Gabby Truth always thought he’d be a good writer if he wasn’t busy gabbing this and that. “Put it down on paper,” his brother Amos often urges. “Stop yapping and start tapping (typewriter keys).” One day he’ll get round to it. And finish reading “Moby Prick”, the great whaling story partially set right here in Cassandra City. “Write a ‘Moby Prick’ yourself,” Amos said upon hearing this desire. “Start *now*.”
So he sits here. Wondering what to put on paper before even inserting the paper. What was the first line of “Moby Prick”? Maybe he can just steal that to start.
But we must get to more urgent matters tonight. Brother Keith is in danger and they know it. Gabby, also a seer as well as a gabber (but apparently not a writer — yet), moves from 1st floor typewriter to 2nd floor fireplace, intending to get more scrying type messages about how to proceed even more forward. They got set up in a swanky Cassandra City apartment thanks to Toppsity connections in town. Keith and daughter Jenny would be joining them later on. The window for information was now. Can’t let Keith know the future else he might damage the threads.
“Well?” his other brother Amos urged after several minutes. “Anything?” Amos was trying to be patient but could see the writing on the wall. Brother Keith could be dead in a matter of days. Maybe even weeks.
Gabby continued staring into the fire. Scrying times were the only times he seemed to be not yammering on about this or that. Maybe he should do it more often, Amos thought. Like: every waking moment. But, in truth, Amos deeply loved his brother — both of ’em. They’d been meaning to visit Keith up in Pipersville for the longest time. Now he had come down South to them. But at what cost?
“Triangle,” Gabby suddenly blurted. “3 A.s.”
“3 A’s?” Amos tried to translate.
“That’s all for now.” Gabby looked away from the fire and toward Amos, wondering what to talk about next. How about the weather.
Amos jumped in first. “We’ll subtly introduce that phrase into our nighttime talks with Keith. See his response.”
“‘Scarlet Triangle,'” blurted Gabby, shaking his head and realizing his powers might be off tonight. “It could be just another book I’ve been meaning to read alongside ‘Moby Prick’. You know, what we were talking about earlier down on the 1st floor. About the novel I always wanted to write.”
“Oh,” said Amos. “Well… it’s worth a try to slip it in still.”
Indeed it was.
“We could use the rocket for good instead of evil,” Cindy A. spoke over to Jim A. after straightening her hair. She had recently been influenced by a book she’d been reading. A famous trip to the Moon.
Jim A. laughed at this. Todd A. joined him. Yoko, having done the deed and brought them all together as a sealed, signed triangle, had slithered away again into the web of time with no rosy prognostication in sight.
“2 rockets will do it — we all agree?” It was Todd A. this time, manager of the project.
“We can send the 1st and see what happens,” offered Jim A. “Gauge the reaction before moving forward with the second.”
Cindy A. was getting sick to her stomach. What had she set in motion?
But they had trained for this. It was always going to be. Forward in time, and then backwards in time to the original point. Cassandra City. Home. But the hitherto thought of home — Pipersville, at least in its original form as Chip Shot: doomed. Worse than doomed.
“How far to be accurate? Would we, say, have to go all the way north to Regaltown to effect the launch?” Todd A. again. “What say you mathematician of the group?”
Jim A. spoke up. “As close to the Neutral Zone as we dare get.”
“How about Golden City,” Cindy A. reluctantly chipped in. The others readily agreed to the future hole. “They had remembered Chip Shot but not their own, retaliatory fate. Much worse it will be for them in the afterlife.
Buster Damm dared to take off a tiny bit of time from studying and scouting to bring our old friend Duncan Avocado into the picture. They sat in the same VHC City diner, at the same table even where the original agreement was made. Duncan still wore the Pot-D heart-within-skeleton-hands pendant. Buster still knew where he was at any moment. “Sooo. Here we are, Duncan.”
“We are,” spoke Duncan plainly. He didn’t hesitate this time; he’d been around the cell block too many times in the meantime. “Whatever it is: yes.”
