Tag Archives: Shelley Struthers^^++

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It was time for Marsha Pink Krakow to show Tammy Beige Brown the way out of this world, to see down on it all. “Over here!” she called, not worrying about the vile photography/calligraphy teacher hearing. “Quick! Climb behind me! Just sit on the thread and go go go go go!”

She got on just in the nick of time. Shelley the kid was already waiting at the top. Tammy was about to get initiated into the most exclusive club in all of Storybrook in all of its room-like forms.

At the top, Marsha cuts the cord (disables the climbing scripts) before Banks can figure out how to follow. They are above and he is below. Safe at New Home, but trapped. Only Bart the missing yellow can help. But Marsha knew this too, if only unconsciously. Or maybe consciously — we’ll see.

(to be continued)

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colours

“So tell me how you came upon this place, Shelley the kid. We can speak freely here. We are above the fray. No one comes up here except me, I’m thinking. I enable and then disable the climbing mechanism each time I use the yarn, the thread.”

“I noticed that,” spoke the observant younger child atop the giant cupboard, indeed safe from everyone and everything else in this space.

“You got past Zero,” spoke the older girl honestly about the mouse “guarding” this whole place, this Story Room as I called it previously. “I intend to do the same heading out.”

“Leaving?” said Shelley to Marsha. “But there’s nothing out there.”

“Ah ha! So you do know where you come from. You have memories!”

Shelley knew that she could leave but Marsha couldn’t. Simply because she was living and the other, well, the other was dead. Like Tammy, who she knew before as Frankie. Frankie “Beige” Brown, *1st* best friend to Marsha because Olive and Green weren’t around as much as they were. Different set of companions here, but Brown is the constant for Pink.

Must be tied in to those brown and pink donuts at the beginning of Constance’s Heart of the Island Trail. In a way we’ve never left.

“Don’t *you* have memories?” she decided to phrase her reply as innocently as possible.

—–

Freshly arrived at her newspaper job on a table below, Tammy “Beige” Brown, brush in hand, ponders what stories to paint this morning. Don’t start with brown don’t start with brown don’t start with brown, begins her mantra while, at the same time, eyeing that precariously positioned full cup of coffee over there. But then she always does, just tips it over to fuel the inspiration; handy prop indeed. The new boss she’s so trying to impress always seems to eat those kind up. Or drink them, whatever. She’ll change directions soon and experiment with new hues (and shapes and forms) but for now… being a neophyte… well… same old same old *SPILL*.

She looks down through the stain at the articles she could produce.

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missing yellow

He peered out between eaters, afraid he’d become part of a sandwich.

——

“I wanted to show you this place,” she spoke down to fellow climber Shelley (kid), “because I believe in your unique power, coming from the outside so soon before and all.”

“There,” she said at the top, standing beside the 3 that hide a 4th. “Can you see?”

“See what?” spoke Shelley, also leaping off.

“Precisely. Mean mad mustard,” Marsha uttered cryptically and then urged the younger girl to stand in her spot while moving over a bit.

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Despite being 2 1/2 years removed from the event, she still kept her clothes on in what they called the big bathroom, seen here taking a bath instead of her usual shower, just to mix things up. Her everpresent pink shirt and pants dry quick enough, plus she’s more concerned at this location today about properly cleaning and grooming her head and lower extremities than parts in-between, what with handy items she could rez through the sink like a cordless hairdryer (seen above) and leg razor (see below). She could deal with the rest later in the smaller, private bathroom of the home she shares with 6 other people, including Shelley now, who just popped in one night after coming into Storybrook through the rat hole. Which they all did at one time, whether they remember it or not. Whether they *realize* it or not, Marsha Pink Krakow additionally thought. Conspiracies, pheh, she almost said aloud in disgust. Virgin birth, hmph. The things they teach you in church-school. And it’s within such stifling environments that a monster like Tom Banks could arise. Holding a rose when she first saw him. For Tammy.

Storybrook back then was a normal sized town with normal sized buildings and normal sized sinks and tubs. Before the coming of the map rat, who certainly had a tale to tell, a giant tale indeed. He stayed normal and the rest of them — us (she thinks) — shrank down. Done with the head now, down to the legs.

