Tag Archives: VENUS CAGE

over the hedge

I’m going to beat the crap out of that girl.

—–

Before taking a shower, Shelley writes in her journal.

Day 2 in The Void.
I have determined that George, formerly Debbie’s George, is the same as my own.
We are destined to be together.
I don’t know where the other is.

She pulls away from the screen, looks at what she wrote. She knows there is another but can’t recall who. It is someone dark… black, even, like the shadow side of a planet.

Her phone rings. It’s Arthur. Arthur! she thinks while trying to figure out how to answer like in a receiver. That’s who I was thinking of. And he must have been thinking of me! She figures it out, puts the correct end to her mouth. “Hallo?”

“Are you ready?”

Ready for what? she thinks. Oh. The shower. Testing water pressure and all, let’s say.

“Yes.”

“Go ahead and I’ll meet you over there.”

“Oh.” Disappointment?

“Shelley?”

“Yes… Arthur.”

“Arthur? You haven’t called me *that* in a while. Do you, erm, do you even know where you are? Where I am? Where we’re going?”

She admitted she didn’t. She was in The Void for real. And she didn’t even have the necklace this time, giving it to a repairman in the garage outside in order to pay for her car. Broke carburetor. “It’ll cost you as much as the car itself,” Ken said through the window, watching her dig dig dig in her pocketbook for cash, red or green. But alas, the only thing of value she had on her was the Venus Cage. Of course, Ken, also working for The Void, knew this. After receiving it he made the proper disposal per instructions. Far far away from The Void. Lemont Sanford must not know how to get at her this go around. She will be truly trapped forever and ever. Swapsies.

(to be continued)

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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). “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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00350312

“Thanks for coming to rescue me, *Lemont*.”

“You’re very welcome dearest. But you can *really* thank your Venus Cage necklace, or at least the photo of it.”

“Right. Didn’t remember anything about the Umbrella Club until I pulled it out of my purse and took a look. Angles aren’t right in the black and white photograph. Can’t figure out where it is taken on the body.”

“It’s not a body.”

“Yeah, I know that now. But just the studying, the trying to figure it out, changed me. I can never go back now. I remain under the Umbrella. Figuratively, of course, because here we’re out in the sun still. Where is our umbrella anyway?”

“Stashed away for a rainy day,” he said.

She turned on her side. “And… I don’t think I desire to wear purple any more. That must go along with (the change). Or when I do it’s *my* choice. She shaked her index finger to reinforce her point. Shelley she was through and through, she thought.

But Lemont knew the situation could change. Good now for them. But George/The Musician was still out there somewhere.

And Roberts remained just around the corner.

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Black

A new crop of potential recruits has shown up on what they call Umbrella Beach on the western edge of Nautilus’ Crisp Sea, chatting after the delicious, shrimp dominated buffet. Decision time coming up. Whether to step into the shade of the protecting umbrella or go back out into the glare of the harsh, unrelenting sun, all exposed and for everyone around to gawk at in their increasing redness. Red ironically protects against red, they said during the meal, standing up one by one, these past recruits, to give their testimonies of success and life fulfillment through the initiative, the collective. Already, one here was basically under the umbrella, decision made, shackles (of outside life) removed and legs to be retreated back in the shade with the rest, perhaps even before I write this sentence. The purple clad one in the background middle was also about to cave, being a bigger shrimp lover than Lois in white. Sitting down Darla was just ready to go home and be done with it, another one forced here by a prevert relative trying to seduce her to the dark side. “Okay, okay,” she said to her mother Tulipia in a call between meal and beach. “You win. We’ll move to Ohio.” Joy in the Conner household tonight. Uncle Albert would *not* be tagging along, thanks to a restraining order issued by Pinky, Darla’s father, just yesterday.

Speaking of which…

“Medium build, medium height, wearing a black bathing suit. Any idea?”

“Sir you just described about half the girls that walk on this beach.”

“Oh. Thought of something else. She wears a Venus cage necklace. Very distinctive. I don’t think (smile?) you’d be able to miss it.”

“Just a moment; hold on. I promise not to do anything stupid.” Beach cottage owner and secret “receiver” Claude briefly goes inside and retrieves a box, opens it for the stranger. “You mean like *these*?”

It was full of such. Claude gives them away to every girl lured in by the bosses. He doesn’t tell Albert they’re trackers as well. They know where you are.

“Whatever that picture you’re referring to, every one of those girls up there has sent back the same to their family.” He also doesn’t tell Albert they track even through photos. Powerful amulets indeed.

“Interesting information,” says Albert, the uncle of not one but several girls involved down through the years. He comes from a pretty big family. “Just for that, I’ve decided not to shoot you.”

Relieved look?

“Just kidding! POW POW… POW.”

No wounds. Albert wasn’t kidding. Just a water gun… this time.

“You *fell* for it [delete name],” he said while walking away, already plotting Plan B.

—–

Dripping Claude runs inside, calls the boss who would care the most and explains the hold up. “We have another situation,” he says, knowing the boss would understand. “Heading your way.”

“We’ll take care of it,” the boss says to him in a deep, level voice made for a crinimal. “We’ll send him to the Abyss. With the others.”

“Good deal.” [Delete name], *pheh*.

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!oosaB

He arrives in a red boat from Ten Pages. He thinks it may be the end of His Second Lyfe, Venus caged. The witch would know, if he could find her. Probably here, don’t you think? Probably here, I think.

Looks like 3 6’s to me. Maybe they’ll be okay.

They waited for the arrival of the legendary surfing blue panther but he never came. Or at least Sozzy Bozo missed him, mask over eyes instead of mouth.

Yoko Ona, fresh from a rock’n commercial over in Enigma, was fixing up a batch of her patented octopus balls in the kitchen and had her back turned, engrossed in her witchy ways under the stove vent.

Maybe next time.

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