Tag Archives: Shelley Struthers^^=====

00340703

“Who is it baby doll?”

“It’s the *agency*.”

“Well, keep trying to smile.”

“Hello?” she says. “Yeah, this is him, well, his proxy.” She winks at actor Lemont Sanford, currently unemployed but not caring. They’d made so much on the dog.

A pause as she listens to the other party. Then: “Back? Kill van Kull? I’ll tell him.”

Lemont Sanford, best known for his role as Arthur Kill back there, picks up that there’s no one else on the line. This was all a sham. “You’re *synthesized* part is all lined up,” she said, putting away the phone — somewhere. He couldn’t help note the purple again.

10 days later they were back on the set in Middletown getting married to a new wedding theme, someone name Bodenheimer I believe. 10 weeks later the character played by the actress divorce the SOB. But not before something happened, something very important to the future of this blog and attached photo-novels.

In a word: Liz.

END OF “SUNKLANDS PHOTO-NOVEL 34”

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00340702

She was chopping down the beanstalk as fast as possible with the magic ax she purchased with her soul. Dreaming Shelley came up on her. “What are you *doing*? You’ll *kill* yourself. You’ll kill both of us. Stop it; put down the ax.”

Still-a-kid Liz kept chopping away, whack whack whack. At the 200th swing, the giant plant leading up to the top of the sky began to crack at its base. It was falling. “Look what you’ve done!” screamed Shelley still beside her. The thing unwound in the distance like a collapsed tornado. She woke up.

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00340701

“Oh *I* see, Mr. Robot,” she said, standing directly behind him and looking over his bent head. “You drew yourself, see, but you forgot to paint what is in front of yourself. You were too… self centric.”

“Who are you?” the brown mechanoid issued, not liking criticism of his art, however valid it was. “What are you doing here? Where did you come from?”

She realized she didn’t know the answer to any of these.

—–

She was on a raft in the whirlpool now, art come to life. Around and around and around at a dizzying pace she went. She decided to phone a friend.

“Hello. Liz? Can you hear me over the *roar*? I’m in trouble! Come get me at 232, um, 222… dang I can’t remember where I live!” The whirlpool swallows her. She wakes up.

—–

Another dream about the upper levels,” Shelley relayed to Liz later on. “Where I’m grown.”

“I see.” Liz recently felt she needed to put a stop to all that.

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Roost rest

Emboldened by the speeding up of time, Shelley remotely scans the castle on the highest peak of the peninsula and then teleports directly over through double click when she finally finds something more interesting. To her disappointment, the place seemed vacant of life and energy. Except for these bubbles. Perhaps they are the key — ‘nother one. She sends a teleport invite to Liz to join her once she figures out what they are.

“Whoa!” Shelley utters when assuming the pose inside the topmost one. “Far out, I mean, far *down*.”

“Whoops, I’m falling, weee!” joins in smaller Liz, finally receding from Shelley agewise. One whole season (!).

They try a couple more before settling on these two for another talk about Wheeler and Newt, the peninsula as a whole, where they’re heading individually and collectively. Photo-novel 34 was coming to a close, ending at this location (as stated). But more adventures certainly lay ahead for them in the future: the core avatars, Baker Bloch (Newt in the moment; also Kid Shelley), Wheeler Wilson (playing herself and Liz presently), and the rest. They are a family now, traveling through virtual space and time and even popping up in Our Reality once in a while, like Arthur Kill in Tennessee recently in order to retrieve Spider the Dog and bring him back to the metaverse. We must catch up with that particular storyline soon, maybe after we finish with the kids here.

“Wheeler is *beautiful*,” started Shelley again with the observing and hypothesizing. “Moreso than I knew. I hope I look that great when I…”

“… grow up,” completed Liz for Shelley. She was beginning to hope that both would remain kids from now on. She liked the companionship. Although Shelley kind of avoided her at first, when she learned about the whole mother-daughter aspect, Liz could tell she was treating her more like a fellow kid lately. They were going on kid-like adventures. They were having *fun*. She decided to tell Shelley this.

“Aw, man,” uttered the older girl to this. “You *know* I have to grown up so that I can produce *you*. I have to find George. I have to get married. I have to get, well, *pregnant* — by George I’m assuming.” Shelley said too much here, she knew. Why the different race for Liz? In her imagination where he was produced, George was not African-American. She’d had future visions. But this has happened before — she can’t remember, can’t put her finger on it.