She was actually glad she had leg hair now because it meant she was growing up. Basically a full blown woman at 15 1/2. One-half more year and she can be on her own, away from the rest, away from Storybrook potentially. Because she had her plans all mapped out, damn the blocking rodent. She was going to walk right past the monster into the real, normal world again. Her new friend Shelley did it to get here, she can do the same to get out. Inspiration. But whether to take the girl with her becomes a new problem. Or fellow friends Lelia, Kellyya… even Tammy, since if they kind of cooked the idea up together that night in last May’s August, despite the smacking, sucking; she can’t hold those noises against her 3rd bestie formerly 1st bestie forever, although she could bump her down yet again in the friendship tier and replace her with Shelley. Seems so long ago now. The new girl and her fresh perspective has changed *everything*.

(to be continued)

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“I’ve actually been watching him for days,” spoke the kid version of Shelley Struthers over to Marsha “Pink” Krakow on the opposite side of the giant spoon, apparently a native of the land who’s experience many changes down through the years she’s lived here. “He’s scared to go back into his hole. The cat scares him. I think the crocogator scared him before and now that he’s gone he’s got this new adversary.”

“You’ve spoke about the 1/2 alligator 1/2 crocodile being previously,” replied Marsha to all this, thinking: could this be my new 4th best friend? Leaping over sweets addicted Tammy? Could be. She’ll put some sticky ass cinnamon buns before her asap and see how she handles them. And her resulting sticky fingers.

“‘He has no name that we know,'” said the younger of the two, but she was just quoting another person on the subject of monsters. She can’t recall who.

“Sat on a duck, huh?” said Marsha, reviewing earlier info on the creature. “Hmmm. I *know* where the ducks are, but they’re in a tub way up high. I skinny dipped for the first time up there. Mountain Lake we jokingly call it because of the height, the elevation. And I guess because of the attached waterfall.” She thinks back to Ben, Levi, Arthur, Lelia, Kellyya and Tammy having such a good time that night, all 7 of them. All paired up except her. Then came Tom Banks. The photography/calligraphy teacher at Storybrook school. Best to veer away from memories by this point. She focuses back on Shelley, on the ducks, on the at least *manifestation* of a monster on them. This could be… no, she can’t go there. But…

“I felt his eyes on me, then they weren’t.”

Man… it could be, Marsha then concludes.

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Something had happened. She seemed to have grown a little again upon waking up. She couldn’t turn off the lamp beside her. She stared at cow patterns on a shower curtain.


Probably asleep still — yes, that’s it. Mysteriously, no walls in the place she decided to bed down for the night, so no secrets. She could hear everything being talked about below.

“Well guys, I’m off. Wish me luck!”

“Luck, Wanda.”

“Tammy,” Tammy corrected.

“Right,” said Doris Lelia. Wearing pink on the green couch and turning a bit red. Kellyya on the flowery chair had said nothing yet, per the script of course, or so she hoped. She (the actor playing Kellyya) didn’t exactly remember her next line. She’d have to improvise. But director Bob “Tom” Wassleburg (Wassleburg?) seemed to like improvising in a role. Not all the time of course but sometimes, if the mood calls for it. May get away with the gaff. Unlike poor Alice Flowchart (Lelia) back there.

“And how about *you*? Kellyya isn’t it?” Tammy didn’t know Kellyya as well as Lelia, who she went to school with. “Aren’t you going to wish me well on my first day of work?”

Kellyya remained silent. The actor playing Kellyya figured that jealousy would explain the lack of a good luck wish. *She* hadn’t had a bonafide job in years. And her confidence suffered for it.

“*Anyway*…” Tammy turned from the two, one on her good side and one on her shit list now. Without another word she walked out the door which didn’t exist and got on her bike, intending on riding into the next room which was also the next town. Storybrook. We’ve been here before.

“Maybe I should take a hopper today,” Tammy contemplated aloud from the bike seat, looking over at the green blue red yellow in a row and forgetting about Lelia and Kellyya for the moment. Such confusing names!

Aah yes, better! She’ll show up to work in *such* a good mood, heh.

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stranger

Suddenly, miraculously, she had shrunk down, her weight even closer to Zero now as she’s checking. Crocogator watched from atop one of the floating ducks in the distance, somewhat disappointed the tale hadn’t gone on. But Story Room calls. Residents.

The world becomes solid. The curtain closes slightly more, just a slither.

Suddenly we are in a different place altogether.


Hmph. How’d I get over here??

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She doesn’t think about it much these days except perhaps when she’s on the john, with a better view of the thing. F/A-18C Hornet BA v. 2.2-8, she learned and memorized for those who’d inevitably ask about it upon hearing where she lived. “No, no one was hurt,” also usually had to be said after a follow-up question, those that didn’t remember the details of the crash. “Yes, we’re fine,” sometimes had to be added.