“Great!” Buster immediately spat in his hand and leaned forwards across the table. 5 minutes till sunrise…
Duncan A. woke up in a captive position, but then stood up. No chains this time. Relief! He wipes his forehead of perspiration and looks around. Pipes. This must be Pipersville Buster talked about. He moves to the table on the far side of the room.
African-American nudie pic, he ruminates. Jim A.’s heartthrob, he understands, the thing that held *him* captive. What happened to her? he wonders, then turns. One way to find out. He ascends the stairs out of there and tries the door: unlocked. Still not a captive.
He opens the door. Music.
Sweet Alice waited for the Magic Bus out of Pipersville. Sweet Alice asked for marriage to Jim A., who she knew as Jim A. Brown, owner of the Diamond Club and keyboardist in the resident band The B.’s. Her father unsurprisingly said no. Hence the birth of the Gno King legend and the entrapment of the fair maid inside the Indecypherable Tower until rescued by Master Ben Bolt five long years later. Only he could break the code.
“What reason do you give *now* for the ‘no'”, she begged before leaving the town perched on the edge of Sink X. Everyone was starting to feel the radiation effects, either directly or indirectly. “Pipes,” he plainly put it to her from his soon-to-be-established Kingdom, which was actually anywhere he physically stood. “Pipes, table, door, bars, um… do I need to go further?” Sweet Alice automatically assumed a modest pose where she covered he clothed body with strategically placed hands. He didn’t need to go further.
yellow green blue DEAD
“If only there were smiles in my Kingdom, Bishop.”
“You just sit there and look pretty. Don’t think about the Lemon and Lime.”
“I *wasn’t* thinking about…”
“Nor the Room.”
“Nor this place we’re in. Where it all ends.”
where it all goes BLUEY
“I’m *not* going back to Jael.”
“I never said you had to go back to jail, sugar lips,” the more cartoonish Archer uttered. “We’ll stay right here don’t you worry. Wait for the end.”
“That’s right, Ms. Lady Lumps. Where it all gets down and dirty. Dirty bomb dirty.”
“Pete. I mean, Wanda.”
“Oh right.” She points to herself. “*I’m* Wanda.”
“I –.” She suddenly looks around. “W-where’s Little Oakley…”
“Annie?” Pete offered. “Target practice probably. Since, well, there’s a big target painted on this whole place.”
“Battle of Britain — I know that.” She titters. “Okay, since it’s all going to end here…” She rushes over and takes Pete’s hand and they Skip to My Lou to the blue rug to do the dirty. Explosion before the explosion. Make love not war I suppose is the message of it all. Good work.
the land of gno smiles
Jim A. pushed for the Gno Kingdom to take the second strike. The others protested that there was no sinkhole about, so no past-to-future matching existed. The Gno Kingdom had never taken a direct or indirect hit and never would. So says the rules of Special Sinkology. Then I’ll lure him to Pipersville myself, schemed revenge motivated Jim A. Brown, his heart ripped from his body and projected onto a demon. Maybe that soul stealer Ben Bolt as well. Oh they’ll write a song about them, he dreams. But it won’t have a happy ending.
“We’re definitely on the right trail, er, Jiggy.”
“Jackie, right right. But I don’t like the way he’s eyeing you.”
“He? How do you know he’s a he?”
“Because, er, he’s eyeing you.” He points over to his assistant. “*You*.” He points to himself. “Not me.”
She stares at it; it stares at her. “Could be a gay eye, you don’t know. *Jimmy*.”
“Johnny,” he corrected. “Um, Tony I meant.”
“You don’t know,” proclaims Jackie.
“I don’t know,” he admitted back. “Jerry,” he tries again. “‘J’ I’m pretty sure.”
“I think it’s Jimmy,” Jackie reinforced. “Like in Little. Jimmy Little. Jimmy Powell Little.”
“Just stop it.”
“Or he — or she — just doesn’t find you attractive.” She looked over at him. “Nah, that’s not it. You’re handsome as f-ing hell. *Jimmy*”
“You’re one to talk,” he decides to say in the void. Did he mean it? Sometimes. On the darkest of azure nights while hanging out in the donut hole.
