Tag Archives: Wendy^^++$

December 3, 2020 · 7:41 am

00230306

She describes the parcel. “Planet X, in the same sim of Icefyre as Mercury X. (Rising). And then the Mercury capsule just beyond in Neptune sim’s Neptune Bay. So many planets I see.”

“Icy planets, yes. Well: Neptune. Planet X I suppose as well, since it’s suppose to be beyond Neptune. I think.” Merry Gouldbusk’s sometimes lover Sandy Beech looks around at the sandy beach that represents the 512 parcel known as Planet X. Not much here. Just a couple of palm trees, couple of chairs and a “lounging boat”, a central patio fire, and several bags that use to contain men’s sandals before they were unpacked and put in someone’s inventory. Presumably the owner of the parcel, one [delete name].

“I suppose *this* is my queendom now. I can’t go back to Rosehaven. They already have a princess. I was just a (stunted) double for another.”

“True enough.” Sandy thinks here of his own doppleganger, a more cartoon-ish version of himself named Desert Knobb.

“Annnnd CUT!” Eraserhead Man calls offscreen in front of them. “That was great guys. Since Sandy is thinking of Desert here, let’s just switch him out. So Walter, if you would just change places with Herbert over there. Just say the same lines that Sandy was suppose to say in the script. Improvise if you feel the need.” The 2 actors switch places. “Annnnnnd ACTION!”

“Have I ever told you about the place I’m from? Great Belt? It’s very close to here: Icefyre. In fact they…”

“… may be one and the same,” Merry completed. Sandy was on his beach, Sandy was on his island. He can never leave. Just like me.

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November 28, 2020 · 10:07 am

Slot Mtn. Castle

She dreamed she was in a grim place. She had to get to the head before the head got to her. She saw the head, the head sawed she! Little skulls littered the cell floor. Like hers.

“I need to find you 102.”

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November 23, 2020 · 6:15 am

end of Tull? (skating away)

Not here, eh? thinks visiting Wheeler from over at NWES City. He said he’s *always* here, spinning around the place on that oh-so-handy skateboard of his. And I so wanted to thank him for the other day. Oh well… just have to tell the others here that I came by; leave it at that. Maybe next time. I’ll try to message the little fellow.

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November 23, 2020 · 6:14 am

Mary York x 2

“See. I *told* you if we waited long enough he would change colors.”

“Very good, Sandy. I need to tell a story now.”

“Go ahead, Wheeler, um, Wendy,” encouraged Sandy. It was her turn after all.

“I was wheeling my way from Picturetown, trying not to be late for the Blue Feather meeting with Baker and, er, the other one. The green toy fellow.”

“You know his name,” Sandy complained.

“Anyway, I see my name on the side of a small square house as it comes into view around another house…”

“Lemme guess. Which has the same name.”

“Yes!”

“Do you want my apples yet?” asks Harrison Ford Jett opposite Sandy now, waiting his turn. He was eager to give them up. He wanted to be a man for Charlene.

“Not yet. We already have the orange and that’s enough for now,” answered Sandy. “Bananas: not needed.”

“So I’ve heard.” Harrison Ford Jett glances sideways at his own partner, his own bestie. They both knew something the other 2 didn’t. That Charlene the Punk was… well it should be obvious by the shirt. We’ll get a pic in a moment. Back to Picturetown and Wendy’s story who is the same as Wheeler.

“In that frozen moment, it was then I noticed a (red) car on the other side of the road from the buildings with my name, also coming into clear view from behind a passing truck. Before the obscuration I knew it was an ordinary car. Now, after the passing, it had a flat. Then *I* had a flat. I became the car.”

“Carrcassonnee?” Harrison Ford Jett guessed, turning his attention to the story and away from his gnawing apples, those chafing, gnawing things in his shirt-blouse. His head pivots to Charlene. “Carrcassonnee is a deity of the Temple…”

“I know who Carrcassonnee is. She’s talking about a car.” Let’s get a picture of that shirt in the pause here.