They were on vacation at the time, more properly, a “staycation” — 1/2 and 1/2 (here we go). Chet stayed home at night to look after the dogs while Phyllis spread all her creative stuff out at the Holiday Begin motel in Myrtle. Chet drove back and forth each day. Chet was always dressed for the holidays so it didn’t have to be a full time thing for him, or at least that was his rationale for the 1/2 and 1/2 deal instead of just staying put with her at the beech, a 35 minute drive. Plus the dogs, he’d always say. But, in truth, he was delving deep down into the mythology of Willy Wonka, strangely called Willa Wonky in those days in late August Mays, before the advent of videotapes and widespread distribution. “It almost wasn’t made,” he said after arriving one fine morning — well, all days, she recalled, were superb during her stay. 70s for a high; not too hot, not too chilly.  Nary a rain cloud in sight. Just perfect. Room temperature.

Shortly after the staycation was over and all were back home together again (happy dogs!), he found the virtual chocolate factory, not come across before because it wasn’t attached to the search word “Wonka” he had been using in his Our Second Lyfe research. Then he found more in the same sim: an ode to a TV series called “Once Upon a Time” he’d strangely not heard of, despite its relative popularity as well as being created by some of the same writers involved in “LOST’, one of his favorites. He, per usual these days, sent Shelley in to explore further.

Upon teleporting into Chet’s earmarked spot, Shelley thought she saw a giant rat’s tail quickly slither into the hole in front of her. She had to follow; rules of the explorer.

She walked past the thing (just a *mouse*, she tried to calm herself, despite its enormity), trying to hide her fear and staying away from it and its food as much as possible.

Just by it, the walk turned into a sprint to finish. She was inside.

“I have a tale to tell, I have a tale to tell!” the mouse called after her. But didn’t follow. He smelled a reptile in that direction: danger.

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I’m going to figure this out.

Why was he painting the roses red? It should have been white to cover up his mistakes. Yet Willa Wonky died and he has blood on his hands… and arms and chest and face and so on. No going back. He ate the chocolate.

An image flashed in his mind from the past. Wheeler did too! Or was it Shelley?

Anyway, suddenly everything switches with this and he’s painting red roses white instead of the other way around. Willy Wonka lives!

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Pitch eventually found Wheeler in another one of those Hana Lei lands, specifically designed for kids this go around. And that’s how our Shelley Struthers, now reverted to a child — at least temporarily — got involved.

“What happened to her face?” Pitch asked Shelley after they were able to separate away from Wheeler for some private talk. “It’s like, I don’t know, 2 things superimposed on each other that don’t belong.”

“Yeah, the blonde hair,” Shelley agreed. Then she explained that it went back to when Wheeler was underneath the chocolate all that time, lapping it up like some kind of deranged dog. “Must have done something to her complexion.”

“Hmm,” Pitch said to this. “Shouldn’t she, then, I don’t know, turn *brown* or something?” Not blonde, he additionally thought.

“Might not work like that,” quickly answered small Shelley, already wise way beyond her age. For she wasn’t really she in the hallucination. This is kind of combining several layers into one, smooshing them altogether like a club sandwich in a vise. Thus the picture of the faces in the carnival poseboard, I believe they call them. To illustrate or symbolize the change (another flattening).

But this might be better: Wheeler preparing to take a ride on the Olympia Looping roller coaster, drawn in by the 4 colors of TILE displayed all around. “TILE” she said to the attendant after he asked for her ticket. Jim Crochet Wedding Dress let her ride anyway, little voice in his ear telling him so. The Big Boss, or at least one of the Big Bosses, Wonka I believe. Or Wonky. Wonky like Willa, ha ha. OK, I’ll stop, Wheeler. So getting back to her (always her, never me it seems lately), she takes a ride, but she also calls over a companion. “Arthur, I need you Arthur,” she said in the message accompanying the teleport offer. “I need you more than ever.” Take in what happens when I trip the light fantastic, she added to herself. Because she knew she’d see stars; they were just that bonded by this point. She’d write all this up from the perspective of Edward later on, about 2:01 in the morning, she’s guessing. Always seems to be that or around that.

“What happened to your face?” he asked upon showing up.

“Never mind that, I’ll change before we start looping.” And he got in beside her, ready for a start. With her deformed mug still in place, she kissed.

“I love you Wheeler!” he shouted before the TILE colors even came into play: still on orange. All Orange, as it turned out. The rest was mere refraction from the whole.

Pitch just stood there at the bottom beside Jim, wondering what happened to Shelley as he watched blue turn into red turn into green turn into yellow to end the looping. All grown up again and gone? he wondered. He’d find out soon enough (here come the cars).

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