can. “Or maybe he’s already shaved it off here.”

“Depression will do that to you,” I said back. “Make you change your appearance thinking that’ll help your mood. Usually doesn’t. Only a passion for the essence of life again will heal those wounds. Got it!” I suddenly realized, figurative head bulb lighting up. “Something happened to his band!”

“And he can’t release those pent up emotions, hmm.” Daniel studies the illustration again. “He’s trying to think of sunnier times. Through the meditation. But the depression is major in scale — overwhelming.”

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00500314

“Do you think I’m beautiful, Horace?”

“Duuuh, *I’m* not Horace,” she imagines the graffiti face behind her saying in a fumbling, bumbling voice.

“Sure you are. And you play drums. Just like me.”

“Deeer, *no* you don’t.”

“Sure I do. Ever heard of a little album called ‘Demon Days’? Check it out. Drums, guitar, singing, you name it. I can do it all, Horace on the wall behind me. I’m *brilliant*. Just look me up in New Mexico.” But then she knew not to say more about that angle.

“Duuur, Mexico?”

“Close, very close,” she decides to answer Horace’s misunderstanding of her words. “Anthony,” she pinpoints a fake location, on the opposite side of the state from where she was thinking before. Touching Mexico, yes, but actually in NM and TX both, a 3 ‘n 1 she could hide in 4 years if needed. She knew the dual city would confuse and confound the less nimble brained Horace if he did any follow up research, which was doubtful anyway (she continues to imagine).

“Deee–”

The me in front of 2nd Phase Noodle breaks in here to reminds her that she needs to cut her bangs to see better, no matter how cool this early look be.

—–

There?

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00500312

https://gilligan.fandom.com/wiki/The_Honeybees

“Don’t worry, this particular 3 piece girl band will never make it out of Oceania to acquire mainland fame and fortune, despite their obvious talent. The *Mosquitoes* will make sure of that. Stamp them NONEXISTANT. *Not* a rival.”

“Thanks Biff!!” he can hear them collectively exclaim in his head, Shelley even giving him an appreciative kiss on his cheek. No, make that *lips*. Now to test it out in reality.

—–

Groovy tune this “You Need Us” is, thinks smoking and radio listening Wanda from her mainland bed in a different TV series altogether. But I wonder why The Mosquitoes went with an instrumental? I can imagine the 3 part singing now… TBC?

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00500311 (Shakespeare never sleeps)

“(The ASUMH library entrance is) 7.00 miles from Arkana, 7.00 miles from Arkawana with the WA left behind in the attached, sad sad Robina crime spree story. Concrete (WA) again? Might be pressing it there.”

“Silver,” listening Wendell Biff Carter attempts an explanation of his own. “Silver = seven; you pointed that out before.”

“Could be,” admits Shelley, still on the bench, still beneath and hiding under and even within Noodle looming o’er her. Always.

“It’s good you didn’t come out from under the lamp,” Biff tries to summarize their talk so far.


photo-novel 32

“I was too little then. Wouldn’t have worked.”

“But later, I mean… when you were able to turn around and face the music. Miss Ouri had taken over *everything*.”


photo-novel 47

“Oh… right. But not quite everything,” she corrected for Biff, her manager, her… friend? Let’s go with manager for a while longer. “There was my saving grace,” she said. “I escaped through the island newly formed off the coast of mainland. (The) 4 (Apocalyptic) horses reduced to 2….”

—–

“What happened to your husband Arthur anyway?” Biff begins a related topic, bit of jealousy in his tone along with a bit of hope. Could it work between them? Nah — and he tried to shove that thought out of his head. “Last I heard: Oceania.”

“He’s still there. Playing the role of Godzilla or sumtin at Point Nemo which is the furthest location away from dry land in the whole wide world. He literally followed his lucrative paying roles to the end of the Earth, as far away from my loving arms as he could get, *sigh*. I guess all he has left now is either turn around and come home to me or go off to a different planet altogether. The louse.”

Ah HA, I think from beyond the wall. Explains a lot!

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00500308 (pinpointed center (ASU-“Mountain Home” library))

“*Very* clever, ya’ll,” Daniel calls into the air, talking to the spirits he credits all this weirdness for instead of me. “*I* walk into the library that fateful day, ready to start a new chapter of my life. Oh I’ve been there many times before.”

“You have (!)” I said. That’s how we became friends.

“But not like this, not as one of the actual employees of the place. So I walk in, walk up the stairs and visit the admin offices to finish out my paperwork. So *excited*. Yet so scared. I’d thrown away full time employment at the, er, college to work on my art in the afternoon. This has now been reinforced to you.”

“To me reinforced this now has been,” I reiterate. “Through the blog, through the photo-novel. Through the *maps*.”

