Tag Archives: Your Mama^^~~

Pipersville

“Of course, Albert. She *belts* out tunes like no one and she does this at The Diamond owned by a Black (man). We must get in touch with this Jim A.; see what he knows about The Room. Something happened there, er, Alberta… sorry about the name before.”

“That is okay, sir,” Alberta the Selenite butler dutifully assured. “I am but a humble servant, ready to serve.”

“I think I’ll wear the Great Belt again — stare out at the tire.” He knew he could get additional insights this night. Energy was obviously strong here in Urqhart or thereabouts now that Collagesity had been manifested. So exciting! Green: so green here. No arid, desert-like surroundings to deal with any longer. He was *free*.

Alberta returned with the belt. “Here it is, sir. Do you…?”

“No. I can do it,” requested Barry X. Vampire, knowing what Alberta was going to ask. He didn’t need help getting it on this time. He was getting use to the contraption. And the shock. More difficult for a man!

—–

“I think it’s working, Albert!” he called back, happy in the moment.

“That’s very fine, sir.”

—–

He deftly straddled the Baja Bullet, looking around. Star, huh? Yeah, he was in the right place. Now to find Your Mama and, hopefully, Jim A. as well.

Maybe start at the Starlite up there…

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The Room

Brown/Beige was tittering yet again. At basically nothing this time. “Who (*snicker*) is that *girl* over there? (pause) Playing that (*giggle*) game?” she asked bestie Marsha “Pink” Krakow at the gas station owned by Pete Oesso now.

But suddenly she was *there*, stars on her shoes. Someone had been in her shoes before. Similar choices.

She stepped back from the machine that had nothing on it. She looked over: Brown/Beige was gone from the window seat. She was alone in the gas station.

She changed again, remembering more.

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radiation

“Sam? Samuel Hooker?” Pause. “Alvin Straight — you did say Alvin didn’t you, Preston?”

“Yeah, ma, heh.”

“Alvin Straight?” Your Mama pronounced more confidently toward the back of the tv store. “Samuel Hooker?”

I can’t face them, but I *gotta* face them,” experienced repairman Alvin Straight thinks just around the corner. If only Sam “Mr. Colored TV” Hooker would come out from hiding and *see* — actually *see* what’s in this thing. Truly understand the danger of what he has set forth into motion. Into *play*.

“Sam?” Your Mama calls again. “Alvin?”

Gotta go face them.

—–

“A malfunctioning chip?” Your Mama questions. “What does that mean? How much will it cost to repair, Mr. Repairman?”

“I see lots of question marks,” replied Alvin Straight, shaking at what he estimates to be a ballpark figure.

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and barber makes three

—–

“When did this barber shop get here? Anyway, we’re here.”

Cool, mama. I’m tired of falling into the tv set and losing a couple of hours each time. That, heh, thing *needed* to be fixed.”

“Well, we’ll see if, let’s see, what was his name again?”

“Sam Hooker?” responded Preston Weston, good on names if bad on grades.

“Hooker, yes,” responded Your Mama, proud to have a son for the moment.

“And Alvin Straight, the other one. The Straight Guy.”

“Very good. Such a good memory.” They were at the front door.

“Should have bought a Zenith all along,” she muttered before opening it.

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scarlet

“Do you think I’m pretty, Jim A. *Sorry* — Jim B. I did it again.”

“You *did* do it again,” spoke Jim B. from the bed. “You’re *always* doing that. There never *was* a Jim A. It’s *B*. Always was, always will be.”

“Jim Brown,” Your Mama pronounces the name fully. “But you didn’t answer me. Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“That’s not what you asked,” Jim B. answers, tightening the noose around his neck. Definitely not a nouse. Definitely not Jim A.

Later…

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teeth

Preston Weston heard his own voice on the tape his father was viewing. “Hey dad?”

“Yes son,” slouching Craighead Phillips Option 01 said from the couch.

“Whatcha watching, heh?”

“Oh, just your school play you put on last year. Can’t get enough of it.” He chuckles at something his son said on the videotape, currently playing the role of Hamlet.

“Cool, cool, heh.”

There was silence between the two as dad watched act 01 scene 03 unfold.

“Hey son. There’s Felicia Mae Appletree. Didn’t you have a thing for her (mother) last year?”