The Donut Hole
“We’re nearing the end, Jim B., but we have no end. We’re doomed! I’m going to pray for one.”
“Not so fast my fellow B. There’s the car. Fast.”
The person in the back pondered whether to order another box of donuts.
Keith B. unfolded his hands and looked outside. “Little Jimmy? Bought on a whim?”
“No, the other Porsche. The throw-in.”
“Penny 1.01? That old clunker?”
“Maybe the first, then. Whassitsname again?”
“Like the sausage?” which made Keith B. think about something else.
“Um… different than the sausage.”
“I wonder if they have sausage here?” asked sweets weary Jim B.
“Donuts, 12 more donuts!” the yellow man shouts from in back.
back in Cassandra City, then…
“Well here it is. Little Jimmy. The bastard.”
“Over here,” beckoned Keith B. “Wrong car again.”
“Let’s take a spin!”
“You know where.”
“The end,” Jim B. mutters to himself while walking toward it, resigned to his fate.
THIS SIM 05 > 04
“It’s time to reach through the screen again, Baker Bloch.”
“Not one but two Lindens I have brought you to this meeting.”
“The meeting of Lime World vs. World of Lemon,” I attempted to clarify.
“I am a witch, yes. You will listen to me now. I am equal to John. We are two in one.”
“You ruined…” I started to declare.
“Well… besides, you’re not really…”
I paused. “No as in, no you’re not really that person or, um, no you’re really that person?”
THIS SIM 04 03
“We have brought you here to the Hills of Bill to make contact. Love… war… contact.”
“Wheeler,” I state. “What is it you want from me?”
“To set up The Table again. My Table, yes, but also your Table. In 7 Stones if you wish, yes. That seems to be your wish. No?”
“Collagesity is dead, Wheeler.”
“My Collagesity, yes.”
“But we still have The Table. We still have 7 Stones, the replacement.”
“You know what we need to do: Billfork. Lennon plus Pink Floyd plus Firesign Theatre all in one. A great 3-n-1. But it needs *work*. Yours. But also mine. I will help from the other
“You’re probably wondering what happened to Professor Suckaluck but you’ll have to wait for another night.”
“We negotiated a deal. The North will remain Linden (Lime World) territory through and through, with origin in DaBoom.”
“The South: Another matter. Lemon comes into play. World of. A Man named Pierre who goes About Time will give us more details soon.”
“Is Lemon, then, the same as Lennon?” I asked, attempting to get more information in the moment.
“Kind of,” came the answer.
“And Yoko, who is kind of Yoko Ono, Lennon’s wife, negotiated the deal.”
“She helped with the deal, yes. The Scarlet Triangle, the A.Team, has been isolated from the rest of the war machine thanks to her aid. The B.’s come to the fore again. Keith (Bower) and Jim (Brown). They are screeching and spinning their way up to Golden Sink as we speak, which in the days was known as Golden City. Where it all ends, where it all goes down. Rocketship that is. We had to shoot it out of the sky. The war is over and the rocket cannot reach Chip Shot (Pipersville in the future).” She paused.
“Another Lemon?” I asked about the ship, getting warmer.
“He is coming.”
“So as you can see from the screen behind me…” — Woody Woodmanson points to it with his precious golden key for the rest of the group sitting around The Table —
“…it was always suppose to end with the Horns of Hatton. The Crown (Capital) is there,” he continues in his squeaky, shrill voice. So irritating to Wheeler, but she couldn’t make it tonight because of the flu. Perhaps not a coincidence when I think about it. “And that’s my Pitch,” he concludes.
“Richfield is the place we can divert them, where the fork is,” Tealy summarizes some earlier talk from his suave chair behind Woody.
“Horns of Hatton, where they could end up instead of Golden Sink,” exclaims Tillie beside him, similarly facing the screen close up from her partnered suave chair. “The B.’s could be saved.”
