Tag Archives: Shelley Struthers^^+++++

beasts

With her super sharp ears, one of her superpowers, not-so-ditzy blonde Lichen Roosevelt, who was currently masquerading again as ditzy blonde Marilyn the traveling bartender, overheard it all. The bidding, the threats. Albert was driven to have the girl he couldn’t possess — none of them could, not Biff Carter, not George The Musician sitting at the bar with her and oblivious to the subject matter being spoken about behind him. Because his ears were more between his legs; that’s how he composes, how he creates. It deafens him to other realities at times, a lot of times, heck, about all of the time, she surmises in the moment. They spoke about it earlier, before Albert and Biff showed back up again, sipping their crazy tea and talking about absurdities. Shelley was free — for the moment.

“She requested she go down to the beach every day at 2, so I let her.”

“Damn, Musician, that’s not good enough!” she protested, yelling because no one else was around. Boss Herbert Done had the day off, cruising for boys on the back lot, despite already having a man and 2 girls at home. George had already told her about the decision to use the powers of the Venus Cage to trap her. “She was as much here that way as any of us,” he said. “We’re all in the same boat.”

“Don’t you see, Musician?” she tried to explain. “*Shelley’s* the boat! That’s why you’re all here in the first place.”

George knew that Albert was obsessed with a girl named Darla, a black haired and black clad beauty as he described her. And Biff — well, he hadn’t really talked to him about why he was here as well. That would come a bit later. He didn’t know about the overlap is what I’m saying here.

“She’s not your pet, your slave.”

“I know that.”

Devil instead of Lover, Marilyn thought here, contemplating The Tarot. Gemini rules The Lovers, the 6th Major Arcana card of the deck, attached to the specific planet Mercury. That’s why Mercury-Gemilly, France is involved, a suburb of *Albert*ville of all names. The Devil, Major Arcana card 15, has the same two nude figures but chained instead of free, torch lit instead of outside in the sun. It’s good George lets her sunbathe but, my God man, just because she was going to *jilt* you at the alter? *This*? Men, PHEH.

“I’m going to let her totally free soon,” George said. “As soon as I figure out how to take Arthur out of the picture. That way we can get properly married instead of those two.”

“After all this…” Marilyn said, then stopped because of the futility of it all.

And now, listening to Albert and Biff bicker, Marilyn decides to lay down all the cards. She senses a Helen of Troy situation and didn’t want it to fester any further. She had an aunt and uncle that had to live through all the atrocities of the Trojan-Durexian Wars over on the Omega continent. She wasn’t going to allow another seed to be planted like that.

The Receiver, she then thinks. I have to pick up the phone — wherever it is — and call him. That’s the solution.

She finally finds it behind the coke machine.

“Hallo? Claude?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0508, Gemini, HANA LEI

Darla who?

The similarly black hatted men visit the beach to spy on sunbathing Shelley. “*There’s* my obsession, Albert. Now you know.”

“Yes,” he said, likewise looking through the bushes and tall grass at the beauty. To him not to her. Because she thought of herself as an ugly duckling, much plainer than, say, voluptuous and confident-in-her-looks Ginger Granite who lived down the lane from her growing up. “Yes I do,” he said in a lower tone, trying not to be so obvious but kind of failing.

The black bathing suit did it for him. Now… how to eliminate Biff Carter from the picture. His mind worked just that quick in situations like this. Kill him now; right this instant? Nah, better wait for a remoter spot, maybe closer to The Void so he can more easily dispose of the body if needed. They were both stuck in Gemini thanks to the powers, but options remained inside and within those constrictions. Below 4096 meters that is and 256 around the sides. 268,435,456 cubic meters is a lot of space to work with still.

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Pepper

Shelley was in trouble because she had the key but couldn’t use it, like Rump before. Couldn’t get it off her neck; hung there like an useless, object-less necklace, product of The Void obviously. The Venus Cage had manifest for real, one of its dark powers.

“And *stay* there until I return,” George called back unnecessarily, walking away from the scene — as The Musician — to a local gig at the Pink Think bar, first in a series of such, he hoped. “Great Gig in the Sky” he wanted to title it, thinking of another Pink. The beanstalk to the 3700m high joint broke off like a collapsed tornado, falling falling falling in the far distance. He’d put that into a song as well, maybe the one about Money — Cash — he’d been working on. He’d heard about red cash for the first time from a man at the bar at the same time as him, a man in black, he recalls. Tall. He was with another guy who goes by Biff — remembered his name because of the detergent. The other guy — yes, Able. *Albert*. Both seemed to be stalking someone: different people, he gathered, but both leading them to here, this Gemini retconned from Mercury (get to that in a bit again). “If you turn totally green,” the man called Albert said to him, shared martinis all around, “then you’re done — *cooked*. “You have to keep a bit of red about you or else… (not) here.”

“Amen,” said Biff sitting across from him, to the left side of me. He was reading a small, wine red book, which I guess counted for his protecting talisman. I wondered what Albert had on about him of the same color. Perhaps a pen? Or a scarlet handkerchief in his lapel pocket that he could whip out at any time for a sneezing damsel in distress? But I daydream (within the daydream). Back to Albert…

(to be continued)

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nailed it

It was her father, Newt, and her mother, Wheeler, with herself in the middle. All dead, all ended, the Ur family complete.

It was her brother, it was her sister.

It was herself.

Next was a church with red doors, a cross over them and at the top of course. This was The Cross itself. Who should lay beside Shelley in her grave to be with her forever and ever and ever. Was it George? Arthur? Even that new stalker prevert Biff Carter, perhaps named after a detergent but perhaps not? This was the place they get married. This is the place they get buried.