Oh well, turns out we can’t see it from this angle. Sandy presses the issue on. “Blue again,” he says while staring at the tiny snowman in the midst of it all, formerly All Orange. “We’re losing the reader’s attention.” He wondered if he remembered that line correctly. Must be director Eraserhead Man breaking the 4th wall once more. He glanced at the camera, pretending it was the reader he mentioned. He complimented himself for the improvisation before fully coming back into character.


Wheeler/Wendy as a car.

“I looked over at the square building again. My name was obscured once more (around the corner). I knew I couldn’t make it to the meeting on time. Then, in a flash, everything changed. A boy came by on a skateboard.”

(to be continued?)

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November 23, 2020 · 6:14 am

besties

“It’s over, Sandy,” Baker Bloch said from the bench in front of the canvas. The search for All Orange: done.”

“I know,” he speaks over from the game he and Wendy and perhaps several others are playing. Not Carcassonne, but close, because tiles are involved, jigsaw shaped ones in this case, which they are sitting on as well as playing with. They are playing with themselves.

“Whose move, Wendy?” he asks.

“Yours.” They switch jigsaw pieces with each other while Baker continues to stare.

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November 1, 2020 · 12:51 pm

name

Santa wasn’t happy. I think he was about to run me over in his flying saucer, *ZZzzOOOOOmmm*! I wake up.

—–

“Another dream about the election dearest?” Wendy. Good ol’ Wendy. Always there during consciousness. Until the end.

—–

In the next Marwood bot dream, Norm, another local resident, took over from Santa. “Sit down,” he commanded, indicating a chair in front of the guillotine I was beheaded with just the night before. And a donkey’s alongside it.

Red hat still firmly attached to skull, I sat under the Ace of Diamonds I posed beside last night before the beheading. I knew this because I was looking on as an observer rather than being a direct participant. “There is no Other,” he said to begin our conversation proper. “There is only *Here*.” I’d heard this before. I sat in the chair.

—–

It was Miss Graham, formerly Jennifer M. Friend. She was then there, “DEMO” still tattooing head, which my mind started running again and again around the cap line of her skull, like a looped film. Faster… faster. Blurred… then suddenly stabilization once more. Slowing down. 7610 this time: clarity; focusing in. I stared again at Norm. We had been here before.

The tie was back. I had to get to work. Fast!

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October 30, 2020 · 5:13 am

Snowmanster

He was dreaming again, hence the tie. “This is a little f-ed up,” he said to the woman nearby, who didn’t reply. No, he didn’t like this place. He had found a limit. Wendy would not be his daughter or something. He’d leave all that to Toothpick and Elberta and their Deep South ways (!). He’d have to talk to Eraserhead Man about this shoot, compare it to DaBob in that other production he worked in, the one less famous. Or was it more famous. Snap out of it, snap out of it! he cried inside while snapping his fingers, which, of course, passed through each other. Tarboo Bay, DaBob, The Twins… they were all together; all in on this. What does it mean? He better get Wendy to safety and out of the shiny light of revealing film while she’s still wearing that dress. He knows a guy who knows a guy in Snowlands who has a remote-ish cabin kind of tucked away in some small woods, getting smaller by the month but Barry DeBoy doesn’t know that in the present. He’d only find out about the deforestation of Purden in the future through a rogue Snowman gone good instead of the usual bad but still with a bad Santa, one called Satan, an obvious anagram (too obvious). The Snowman’s name is… well, let’s just wait. Regular readers of this here blog and derivative photo-novels probably already know the name. Let’s just make it the title of this here post.

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October 30, 2020 · 5:13 am

revealing

It was all so very funny, Supper Man and his new arch-nemesis Toothpick battling it out for the right to marry Dinner Girl and/or Elberta first. Because their fists and, occasionally, feet kept passing through each other. Neither was real. Onlooking Barry DeBoy determined it was a dream a while back because he was wearing the red tie. In reality he didn’t possess this tie any more — gave it to Miss Graham the schoolteacher in exchange for… what? A life without the 5 looking on. A life without Pan-Z. He felt the precious tie one last time before waking up, instead holding the air in front of his chest as it vanished into nothingness again. The Great Void. Blackness. “Yippy tie one on I suppose,” he tried to humor himself in the moment, but he’d also heard the word “tile” used in that expression recently over at the temple. Funny again. “Yippy tile one on” — made sense as well.