“Tell me about your mother,” she asked over to the smaller one, finally broaching the elephant in the room.

“She was *beautiful*,” began Liz. Wheeler.

(to be continued)

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00340613

“We’re struggling to get to the end, W.”

“We’ll make it — have confidence. Put the kids on the back lawn of the castle and have them stare at the newly resurrected Roost Never Sleeps up on the peninsula’s high peak. Make *that* the focus from now on. You are doing well, swell even. Don’t worry about the tangents. You are focused on the peninsula and that is good. This is how it’s suppose to be.”

“Sorry about your beach,” I decided to insert. Wheeler — W. — had been kicked off for head butting Newt (and visa versa), but a different kind involving the latter more than the former. Darn postmodern beachwear! But there’s more places to hang out here and stay true to the location. Now to those kids…

“It’s just as big as the old one, maybe bigger.” Liz Struthers, proposed present and future daughter, grandkid to Newt and Wheeler, I mean, Wheeler and Newt. “I’ve seen pictures.”

“Center of Our Nautilus for sure,” spoke projected mother Shelley Struthers. “Great Summer Project!”

“Summer?” questioned the little one who sprang from her loins in a future time, probably about as far up as Wheeler went to retrieve that bathing suit. Liz indicated this was Fall already, number of days in, actually.

Shelley was overjoyed. She’d skipped over a season. She was starting to age faster!

She’d check the downstairs works later.

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far away from the old

“Wheeler says I got to grow up fast so’s I can married George, Milo. Whereever he is.

“So I took this job at the bar below the castle. *Pretend* job, anyways. I don’t know nothing about mixing drinks or anything, Milo. But it makes me appear *big*. In the eyes of others at least.”

Milo meows meekly, perhaps unconvinced, and moves himself and his two attached eyes on his little kitty flannel cap away from Shelley, hopping down to the ground in order to get to the milk bowl for a refresher. Suddenly she doesn’t feel that big; feels exposed again to the world with it not directly in front of her, protecting her, comforting her. The castle is just out of view to her right, thankfully. She doesn’t want to think about marriage right now, nor the child that would supposedly be born from her loins despite the race difference, a child already *here* — future style. Speaking of which, here comes her first potential customer of the day her career. Wheeler, wearing the latest postmodern beachwear from Germany. At least Liz isn’t with her, she thinks — probably left up at the castle with Newt or whatever he’s going by these days. Perhaps Man in Black still. Nah, she remembers, that persona was ditched with the return to the peninsula. *Her* peninsula they kept calling it.

Wheeler spots Shelley in the distance, comes over. “Oh hi, just heading down to the ocean to catch some serious rays today. You like?” She turns around, modelling the futuristic — thing. Purple force fields instead of cloth. Daring! And the *back*… She recalls the photo in the box, the one that caused so much trouble. Borneo.

“Yeah, sure.” Does Wheeler even know? she ponders. Suddenly she wished Liz was with her so she’d have someone to talk with all that.

“Soo… what’re *you* doing down here?” Shelley comes out from behind the bar, chickening out of the role play. “Oh nothing. Just playing, heh.” She stands awkwardly in front of the outfit, wondering how all that worked. Plasma? Lasers?

Wheeler looks in the distance again, spots the place she wants to lay to maximize her time in Our Second Lyfe’s always bright always tanning sometimes burning sun. Nah, best to move one spot over so she’ll be under the umbrella later on. She looks at Shelley again with this, notes the eyes through the reflected purple glow. Still ordinary brown, it seems — no books in them yet, nor the rest of the interwebs. That will come later. But it better come quick.

(to be continued)

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Nowhere

“We must pray for a return to Nautilus, Mother; Daughter. Pray with me please. Pray pray pray.”

It could work, Pauline Silentghost knew, if Shelly would quickly grow the hell up and away from her daughter. They can’t remain about the same age. Baker has a home on the Rooster Peninsula (Nautilus), and this has aided him in knowing he is a sleepwalker, like all or almost all of us regular human types up here in the Real World where I’m typing this. Easist thing in the world to let the thoughts just take you. Driving is super aggressive if we just submerge ourselves in it. Whole blocks of repeating ruminations about a family member who hurt you, or not getting your due respect from another. How different you are from a brother. Most of it is just fiction, or *inconvenient* to the fact that we all also create our own reality. There are all kinds of hidden connections if we could just open our eyes.

