Ripped Windmill Man, as they called him, was assigned the role of night guard for Ruby the green grey Alien, currently holed up down at the fire station for further protection from those darn psychic kids. Half policeman half army man, he was more than equipped to fulfill the duty — overqualified, Ben Bolt said, eager to get the job as well to support his own troupe of kids, 2 psychic and 1 mundane from an early marriage (the former Mary Bolt, now married to Alfred Reynolds the shoe cobbler). His ripped body wouldn’t fit through some of the doors there, he argued. His half policeman half army man training made him all bastard, he tried. Jim Wells, father of Alice Wells who Ben was also trying to woo along with the job, would have none of it. “Windmill’s a fine man. He has 3 ripped bodies that he can strip like a snake or lizard or something if needed to fit through any door. It’s *just* a night guard job, Ben,” he said to a potential son-in-law he didn’t want. “Maybe you should aim a little higher, hmm? How about — manager of the day care; help keep an eye on those psychic toddlers, make sure they don’t get into trouble *too* early.” Because Jim Wells knew it would come to trouble later on as they aged a bit, spontaneous fires being only one potential hazard. “The firemen, the policemen, heck the *army* men can’t do anything about them once they reach a certain age, some say 5, others: 7.”Jim Wells realized he was making a case for ripped Windmill Man to take the day care managerial job instead of Ben Bolt and stopped. His future son-in-law — if it came to that — would *not* be a night guard at the fire station, no way Jose.
Ripped Windmill Man stripped his 2 outer ripped bodies so he could fit comfortably through the door and look in on Ruby. “Everything all right in here?” he asked, checking the corners of the fire station’s storage room again for bugs. He was sensing something but didn’t know what.
“Tell him everything is okay,” commanded unseen Billie Jean Kidd from the side. Turns out Ruby had already been compromised and the firemen, the policemen, the army men couldn’t do a darn thing about it.
(to be continued)
spheres and cubes (still at center 02)
Original parents had plans for the Nautilus continent still. Diagonal.
And sneaking up on people.
Land of TILE (cubes and spheres 02)
Pears of Wisdom (take my knife… please (Bigfoot))
“I’m going to be the first person on Mars!”
“Do you know of the Boos, then?”
Kolya wondered about the plane, and that the bird is a plane. He takes another sip of stale lemonade on top of his birdbath, wishing he could meet up with that magical turtle again — Meanie, he thought — to get a fresh one.
“Yelloo!” still knife challenged Lemon said in greeting upon entering the scene. “Welcome!”
something to behold
“It’s a beautiful land, Mr. Koala.” Kolya didn’t correct his name for Mr. Lemon. Now he wasn’t sure if it *was* Kolya. Koala (Koyala) sounds good too. “You should talk to your owner about moving here — if the price is right. We, the residents of this place, would certainly welcome you. Open arms!”
“I think…” he started, “my owner… wants to stay between the two roads.”
“13 and 14, yes. M and N. Makes sense.” Lemon’s eyes start watering. He soo wanted the stranger to… take his place. This *man*.
Pear swinging in the hammock nearby in this treehouse in disguise chimed in. “Wizard,” he said in a voice pitched higher than the rest, even Lemon. “This man is a wizard.” It was as if he were reading his partner and friend Lemon’s mind. And so it is.
“The birds will decide,” declared Lemon back into Pear’s own mind without saying it aloud this time. “As they always do.”
Kolya went to the balcony, attracted by the sound of a passing eagle. It seemed to say his name (but which one?).
“He can do it he can do it he CAN… do it,” opined Pied Flycather to friend Yellow Crowned Gonolek down below, who wasn’t so sure.
More opinions will come.
(to be continued)
darke and light
“You betcha!” squealed Cosmos to the left.
“Ain’t gonna happen!” retorted partner if not necessarily friend Lightsville to her right.
Kolya could almost hear them speak in his brain damaged head. The rain continues…
not understanding collage
“I’d like to buy a vowel please?”
But collage he did anyway — despite of or perhaps even because of the rising Boos danger. They started conglomerating in the center of the critter laden place, coming together to make an ultimate decision. Should he stay or should he go. Holey Kolya listened and watched from the side, not quite grasping what was happening. But he knew they were talking about him. And someone called The Wizard.
Grown up Alysha begins. “I have so many papers to grade,” she speaks into the microphone after teleporting in from Darkewood. “And I’m soo sleepy.”