Next: It was a long way up; another ladder.

Many spirits requested her presence.

The Void has spoken.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0417, HANA LEI, Sand Springs

the tale continues

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0416, HANA LEI, Sand Springs

next please

Where’s Ruby Roo going?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0415, HANA LEI, Sand Springs

Project Pin

“I love you Chuck, baby, but this is not my bar.”

“Oh… okay.”

“Goodbye.”

“Good–” Chuck looked around — no blonde. More chicks in the joint where that came from, though. There’s a red haired one back there, a black haired one over there. Looks too smart for me. I think I’ll choose the red.

—–

Later:

“No one, *sob*, danced with me!”

“Aww, Ferrn. You still got me. Your old friend Bookie!”

“*Sniff*. Thanks.”

“Here. Use one of my pages as a handkerchief. Go ahead. It won’t hurt.”

Ripp. BLOWWWW.

—–

A soggy, wadded up piece of paper appears between Shelley’s legs, waking her up.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0413, HANA LEI, Mountain Lake, Omega, Sansara

00350410

As soon as he logged back in, Biff Carter, former police officer now just out on loan, drove his old, battered patrol car — maintenance not kept up after his retirement much to his lament — over to the cell where they were *suppose* to be keeping Arthur Kill. Or Kill van Kull — whatever. He’d know the shape if not the name fer sure. And this wasn’t him.

“Where is he?” he barked to Policeman Clubb in terse greeting. Clubb and he go way back, had their hands in the old style beatings of ’73, miracle year indeed. It was all in the book that Shelley at the tavern somewhere below — beyond — just put down in favor of her tablet and dream related material. “Big Red Machine.”

“Dunno. This guy just appeared in his place while I was looking away for a moment. Said he’s a Receiver.”

“*Receiver*? What’s *that*?” Biff Carter was feeling the pressure of the beat again, the anxiety of not knowing what’s around any corner. Like this. He purposely fed Filburt those pills so he could get him ill and take his place back on the force, so it was all his doing. He had to keep up with the girl. He asked about her next.

“Missed her by a day and a 1/2,” replied Clubb.

“Darn,” cussed Carter. But maybe he said “damn” or even “f-ck” here. Then to this “Receiver”: “Who are you? What did you do with Kill? Did you *kill* him?” Carter might have emitted a small smile here but couldn’t manage it through the anger.

“Kill van Kull?” replied our Claude, who we met back in Section 01 and last appeared in this photo-novel (don’t say what # in the series) at the beginning post of Section 02. Seems like so long ago. “Lampton?” Claude recites another name this killer of the film went by, kill or be killed being one of his mottoes. He’s working on some more.

“Whatever he goes by,” replies Biff Carter bitingly. “I know *you’re* not him. Despite being a [delete name] too… sometimes hard to tell you f-ers apart.

Ah, the f- word n- word, thinks Claude here. Another one due for a visit to The Void. He’ll see to it asap. “He turned… into the Receiver that I am,” spoke Claude, knowing this wouldn’t make any sense to Carter, Clubb. He dare not mention the dog.

Carter finally emitted that smile, which turned into a laugh, which turned into a doubled over guffaw. Surreal truths sometimes do this to people. Witness George Washington Carver exclaiming that he invented a phonograph needle made out of peanuts to a world wide audience in ’84. Not a dry eye on the planet. Hmm, Carver… Carter.

Finally he recovered. “Bring him down to the station,” he barked at Clubb while dabbing his face with a handkerchief. “I’m going to the Kitty Kat Klub,” which Clubb knew was one of their old hangouts while on the beat. Wasn’t even invited. Who was in charge here after all? His old boss Carter or his new boss? Maybe, deep down, they’re both the same.

“Sure, sure,” he relented, not wanting a beating himself. Because he knew what was going to happen to Claude BOOF!

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Tesseract Inn continued…

The dead will return to their graves, the bats will fly back to The Void, and the orange lights on the fir tree in the center of it all will be replaced by anything but as Halloween season shifts inevitably into Christmas. Shelley decides to bed down for the night on the comfy couch by the fire as the fog rolls in, another product of the lingering evil. The “Big Red Machine” being finished as far as she can take it, she shifts back to her standard tablet for more reading. Always 1 or 2 or 3 pages in at this time of night and she’s ready for sleep; can stash the tablet safely away beside the bed — or couch in this case — its main job accomplished. She likes to read about dreams anymore, but still has problems remembering her own. Society offers little in training for that, unfortunately, with the emphasize instead being placed on “out there”, or the manipulation of physical objects and the achievement of material goals. How much do you have in your bank account, Shelley? Not enough, society might answer. Focus your energy on investments, financial planning. But the dreams, she might protest in her mind. What about the *inner* wealth. No answer for that.

She’s spacing out instead of reading. Time to shut the eyes. She doesn’t have her special neck molding pillow but, oh well. Next time she’ll be sure to plan an intercontinental trip better; this one was rather impromptu in nature. Plus, well there are the shifts in time/location to deal with. The Cross, pheh. And now she’s trapped, in effect, in one of its quadrants, let’s say, as it divides the continent into 4 fairly equal sections, with one remaining unfinished — not the one she’s in, though, this Mountain land with its many shiny granite peaks and ridges. Must be the mica.

“Goodnight Spider!” she calls as she rolls over, using her hand as a makeshift pillow.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0409, Mountain Lake, Omega, The Cross

Twitch of the Morgan

‘Big Red Machine,’ ‘Big Red Machine.’ *Here* it is.

Now to finally finish that chapter.

As she read, Morgan (Orient PO) was being rebuilt starting with green, blue and red blocks.

From peak to shining peak.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0408, Mountain Lake, Omega