“Yeah, heh, a thing,” returns Preston Weston, thinking: duh, still a thing, dad.

“What did you use to say about her? — so cute.”

“Geez, I don’t know, dad.” Pacman level 3 had just been reached by eating the last red ghost.

“Yeah, he he, I remember. You said, that apple tree needs shaking, dad.”

“Right. I remember.” A new ghost appears, new apple color. Green this time.

More silence as each are engrossed in their respective activities. Then Craighead Phillips abruptly switches off the new colored TV his wife bought just this afternoon. “Well, I’m satisfied with the product, Preston. How do you like the new colored monitor we bought in tandem, eh? 1/2 price on each. What a deal.”

“It’s, er, *great* dad. Never knew there were more than two shades of ghosts. All these colors, heh!”

“Okay, we’re both satisfied. Let’s go tell your mother.”

“Oh, heh. Mom always goes out at about this time to the bridge club.”

“Oh… well, um, let’s get something to eat, eh? Little snack before supper?”

—–

“I’m on my dessert already and you haven’t even hardly touched your sandwich yet. What gives?”

“Oh, a little belly ache I suppose, heh.” Preston Weston forces himself to take another bite of the BLT before him, knowing that his mama would fix a full meal only about an hour later that he would be *required* to finish.

“How was school today? I forgot to ask earlier.”

“Fine, dad. Thanks for picking me up,” he said with a mouthful.

“You’re welcome.” *slurp*

“How’s, er, mom’s mouse?”

“That’s mousse, son. And it’s fine.” *slurp*. “Almost perfect, actually.”

“Oh right. Mousse, like the animal moose. Not a mouse, hehe, heh.”

“Right son.” *double slurp* “Well, I’m done. Guess it’s time to go.”

“You heading back to — where, heh, did you say you came from today?”

“Athlone Village. In the middle of it all, which is — go ahead and say it with me, son.”

“Which is unfortunately in the way,” they utter in tandem, Preston Weston rather reluctantly, tired of the old saying.

—–

“What time did your father leave today, Preston Weston?” Her voice suddenly had that edge to it. Father talk edge.

“Oh, heh. Um, about 4 I guess. Maybe, heh, closer to 5?”

“Bridge time, then, hmm,” Your Mama dismissed.

Preston Weston wanted to ask his mother if that bridge would ever get built but resisted the urge.

She turned to her other son, in the chair. “How about you Robin? When did *you* get home from the wilds? Did you also see your father?”

I’m not his son, he thought. “Oh, about 5 as well. Must have just missed him, sorry.” He wasn’t sorry.

They all kept watching “Leave it to Beav” in living color after this. Starring: the Beav.

“Look ma,” Preston Weston indicated. “Like *me*!”

He was suddenly inside the TV set again, 3 hours lost.

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Your Mama

Curling up in a fetal position helped her cope with her fears. The sound of Preston Weston and the others eating some crunchy munchy cereal they requested comforted her as well. Here was her safe spot during breakfast, the clear place where she could think rationally about things. Like her weight problem (you’re *not* that overweight!); her drinking problem (3 glasses of wine a night for a woman my size is fine); her… other problem (having 3 lovers on the side is natural for a woman my… um, size? weight?).

She rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. Preston Weston is currently chatting up Robin about some comic book he’s reading disgustingly called “666 Satan”. Says he wants to date this Ruby who’s a star within. This gets her pondering about her own star, which seems to be sinking. Displaced by a — well, she shouldn’t think that but it’s true. A black woman. A black woman with *horns*. Satan seems to have come to town and taken up residence.

She then decides that today is the day. Colored TV has also come to town, perhaps connected, she ruminates. It’s time for the black and white Sylvania to go away. Zenith’s where it’s at now. After breakfast she and Preston will go into town again before the TV shop disappears along with the laundromat, massage parlor, kitchen shop, etc. etc. before it. Maybe Jim A. will come by later on. Then she realizes that Jim A. has been in a coma for 20 years, frozen in time. It was Jim *B.* that comes to visit her, 1/2 of the famous or infamous band known as The Basterds (“The B.’s”) along with her father Keith B. Ahh, the old team. He should have never given up the ol’ circle within circle drums. That’s when it all started: the slide.

(to be continued)

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