“The rain gets in (his head),” said Hidi just afterwards, lowering herself a bit from Alysha’s position in order to speak directly from her heart. “But I love him.”
She turned to Kolya with this. “In his *dreams*.”
Front and center Lemon and his less positive bud Lime were next. This was the crux of the matter, one up and down and the other side to side. How to coordinate (worlds)?
“Here,” Lime said. “Let me at least get this out of your back while I’m hugging you.” But like with the King Arthur legend the knife stayed put. For now.
Sandy Struthers knew there were too many birds and other creatures in this *TILE* location to make an unified decision on the matter of Kolya and his holey head. She’d have to look elsewhere for answers. Her thoughts turn toward the castle that will soon perch on an important peak to the north. *Her* castle.
There’s already one in the area, and at about the same altitude on its own nearby peak. Spacious and beautifully landscaped grounds surround it, which we’re eager to keep exploring. This won’t be the case with Sandy’s castle due to much more limited space to work with but we’ll try our best.
And in the past, another roosted on this higher peak to the northwest. The legendary Rust Never Sleeps.
Jacob I. the lawnmower is still on the same northern peninsula. “Wake up,” Sandy whispers while prodding.
Mine all mine. But what to *do* with it?
Maybe meet the neighbors if possible. The twin castle to mine!
And papa told me to guard this sword with my life. It can’t move! I suppose that means the castle will be derezzed with the sword, since they’re interconnected. Stabber of Lemon, he said. Told me the whole story once when I was small. Oh how I wish he were here to tell it again! My poor papa.
I will make this my room, my home base in the castle. I can look after it better that way.
I need friends! Oh… the other castle… on the peak almost equally as high as my own. Might as well say they’re the same. Papa would know all about it, I suppose.
I will *make* friends in the meantime. Up in my head, I mean. And then they pop up in reality. Like you. Who are you?
“My name is George,” he said to her with his newly minted lips, reading her mind of course. Since it was his mind as well. “And I am your future husband.”
I can’t see the castle on this peak either, Sandy.”
“Silly. There *is* no castle on that peak. Not any more. Not for a long time. The reason you couldn’t see it on the other peak we just looked at is because your draw distance was too short. Don’t you know *anything* about Our Second Lyfe, tee hee?”
“That’s where Ruuster’s castle use to be, though. Some say he was an actual rooster, a creature. Some say he was called that because he *roosted* on the peak, like some kind of bird, rooster or no. My papa taught me that. Said sometimes there’re multiple ways of looking at the same thing and sometimes none is right but at the same time *all* are right. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“Suppose,” he repeated. Sandy started wondering about his brain, and maybe she didn’t finish the boy properly — left holes where thoughts should be, rationalization. “You say… we’re suppose to get married.”
“Um huh.” He was still staring at the empty beige peak, perhaps 50 meters higher than the one they are on. He was staring at himself.
“Can you elaborate? I mean, it’s rather shocking that you know that.”
“I can see the future.” He turns. “You can see the future. We are all angles.”
“Angels?” She purposely misheard him but he didn’t laugh, didn’t get the joke or just didn’t care. Maybe both are right, she realized: angles *and* angels. Are *they* angels?
George turned back to the beige mountain seen through the diamond paned window. “Roost never sleeps. It’s an ironic name, then, because that’s what birds or roosters or whatever are suppose to do when they roost. Sleep.”
Maybe his brain is alright after all. Those are pretty deep thoughts he’s thinking there, she thought, pondering the irony herself. Her daddy had said the same thing. Roost never sleeps, corrupted to rust never sleeps.
George looked down from the peak to the green grounds below. “Well well well, if it isn’t the Wells.” Why did the boy say *that*? Is someone actually approaching? Or was this just more word play?
“They’re trying to find the front door,” he then said. “Better go down and help them”
“The… neighbors?” she guessed. He just stared at her again and then extended his arm. “After you.”
(to be continued)
returned (missing no more)
“Honey! I’m home!”
“We lived on that island for, I don’t know, 5 years, me, Jacob I. and the kid.”
“The cat,” I clarified (for the reader). “Broken Heart.”
“Yeah, that one. That was before I met
Philip Stymie and moved to another island. Same house, though — I just moved it through space. I could do that by that point.”
“The wisteria… helped?”
“Sure did (!).”
“Tell me about Stymie, then. He was a different species. I mean, he wasn’t like Jacob.”
