Tag Archives: Trash and Recycling^^===^*===

jot em down (Pine Apple)

Could it be true? The tent would have been potentially facing that direction: toward the thick Pine Forest. But Mystery Cave to the north and Fern Wall to the south could also be involved. Maybe even *triangulate* between all 3.

Spongebub might know, if his last name is actually Triangleslacks and not the more obvious. We’ve already met his wife, his son in this here story through the similarly dreaming Leforest Bresford over at Ontario village. What happened to her?

—–

“There are rumors about a big floating can seen in the park or thereabouts, Ms. Bresford, sometimes with a woman’s legs and head attached to it. Some reports put it with 2 other figures, both cowboys, sticking out the can’s top alongside the woman’s. Others have two children, still others have red and blue dummies or mannequins. Others… well, you get the picture.”

“Yes. We: Can!” the blue one to her left wanted to reveal freely to the Big Wig before her. “You *can’t* do it,” countered the red figure on her right, knowing it was the wrong thing to admit. The only thing she could decide in the moment was that she had to choose. The world opened up in front of her. A bullet that had formerly been frozen in reality caught her square in the heart, the center. Bart had the last evil laugh or at least aberrant chuckle.

Another agent would have to be sent in. Or not… maybe just forget about the whole Ontario village sub-plot — for now.

Next!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0415, Blue Mountain, Country Park, Wendy-Ontario

staying on the grounds

Leforest Bresford soon realizes that the town, this Ontario, is chocked *full* of mysteries. Like this floating woman at the back of the church apparently named Selene by the description. But through her training in the 32, she also knows this is somehow user and blog owner Baker Bloch’s mother Old Grey, exposing her oily way again. Gong, pheh. Zero Hero. She’s in it deep again.

She attempts to merge with the figure and understand its meaning. Training again — making shit happen and such. Zero back here; maybe 9 up front?

She continues to roam the grounds of the church that also contains the ruins where she shot up that tin can and became one with it as well. It still surrounds her, only she chooses, in the moment, not to let us the blog readers see it. Trash and Recycling some call her red and blue companions sitting at either shoulder, combined in this way to make something not quite as good as either separately. Purple perhaps, weaker than either constituent red or blue. She ponders this too.

From the rocks the church is perched upon she thinks she sees Jim or James L. Brown walking down the sidewalk in the distance but is unsure, and then forgets to check immediately.

She wanders through an opening in a row of tall cypresses to this nice patio with a green table with green chairs set up for game playing. It begins to rain, then it begins to pour. She takes shelter in a roofed pergola and starts reading a proffered book…

… only to swiftly fall asleep as the text bores her, a mystery about a wee man murdered in a normal sized outhouse. Quite unbelievable. In the subsequent dreaming she is in the same place but with two more strange characters interacting at a table nearby, also out of the rain.

“I believe you know my father,” the 1/2 snow 1/2 sponge being spoke to the other.

“Oh Snowbob,” his snow white mother with two coal lumps for eyes exuded, tired of the games. Who is he now? she wondered. Kactus?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0314, Wendy-Ontario

Center Point

Debbie Doom left in a huff, tea cup and saucer broken beneath her on the reckoning couch. The powers that be had deemed her replaceable. She made error 01 in the playbook of love. Falling for a relative. Taboo. Pot-D or Pan-Z couldn’t put up with the bad press. Leforest Bresford was sent in. She’ll make shit happen, Erik Jones Johnson said in the office of the Big Wig, delivering the pitch for his ex-wife. “Do you love her still?” he asked back. He knew this could be a deal breaker. “No,” Erik lied, which is exactly what the higher powers wanted him to do. Lie between and out his teeth. “Okay,” the bigger said to the smaller. “*One* shot,” he warned, and then handed him her gun.

Her mission: to find Black Bart and put a bullet through his lead head before he becomes fully shadow and *all* are doomed. The renegade manifesto must not be written.

From the couch in the secret meeting place, she aims for first one then the other in the short distance, watching them sweat and swear. “Choose him!” the red cried. “No, her!” the blue screamed back, eager to save his own skin even though it was the same “skin”.

The shot whizzed between them, somehow missing both. She had been trained well, and now had not one but two allies by her side, both male and female powers. She incorporated them into her being, even though no one could see the can except herself, when she wanted to. Like now.

The mist cleared as she exited the ruins, confusion over.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0313, Wendy-Ontario

pansies

“You’re one of our most trusted contacts, Bella.”

“Sandy here, YUCK. Sandy *Squirrel*. I’m a squir-rel, HO.”

“Right, right. You’re a squirrel here. You’re name is Sandy. *Not* Bella.”

“That’s right. And I can’t breath, HUH HUH HUH (pants). See? I just removed my helmet and the atmosphere’s plain POISON. It’s like I took a red pill, a blue pill, and then turned into a COW, hehe.”

“I don’t get it. Anyway…”

“It’s that old saying,” she explained with another chuckle, still without helmet. “‘And on the FIFTH day… wait, And SO on the FIFTH day…”

“Right, right. I get it. You’re a cow.”

“I’m NOT a cow. Becauuuuse… I didn’t take the *pills*. I didn’t become Phyllis. I h’ain’t no channeler, see. I’ll leave that up to…”

“Phyllis?” I interrupted. I didn’t see the connection between pills and Phyllis yet. I could tell I upset Sandy/Bella by interrupting her. Me and my big mouth. I think of the calming blue pills in my pocket that could slow me down. Getting anxious. I reach; try to disguise to Bella/Sandy what I’m doing. Cartoon-like, she begins to imitate me; reaches into her own pocket on her astronaut suit or whatever the heck she’s wearing.

“I got some TOO, and I bet they h’ain’t the same color, HO.”

Synchronized now, I pull out two, she pulls out two. I figure out the Phyllis-pills connection. Together we could do each other in. She reaches over with one and I do too. We exchange. We swallow.

—–

We’re in a different place altogether, staring at trash that also isn’t trash with TILE channeler Phyllis and revived lady of the night Sammie Parr. It was all a dream.

—–

Tickie comes back from the bathroom. “Where’d they go?” On his own now, he became even slightly more blue but it would take a while.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0610, Bellisaria, Black Ice, Four Corners, NWES Island^, Pickle 01, Pickle 02

spectre from the past

“Well I at least have some refuge bins outside — for the whole neighborhood, really.” He turns. “But I’m in a *pickle* about what to do with the rest of this building, Gotham.”

“Couple more bong hits and we might get it,” suggests the psychedelic reggae monk to fellow pothead Stumpy, pointing in what he thinks is the direction of their apartment above Bob White’s Record Store. Such cheap rent! He can afford both.

—–

Later:

“We’ll have to do something about this, Trash and Recycling. Can you, I don’t know, *combine* the two? At least get rid of one of ’em?”

“On it,” they both say in unison, already planning ahead.

—–

More later:

“Umm, I’m confused.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0508, Bellisaria, NWES Island^, Pickle 01, Pickle 02