“Yes. Good. I’m getting the hand [sic?] of all this, Baker B. I really am.” And they’d yet to talk about the girl with the library eyes, the one who stood so small under a lamp in the corner when all this went down. Noodle, we could continue to call her. Although that’s not her real name. Time machine.

“Hold on, Mr. SPLAT, ha. I can even show you ascending the stairs. Continuation…”

“Look how happy I am — perfect.” But he still wasn’t talking to me directly.

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00500213

In our dream we gave you everything you want. Dance sequences. Sequences, period (think that’s how it translated from Japanese). Fame and money. Yet you throw it all away to get some privacy? We do not understand. Please explain the slapping, the red ass (translation?). Illinois?

Shelley put down the letter she received from up above. Beyond the clouds, even. Perhaps even beyond the sun and moon and stars. Pitch black up there. Bible. All Japanese. She couldn’t read to the end; too painful. Red again. Cheeks if not ass. But punishment nonetheless. Michael.

“Yess??”

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00500212

But we’ve kind of already been here before with Cyberpunk 2077’s US Cracks, similarly a 3 girl band with color emphasized in their names, Blue (Moon) Red (Menace) Purple (Force) to match Shelley’s Pink Pink Pink. And if you combine their blue and red and purple you get pretty close to pink through magenta, like in the light spectrum. Japanese girls too, remembering that XXX Dream is owned by a user who only speaks such. Let’s investigate this resonance further…

—-

“I couldn’t even take a *bath* without the paparazzi hounding me up there in that Japanese hell. I wanted out. And so I started slapping myself while still sleeping, over and over. Cheeks turning red… redder… reddest. It wakes me up but I realize the dream slapping doesn’t carry over into reality slapping, thankfully. No pain. No red. The three part dream where I’m Pink Pink and Pink is *done*, band manager Wendell Biff Carter. Capisce?”

All Biff could do was nod. They’d made triple the money they would have collected groundside. He knew to cut ties while the going was good. Back to Earth. TBC


“Get out, get… OUT!”

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00500211 (bunny 02?)

“XXX Dream; It’s real!” she said as he approached from the south, having checked out a bit of the new green grasslands before moving north into settled country. Right on the line he is up above. (Visiting in the) daytime of course. Biff Carter dare not come here during the night; had to remain a tether to reality for Shelley and the others under his new management. He’s *not* going back to that dirty, dingy, claustrophobic restaurant on the edge of his village. Simply no to all that, he solidifies. “Just like in Concrete, Washington,” she continued, thinking of bigfoot there, the Man in Brown, so on. People didn’t want to see but still: there he is. The last thing shot before the quintessential Google Street View car found its final resting spot atop the Eiffel Tower, one of the most recognizable landmarks on Planet Earth. Until now. He was upon her, took in her Pink again. “Check out the parcel description if you don’t believe me.” She held out her white stick cigarette. “Hit?”

“No thanks I’m trying to cut back. And: I believe you about the parcel.” Yeah, he’d checked just in case while walking up. Like I said, he had everything to lose. Had to make sure *Shelley* wasn’t dreaming. XXX it was. But he didn’t tell her this, wanted to at least exude pretend confidence in her judgement, her grasp on truths.

“Soo… have you made a decision?”

“I have. Silver. No Mosquitoes.”

“Seven, then.”

“Yeaahh. Seven.” She reflexively looked down at the pinkness all about her body. Including the part alien skin, she knew. Thanks Baker Blinker!

Biff understood this was dangerous territory and that 7 could still overtake 9 since 9 could not probably move into 10 any more, safety zone on the other side of likewise static zero. But — the exuding.

“Ready for this, then?” X in triplicate form again. She hadn’t tried this out yet. Scared she was. And him through her. No restaurant no restaurant no restaurant. This experiment better *pan* out, else back to the pots and. He made sure they were on the same page of the script down here before heading upwards. Double check, *triple* check.

It worked! Biff remained manager of music not food. He knew this triplet form of Pink would *sell*. TBC

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00500210

Turns out there was already a band called The Mosquitoes that appeared on “Gilligan’s Island” during the 60’s so Shelley decided to return the name Silver to her own band, reverting them to the Silver Mosquitoes. “Never mind the ‘Gilligan’s Island’ band was mythical and not real,” she said to anyone who cared at the time. “It’s still something that people might remember and then get confused about. We’re *not* mythical, he he he.” They were primarily a Beatles cover band here so Shelley thought the addition back of Silver was appropriate in that way too, further tribute to what she and all other members of her present band, save one, thought of as the greatest rock group of all time and who were, yes, once known as the Silver Beetles before they gained fame and notoriety and substituted an A for an E in the remaining part of their name. They weren’t on that level, she knew. They may never grow out of their Silver phase, cover band forever. But she still had plans. Was the lone non-Beatles fan No Lag still a part of that? We’ll perhaps see in parts 03-06 or 07 if not the present one. Back to the action… TBC


passing back of the “silver band”

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