“Sorry about Santman, boss,” robot doorman Chuck bellowed in his giant voice down to passing (Tron)Axis, who didn’t speak up. Highies usually didn’t acknowledge Lowies in Fearzum-town, and Axis was not one to break protocol on this. But indeed he was sorry about it too. He had high hopes for a new and copyright free superhero named Santman. Highest of the high.
—–
Meanwhile, over on the Elephant’s Trunk of the Corsica continent to the west (keeping in mind that Corsica is an elephant, an ever popular meme), Axis’ wife Wheeler had gone back to her old routine: essentially waiting for the return of her hubbie from Fearzum back to Fearzom or thereabouts, most recently in Rond. But they had moved on from Rond that night we visited them there recently, and Wheeler seems to now have a place near her beloved Cafe Maroon in Red Mars. Because we will probably end this here present photo-novel, 18th in the Collagesity photo-novel series, in Fearzom or thereabouts instead of Fearzum or thereabouts, where Axis still is. Good chance; Red Mars dictates this. And Venus. Venus and Mars may or may not be alright tonight. Marty might know. In fact…
“I never figured it out neither,” he spoke up to me (The Lord) from a beach bar in Wet Hoof. But he still might be a lover to Wheeler on the side…
… unless it’s Marvel Man. Yes, let’s just go with that, The Man freshly regurgitated back out of Ant after the failed Santman project. I believe there’s still a bit of ant saliva dripping from his hair, which he deftly covers with his old Elvis wig on a larch lark. We’ll catch up with the 2 in Cafe Maroon.
“But aren’t you married to Parasol?”
The Man quickly recedes into the background with this, remembering obligations to his wife. *He* is faithful, even if she isn’t. The Man always had one true love, the Eve to his Adam, the Wo-man to his Man. And Dog makes 3.
No, let’s instead just have Axis return from Fearzum to Fearzom (or thereabouts), reunited with his wife after the failed Santman project but also successful Morgan Freechild killing in nearby Ephant, just down the line at the beginning of the trunk. 1/2 and 1/2. They decide to celebrate the latter instead of be sad for the former.
“You didn’t turn your back on me,” spoke Wheeler, now in a blue-green Venus wig befitting her new status as queen of Cafe Maroon, queen of Red Mars itself most likely.
“No,” he answered in his handsome voice. “I gave up the office, the view of the granite topped Ashenlave summit, just to be here with you. I hope you’re happy (about it).” There was remorse in his pretty tone. He knew Wheeler was behind the Santman failure. She needed him here, and here he was, blue-green as well. Faithful. For now.
“Do you like my new look?” she spoke over to similarly coffee sipping Axis, more immersed in the Tron machinery than ever. “I made it just for you, just for this place. Fearzom or thereabouts.”
“Stop saying that,” he quickly snapped back.
—–
We could actually end our current photo-novel here, but The Pattern dictates that there are 7 or 8 or 9 or 10 additional posts to go, perhaps even a little more. Fearzom not Fearzum will be the rule. Unless it changes. Thanks for continuing to read!
Sunklands 