Tag Archives: Treelor^^+

April 5, 2019 · 7:20 am

Continuing…

She knows she saw it. The sea had DEMO written all over it, like it was mocking her very existence.

But she can’t seem to recreate the vision.

—–

Wait: there it is.

—–

Is that woman nude over there? The owners said: no nudity. And… well, where is perpetual birthday boy Tropp? It’s not Allen Y. obviously. That’s Pine Ridge. The bastard. Going rogue on Baker and me and creating his own batch of lousy characters. Dollie — what the heck? And a *frog*? I’ve seen *him* before: Middletown, where he was called Brazilian Bill. I assume soon enough a puny, sickly apple tree will show up sprouting off some craggy rock or such. “Make it so,” Treelor Tropp might say, and it would be. Why… do I keep writing thinking Treelor instead of Tropp? Another 2-n-1? 2 Hearts in One. The glue? She better get back to the lodge. Of course she’s not going to report *these* 2. It’s going to happen here. The rule is more a suggestion, perhaps, as long as you do it in a harmless, non-graphic way.

Now back to looking for a nice car for when I get back.

—–

When she looked up again the couple were gone. In their place, Allen Y. and Archibald Duke sat around a nearby campfire. Dollie and Piper are probably luring somewhere nearby, Jennifer rationalized, hidden by the tall grass or something. Looks like the lodge came to me. Better go see what they’re up to. I suppose. Or… she could just walk the other way. She eyes the exit route. Nah, too easy to spot — can’t get away with it. So it’s be *friendly*, true to my name. A last name I might share with Allen Y. someday. If he’s so inclined. Could be an interesting story. Story within a story.

——

“S’up guys?” She spots Dollie hidden in the nearby grass. “And gal.”

—–

“Did you know Johnny Appleseed supposedly planted his *last* apple tree right here in these mountains.” Allen Y. pointed back in the direction they came. “Said so in the lodge brochure. Probably really old and shriveled by this point, wouldn’t you guess. Let’s go take a look.”

Jennifer looked west. *Knew* it, she thought.

The mists move in…

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April 5, 2019 · 4:57 am

another

“Why don’t you and Tropp get away from it all. Make a sort of vacation out of it. Another 2 stone with one bird situation. You keep an eye on Pine Ridge and his *unsanctioned* new gang at MISTY MO and at the same time further your own storyline. We can book you in the same lodge with the rest of ’em.”

Wheeler Wilson pondered what Baker Bloch was offering here at the Table.  She’d just explained how Tropp and she were now banned from Braynard’s Place where he was, in effect, born into this world in present form, boy to man style. But he admitted to her it was worth it. Yes it was.

Golden Sphere.

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April 1, 2019 · 9:44 am

room

“So this is where it all ends for us.”

“I don’t know,” spoke Tropp honestly. Opp. Or, I suppose, Septimius Felton in this garb.

Wheeler Misty puts both hands under her chin; speaks more earnestly.

“Did you hear there’s a rumor going around that I’m Karoz’s mother? Did you hear that?”

“Honestly…”

“Well it’s true.”

Septimius wondered if she meant the mother part was true or the rumor part, but didn’t ask for clarification. “What next?” he said instead.

“We stay here. In Heterocera. Karoz Blogger and Baker Blinker have returned to their home of Chilbo. *Their* true home. This is ours. We *are* Chilbo in many ways. Er, Heterocera I meant there.”

“Of course.” He looked away and then back. “I’d like to be Giant for a Day again.”

“Black hole, yes.” Misty sighed. “We’re playing around with that. Actually, playing *around* that. Dangerous game. Like wrestling.”

“Yes, I’m tired of wrestling.”

“Tired of me beating you to a pulp all the time.” Misty cackles.

“We are not evil.”

“That’s exactly what I told Baker Bloch the other day. We are not evil. We are like everyone else. All the core avatars. We are representations of the whole. Like white light separated out into the rainbow colors. Each has its place.”

“Each,” Septimius echoed.

Misty looked at her ruby red nails. “We should return to Philo. Maybe get another set of clothes.”

“I think that you maybe might have enough.” Septimius then broke a smile. Both laughed.

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January 18, 2019 · 7:54 am

here’s the deal

“These fries smell a little off, Patrick.”

“Whadda you expect for free food, Zoidboro,” spoke the human across him more wisely than usual. He turns in his seat and peers at the stage. “When’s the band start here?”

“Oh, they’ll kick us hobos out long before the music begins, Pat. These are top dollar seats here!”

“Oh.” He then looks to his left. “So the Doc and his lady friends are just the first to arrive, huh.”

“Of course. Frozen Meat Waffles. A very popular band in Eotia Village, perhaps the most popular. We bought that ‘Human Flesh Zone’ CD back when we first arrived. Remember? Now I wish I had that money for some food, clothes, anything.”

“We can sell it.”

Zoidboro waves off Patrick’s again wise suggestion. “Ahh, I actually listened to it a couple of times while you were out on your walks. Knew you wouldn’t be interested. But it’s used goods now.”

“Still…”

“Nah. 5 (dollars) at best for a half dozen times played CD.”

“That’s a fresh Big Mike.” He glances down at the stale hamburger in front of him. “And a sloshie and some proper fries. This is the place to do it.”

Zoidboro wonders along with us, the readers, how Patrick suddenly became so wise. Then he realized: pregnancy. Coming to term. He was basically thinking for two now. And the baby must be smarter than he. Interesting. *I’m* smarter than he. More proof? He must induce that dream of Nevermore again. Or was it Nevermind?