“*Fork*” Woody spouts suddenly, making everyone jump because of the, you know, voice. So irritating, I’m sure Wheeler would think at this point — if she were here. He was channeling the key again. When he channels the key, his voice tends to become *really* irritating (in Wheeler-speak), with all the “negative” aspects magnified. The key has power that way.
Options 8 and 8A
“Why are we stopping here, Keith?” asked Jim, concerned with time as usual.
“I don’t know I don’t know,” answered his riding mate, his maths buddy. “I just feel… a choice needs to be made here. Juncture.” He indicates the map of Satori to their left.
“No,” returns Jim A. Brown emphatically. “We *need* to keep going up Route 8 to Golden City so that you can get back to your daughter in time for at least a late breakfast. It’s already almost light. Wasn’t my idea to go on this joy ride.” But it was totally his idea. His and the Unholy Trinity as a whole. The Scarlet Triangle — the A.Team. Keith B. needed to be thrown under a bus. But since none ran this route, a sports car would have to do. A cursed car.
Still Keith didn’t budge. “Listen,” urged Jim B., intuitively sensing some sort of outside energy influencing current affairs. “We’re about halfway there. Let me drive the rest of the way. You just take a rest. Think of some more maths while you’re relaxing.” Like the theorems connecting Golden City to Golden Sink, dufus, Jim B. thought to himself. We need your brains one last time!
“You don’t drive fast enough,” replies Keith. “Your hair won’t be all spiked up like mine if you bothered to take off your cap.”
We will notice here a similar thing happened to another character’s hair earlier in our story, and for the same reason : a screeching and spinning car. Perhaps a type of Porsche as well, but probably not the same one since the earlier vehicle was painted red. We’re talking about one Craighead Phillips, who just happens to be Keith’s future son-in-law. If he lives long enough to get any further into the future than this weekend. I’d give it 1/2 and 1/2 at this point. Jenny may not even have a father when she meets Craighead a number of years down the road and then elopes to Nautilus for a quickie wedding after an unplanned pregnancy. Preston Weston, the first of three children for her. Jenny becomes Your Mama for real. But we must get back to the Fork of Bill. For that is what it’ll be known as for future generations, whatever happens next.
Little Oakley Annie and Big Wanda were foraging for fire kindling in the small forest when they heard the car roar by then suddenly screech to a halt. LOA threw down the sticks she was holding and moved over to the cliff on the edge of the woods. They had prepared for this moment. “The car,” she whispered to Big Wanda, now standing behind her and gazing too. “A *fast* car. We could use a replacement for that old red clunker we’re now using.”
“Which you stole off that farmer before you shot his head off,” whispered back Big Wanda.
“Well — he *sneezed* in front of me. How dare him.”
Despite wanting to protest again for the needlessness of the violence, Big Wanda remained silent. But, like Keith B. in front of her here, she too had a choice to make soon. Sooner than Keith, even.
Little Oakley Annie aimed her ever-present gun at Keith’s head. “I’ll make sure I get a clean hit so we won’t damage the Porsche. The other dude will then run and we can mow him down too. Like grasssss.” She pulled the…
Big Wanda karate chopped Little Oakley Annie’s arm down, making her almost shoot her own foot. “What the…!”, and then she turned toward her partner in crime, gun still in hand. The weapon pointed to the face, the mouth, the nose, while the holder glared. “I should have done this a looong time ago, ” she then threatens, moving toward Big Wanda while the latter retreats, now perched on the edge of the cliff. “You almost disappointed me at the Your Mama concert. 12 years in the future, 12 years in the future, 12 years in the future…”
“Hey up there!” Keith shouts from the road, quickly moving toward the cliff from the car. Jim A. Brown, however, remains frozen in place in the passenger seat. He would always remain frozen in place from now on. Because he was stuck in time.
And there was noone at the cliff any longer. Little Oakley Annie and Big Wanda’s journey through time had also ended, the Big Loop broken.
Keith looked back at the car and frozen Jim B., then back toward the empty cliff. “The Room,” he muttered. “The Room did this.” He dropped to the roads and gave thanks.