“No, he was different from me. Had the 2 eyes instead of the one. I was a pure bred. Jacob was half alien half human, with 2 eyes still below the third. Broken Heart was both animal and tiny in a similar way. We were happy. But perhaps… we were too similar in the end. Jacob moved to the peninsula; figuratively fell asleep for years and years, maybe at the castle but maybe all over the peninsula — the peninsula itself. Eyes (species) sometimes have a tendency to do that: drift off for a large amount of time, doing nothing, at least on the outside. Inside we still have a rich and vibrant life. I’ve done the same.”
“You are figuratively dead?”
“Could be. Listen do you want some more lemonade? How about some pear juice?”
“We never did build that castle, Stymie and I. But we had a heck of a moat.”
“Now maybe things have changed.”
“Where were you happier, Eyela? Can I call you Eyela?”
Leila thought it over and decided to say yes.
“Thank you. It’s the same house, the same structure I understand. But different islands, different men. Did you have a cat at Viterbo?”
“No. Broken Heart went with Jacob I. They were more a couple than we were. That was always the case. The weed drew them together. The high grass.” Here Leila/Eyela puffed an imaginary doobie to emphasize her point.
“Yes, I remember hearing about that. So… you were happier with Stymie?”
(to be continued)
“Bear with us,” the small lion cub requested to the reader while the tiger ran offscreen to take a piss.
“Oh *my*,” the tiny cat exclaimed upon seeing the white menagerie.
She was at the heart of the heart shaped island, pale as snow. Mary was the owner. This was the foothold Jacob I. needed to get to the peninsula and away from Leila, then still called Eyela. Broken Heart knew they had to split up and it broke her heart to think about it. But fate must unfold properly, broken or not. “Be a lamb, dear, and make my drink for me,” Mary requested to Broken Heart after the introductory formalities. “Right over there (she pointed to the bar behind Broken Heart from this angle); Bloody Mary if you will.” Broken Heart didn’t know what she was doing in mixing the drink but she tried her best. Mary knew it would turn out perfect, whatever. After all, this was all imaginary and she had control of everything. At least at this spot. “Faaannntastic,” she said a little later while sipping, head already beginning to turn a bit red. She began to feel (like) herself again, aah. The cold was receding.
But she remained a broken figure, as broken as Heart herself. They could commiserate with each other now.
“I love him.”
“No *I* do.”
Alysha took the hint. She reckons *she* is the angel. And also the angle; 1/2 and 1/2. Right?
She must think about Austra again, and its division into Upper and Lower and where that’s heading. Not up here that’s for sure. Too north. Rooster’s Peninsula is different from Austra. But how? Sandy’s castle will provide us clues. It’s all set up over in Lebettu, which we’ll get back to shortly.
This must be the Heart Queen’s bar where Broken Heart Jackie made her that Bloody Mary which turned her back into red, thump thump thump. She sat down — no bartender in sight still, just a chinchilla drinking something out of a half coconut, perhaps a piña colada she rationalized. It made her think of Kolya and him drinking the same in, where was it, the Aviary she believes. Or maybe his glory holes, pheh… maybe it wasn’t Kolya at all, maybe it was one of her other men, the ones without the visible head gaps. Hole exploration: it was a whole ‘nother story. The Controller’s papers piled up and up, reaching all the way now to Rooster’s Peninsula.
And here she was, going too far again. “Last sip!” squealed the chinchilla, and noisily finished the drink, suck suck suck. There would be no more offered today.
Nothing left to do but to take a nap.
Lemon meets Lime (“Yelloo!”)
Slowly but surely it’s all coming together. Reality links up with the reality inside of it. Fannntastic.
More details to come. Stay tuned!
It all seemed to make sense to her now (as the Controller). Easy as 1-2-3.
She reaches for the phone to ring up Kolya. She’s ready.
“Hi. It’s me.”
“Hmph. Never showed up.”
He turned one last time to the door before leaving.
“No more shells,” he rather commanded to Alysha in a role switcheroo, fed up with being treated like a toddler. “*I* am real (this time).”
“Okay.” But of course the holes remained. Glory could only be glimpsed, but maybe it was worth it. Afterwards his neck hurt like a mo fo, but he doesn’t think it is about what they did.
Alysha ponders afterwards: Kolya *can* get better. If he changes into Windmill, hmm. Bit older, but what can you do? And then the diagonal can be traced all the way to Maebaleia — where we are now. Self image.