The first band member to arrive sasheys through the front door.

By golly it’s Colonel Flagstaff. In a new disguise. Well, the same disguise we last saw him using over on the Omega continent, but in a quite different setting. And peddling a quite different commodity this time.

He approaches the pair in the booth; speaks in his cool, grunge voice.

“Used CD? Sell? I’ll buy it from you for a dream.”

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November 28, 2018 · 9:08 am

Out of Gaston

“Original form, eh?”

“*Ghost form, yeah,” spoke Bracket. “I died quite a long time ago now.”

Treelor contemplated this. “I can barely remember my original form. Lost — but I remember where I was born. A place called Outlander.” She paused. “Outlander? Something Outside. Outlands? Anyway, it was very green and quite pretty. A valley in the middle of it all. That’s where I came from.”

“Corsica for me. Bracket Islands. Named after me. I was king.”

Treelor continued rocking. “Did you have a queen?”

Bracket Ghost recalled something about a hill. Fivepenny. “I believe so,” he answered after the memory. “But she was underwater.” He remembered something else. “Green. Half woman half fish. Merwoman I suppose. That’s who I was married to. And she… could play a mean game of crocket.”

“Cricket?” Treelor attempted to clarify. “Do you mean the game of cricket?”

“Croquet,” Bracket then corrected himself.” More memories. “Had a mansion.”

“Hmph.”

They rocked for about a half minute in silence, which Treelor then broke. “I suppose we should get somewhere tonight. Gaston is a logical choice. VW and all. Abbey Road and such.”

“Suppose. Awfully laggy there. We may not make it out, hehe.”

“We’ll have to take that chance.”

Bracket checked his landmarks. “Blue house okay?”

“Sure.”

—–

“Maybe we should start here by washing some dishes.”

“Right. Clean up. You better change over. No aliens. Remember?”

—–

“Where’d she go?”

“Crappy damn place.”

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November 22, 2018 · 10:17 am

Further

“I must concur with Lieutenant Spocari, Captain,” pleads 1st Science Officer Dr. I.C. Yourinsides. “All data I’m recieving states that New Eden will be crushed inside the black hole. We must reverse, full speed!”

Tropp stays calm in his chair. “Call me crazy confident, guys, but I think we can do it. One day — Spocari, I.C. — you or someone else of your ilk might be in charge. But not now, not today. This is my decision to make.”

“For-WARD!”

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November 20, 2018 · 8:45 am

spirals

“Jeez I haven’t been here in quite a while, Tin Tin, er, Axis. 1/2 a year? Maybe more.”

Axis, who was a dog now, couldn’t answer, but kept indicating spots of significance from before with his sniffing nose.

“That gun is *never* going to stop firing at me. The only way I can stay here… with you… is to keep sitting on stuff. This blue inner tube I always loved, for instance.”

And then, let’s see…

—–

—–

“She can’t return to that moment, on that bench. Pain. She’ll die over and over again.”

“One more try, Albert.”

—–

“See her leg? This must be where she was made, Alex.”

“The guns are silent now.”

—–

“Look. There she is again (!)”

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November 20, 2018 · 6:51 am

Gaston

“This use to be Chroma’s house, you know.”

“Don’t say.”

“Greg, that is. Ogden. Not the odious Oden fellow.”

“Green, yeah.” She pretend spits on the floor beside the couch. “Disgusting. Red, yellow and blue’s where it’s at.”

“‘Hidden Vilage.'”

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November 9, 2018 · 7:31 am

Vila 01

Her head hurt terribly from the transition. What year was it? 1920? 2120?”

She managed to recover and get up. Time to see if Jacob I. was truly out of here, taking his talking bone cat with him. She knocked the knocker.

“Jacob’s really gone, isn’t he G.G.?”

“Yeah.”

“Then who the hell is that??”

“And give me back my hat and hair,” Hank whispered louder while the knocks continued.

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November 9, 2018 · 5:35 am

Vila 02

Better not head up there as a piece of cheese.


Treelor crosses the line.

—–

Look and learn.

Ahh, someone standing before the Kama(s) Portal (!). Chance?

Another observer?

I’m going to fly over there…

—–

He’s not exactly where I thought the portal was (256/128). Then again, maybe I was wrong.

I’m on the line once more…

—–

“Why do you need me here again, Misty? We’re a long ways from Philo… and it’s getting dark. Maybe I better escort you home now.”

“Shut up and listen, retro-boy,” Misty insisted (Misty again?). “I *need* you because I need to be part of a couple. Takes two to know, after all. You know… the portal.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about witch lady.”

“Just follow me.”

—–

“I don’t understand, Misty.” Septimius Felton’s voice was low and anxious. “There’s a bat lady over there… dancing. And then there’s one behind us. Gargoyles I fear. I read about them in the town library. It’s Salem all over again here. This is high witchery.” He stared steadily and intensely at Misty, as if she were to blame for it all.

“All right, all right,” she relented. “Just stop burning me alive with those eyes; we’ll go back. Your *comfort* zone. Swindon’s it is But first…”

—–

“*That’s* a gargoyle, Septimius. The others are just some kind of demons. See how it just perches there at the corner of a building, waiting for rain water so that it can spout out of its mouth again? Spout, gargoyle,” she demanded boldly. “Spout *observer*.”

“Interesting,” both declare in unison.

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