He rolls over. Helloo, who’s this?


Dreaming still. Wake up, wake up! But he didn’t want to suddenly. Wendy wakes up instead, tells him who he is. Not “Q”, because that’s already been covered. The symbol on the hat could pass for a “Q” but he didn’t want it to now, not for Wendy.

—–

“Annnnnnd CUT! That was great guys! But — Wendy. We need to get you out of *that* dress and into the blood stained one as soon as possible! The Twins are breathing down my back, bearing down on my neck! You need to be invisible down there.”

Wendy knew what he was talking about but didn’t care. Wasn’t she Miss Graham reincarnated? She was. Didn’t she give Hucka Doobie the red tie procured from Barry DeBoy in a similar way before and send her away? She most assuredly did. Baker and she were getting too close. “Barry, *you* are Baker,” she said earlier. “You are the artist that is going to paint CITY and save us all from suburbia.” He turned it over in his mind like a rubik’s cube and saw the truth in it. Better get back to work…

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October 26, 2020 · 8:00 am

redhead

“Well, the apartment’s ours again, Wendy. We have a new start here at Bigfoot.”

“Wonderful.” She was truly happy about the situation. She was truly Wendy in the moment, mediocre actress Alice Frame a far away dream for both of them. It was just like with Breeze before. Sandy should have known by the names — Wendy; Breeze. Together: Breezy, the archetype thereof.

“But I do insist you change into the other dress as soon as possible. The Twins are still out there… somewhere. The Cub Run consignment store is a thing to be reckoned with.”

“I know.” She smooths her present dress’ puffed out nature, not ready to show Sandy too much too soon. She knew how he was. But she was ready to take the gamble that she could change him. She’s betting that he’s ready to settle down with one woman and one woman only. For more than a week’s stretch. The search for All Orange: over. She knew she was the one. The right dress will come soon enough. Then he can see what he wants to.

“Let’s run away, Wendy,” Sandy then tries. “Forget about The Twins. We’ll hide out in one of the suburb cities away from town, maybe this Meat City I’ve been studying up on. There’s a place there you can dance. My new friend Francis can probably get you a job. Then I can run the slot machines next door or something. Maybe work at a newspaper office like I did before in Tinseltown–”

“Stop,” she demanded. Both knew the impossibility of it all. They were stuck in Town, formerly the City before the council told everyone otherwise. Their new landlord MAT is fighting it — wrote a strong guest editorial in the well respected Meat City Post, a true up and coming rival to the NWES City Gazette which I guess will have to be changed to the NWES Town Gazette now, perhaps weakening its position as top dog further. Collagesity be damned, Sandy thinks. But MAT makes some persuasive arguments.

(to be continued)

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October 21, 2020 · 5:31 pm

Breezy

Turns out it was all just a dream. The pink plastic couch Andy Warhole sat upon while fellow artist Barry DeBoy dreamed lying down on the same is gone, and the 2 rooms of the apartment have indeed merged, just like Andy wished. Dreams and reality are certainly getting mixed up in ol’ NWES City, soon to be changed to NWES Town if certain members of the city council had their way, in reaction to all the “cities” springing up around it, like arrogant, belligerent suburbs. First there was Zen City, then Meat City. The list goes on. And then there’s Collagesity, which had the audacity to neatly and tightly integrate itself into the very fabric of NWES City and become one with it almost, another insult to the term. How could something call itself a city (or sity in this case) and be so much smaller than NWES City, lost in the coattails like a small child to a towering mother. No, these *satellites* must not be termed cities. It is wrong. And in comic reaction the mother who has the only real claim to the name (it feels) might instead abort it.

But we digress. We need to find out the whereabouts of Barry DeBoy. Poor thing: he’s lost his original home in the city to fire (Norm the Cashier’s Flower Shop), and then the apartment with the pink couch, as we’ve mentioned, is all just a dream. We must find out where he’s *really* dreaming, physically that is. He *must* have a location in town, er, the city — let’s not move too fast on that.

—–

He is dreaming again of his beach, searching for the one who also gave up red but with no physical presence yet found.

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