She holds the blue ball right side up and that seems promising. At least she is able to keep from spacing out all the time — understands the 8 corners of the universe and can see above and beyond. Channeler Pauline Silentghost could be the salvation of us all. And Carrcassonnee of course, the deity within that is also probably the same as herself.

“Hurry,” she urges from the top of the rock. “Hurry!”

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key wet

A trio of men: Cowboy, Indian, Black. And behind them: still fuzzy. Maybe someone named… Frank?

—–

“I’m remembering,” spoke Jennifer “Shelley” Struthers, turning into that Lane, seeing further than before, beyond the edge of virtual reality itself. Stinkerfoot.

Roll him over, look into his eyes. MENTION that the gnome had disappeared. Someone purposely took it. I looked all around the rocks it once inhabited in its 2 locations that we know of.

CRUX — think of relationship with Apostrophe album, the apostrophe itself according to Frank.

Did the Tigers get to him anyway, despite being taken away from the more prominent rock perch and tucked, hopefully safely, behind a nearby tree? The story of County Park basically ends there, as another location I had my eye on for a toy happening was blocked — someone else was already present, a nice enough bloke but obviously living off the land. I knew where he lived; he was telling me that, albeit unconsciously in all likelihood, unless he was an alien himself, ha. He filled my space quite effectively. He, in all likelihood, needs it more.

Back to virtual…

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00340510

Silentghost sure is pretty, thought Liz from her meditating position, curious but not looking over again. They were talking about rumps before, she heard — that’s the word they used for it after she showed up, materializing from where Wheeler stood just prior. “I better get back to my Newt,” she heard her say, like waking up from a dream, “and you better get back to your Liz,” she spoke to Shelley just before vanishing. So here she is. Pauline Silentghost warmed to her quickly. “You will stay here with me for a while,” she said. “I’ll teach you much about Nautilus, both the shell and the continent. Shelley too — no accident about her name there — and also, also…”

“Wheeler?” Liz offered in the gap. Pauline Silentghost had been having trouble saying that name ever since Reno. Shot a man just to watch him die, she’d heard, or at least the Wilson version of her did, the male aspect. Black and white, on and off, dead and alive even. Liz had answers, Liz was gifted. Just like her Mom.

—–

“Whatcha doing future child of mine?”

“Absorbing.”

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00340509

“The only Butt that’s going to show up in this photo is mine,” spoke up Silentghost, tired of the bog down, but also noting the deleted or unsuccessful profile pic involved yet another purple outfit. Fitting: too fitting. Supposed notorious outlaw on the run Wilson had nothing to say, since she was actually Wheeler. What kind of luck did she have assuming the name of a fugitive from the law?? What did it speak of her character to attract this person into her life?

“I — don’t remember taking that picture, I swear,” she said, plotting her defense. She didn’t. Not her pic!

“Com’on,” insisted Silentghost. “Ρùℜ℘Îē?”

There is another me out there, thought Wilson Wheeler both wrongly and rightly.

Observing Shelley had seen it too but she wasn’t shocked or damaged in any way. Instead: curious. Futuristic (outfit), she pondered. *From* the future. And so it was. She told this to Wilson who was actually Wheeler. Time is being confused, she added in her psychic manner.

She traced the picture back to last Halloween. The lone blog post published from that day, toward the last of photo-novel 29 which I am just re-reading now, was certainly quite purple in nature and mentioned a purple swamp shack in particular, along with Prince’s “Purple Rain” album.

https://bakerbloch.com/2021/10/31/00290608/

“I’m going back to that swamp,” she said to Newt on the phone later. Paper-Soap: he was there too. He studied the post while she spoke. Box… Borneo. They were not even really dating at the time. Perhaps they still weren’t, although they’d been married since.

Shelley contemplated the post afterwards too. *She* was there, at the resurrection beach with Cat-Witch who is… *Wheeler*. Just the day before.

Whatever happened to Liz?

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