-
Search Results
-
In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
Whilst in the sewer, Sadie had time to ponder a few things which she couldn’t yet make sense of. She wondered why Linda Paul was sending them to retrieve a crocheted ferret. And she was still not sure what century they were being sent to. Despite these small glitches, she was determined to go with the flow and remain positive. All would no doubt be revealed. She looked at her 3 companions.
“Perhaps our new team motto could be Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.” she said with a bright smile.
In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
“Aaahahah…” Linda Paul ended her laugh abrutptly and looked fearsomely at the three newly dubbed Musqueerteers. “You thought the competition was over, girls ? It had only just begun.”
The girls swallowed in unison, all pouting disappeared from their young drag faces.
“Sadie Merrie will guide you through the Time Sewer Machine, and your next challenge will be to arrive clean and shiny at your destination. A broken nail… A lost eyelash”
The crowd of defeated queens and the other clients gaped as Linda Paul’s kept silent longer than necessary.
“And you’ll be out. Ahahah. Everybody here will watch you and follow your every moves for this mission. So remain dignified, you represent all the Queens of our time”
When Linda Paul had talked about the Time Sewer Machine, Maurana had silently hoped it was a typo for Time Sewing Machine. But her hope faded away like a crying widow make-up when she saw where Sadie Merry had led them.
They sadly left the buzz and cheer ups to go through a small door in the backstage of the club. It opened in a dark courtyard. It was already night outside, and a breeze made the young Queens shiver. No light. There was a black hole in the middle of the yard and they could smell what was inside before they could see it.
“Phew”, said Consuela, “It’s worse than inside Maurice’s pants”. It didn’t help relax nor clear the atmosphere.They heard the noise of an engine starting and suddenly the lights went on. Maurana looked behind her back and saw Sadie Merry near an electricity board with blinking lights. Their was something shiny about her whole being. It looked like a protective extensible gloss suit fitting her sobre attire and her beehive wig perfectly. It didn’t seem to touch the clothes or the humongous wig, and yet it was moving graciously around.
Terry looked at the sewer. The content had begun to turn around and was soon turning fast enough to create a kind of vortex of garbage. “Where are our suits ..?” asked Terry with a hopeful smile, looking around. The older Queen’s gaze killed this hope in a squish.
“You have to shout your team slogan, girls”, Sadie said flatly.
“A slogan ?” asked the Musqueerteers. They looked at each others, and Consuela giggled.
“Wigs for all”, she tentatively offered.Sadie Merry rolled her eyes and pushed them in the sewer which was now glowing purple. She could hear the crowd inside the club chanting “Wigs for all! Wigs for all!” She jumped in the trashole, wishing she hadn’t eaten barbecue pork chops before coming.
In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
The verdict was definitive. The competition had been fierce and now only the best of the best would go to the final and mysterious mission.
Terry Bubble couldn’t believe her ears and fanned her glistening face with her powdered hands batting her eyelashes to contain the swelling tears when she heard Linda Paul say in her snarkily uppity voice : “Uhuh, that dress, oh that dress sweetie, that was an offense to good sense, but you did lipsynch to perfection with this pouty mouth of yours… Terry Bee, you stay with me.”
Then, turning to the other competitor, the gorgeous Tina Turnover look-alike in her glittery purple dress, a.k.a. Shantay Mûre. “Shantay, you go away.”Terry bowed to the jury, firstly Linda Paul herself, of course, then the sultry sulky Sadie Merrie, and finally took an extra second for Lady Gugu, who she was sure tipped the balance in her favor. She never was a big fan of the ageing star, well-known for her antics and poultry dresses, but there was no denying she earned being the sensation she was all over China —or that he was, there were lingering suspicions about this, which of course didn’t matter in the drag race.
It had to be thanks to her ; maybe she was fond of sardines. Otherwise, how could self-doubt-ridden Terry Bubbly, like her friends barely over their teens, could hope to compete with the other seasoned divas, like Pseu Flay with her lion-mane wig à la Cher, who were nonetheless one by one eliminated by a strange turn of events. The selection had gone flawlessly. Linda Paul was boucing with effervescence and delight.
“Dearies, dearies, you have been competing fearlessly against one another, now is time to be a team. Or find a time in which to be…”The three queens looked stymied. They were not used to share the limelight and shine in pairs, much less in a trio.
“Terry, Consuela, Maurana, you will be our three Muskqueerteers, fearlessly donning on wigs and shiny attires on a mission to retrieve a precious item for me.”The screen shined brightly to reveal a glittery pyramid, announced by the anchor’s male voice “The Queen’s Ferrets au Rochet!”
“But of course, I cannot send you back without a chaperon. Fear not, fate has decided for us, that among the jury, it will be…”
Terry hoped for Lady Gugu, she already looked like Elton Jaune in a wig, and would do great with Louis XIII, or Richeliou for that matter.
“… Sadie Merrie!”
“Oh good grief…” Terry’s shiny Elton Jaune in her thoughts suddenly was transphormed (as if they all had been into a huge deFørmiñG mirror) into that of Milady of Merry.
In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
cool synchs. There was another portion to the dream: After crossing the ocean the group arrived at a village. I wandered into a room … like a small hall or public room … and there were some people singing. They were singing christian songs, i think. In my dream i felt very accepting of them and appreciated their intention, but I wandered out thinking that it was not really my thing.
So a singing synch too.
In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
“The rugby game was also in the ocean.”
When Dove mentioned barnacles being like belief attachments (or something) Trove googled Barnacle Bill (the sailor), and listened to some rugby songs. She had recalled the rugby songs and how rude they were when she had overheard the bawdy conversation in the dressing room of The Twitz.In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
She Dreams
She dreams she is learning to fly. Over a green field with a band of trees to her left and a field of grazing cows to her right. Endless blue sky above. Nobody else in sight. She isn’t very high from the earth and she isn’t very fast. Her arms are outstretched for balance as she wobbles forward. It is exhilarating, but she is still glad there is no one but the cows to witness these first clumsy attempts.
She wakes and hugs her dream tightly. Going over the details so she will remember them later before she slips back into sleep.
Morning
It was 5:22am. Still over an hour before her antiquated alarm clock was due to go off; the clock was a relic she clung to more because she thought it looked cool on the shelf than for any practical reason. Sadie decided to get up anyway and use the extra time for meditating. She had a tough assignment ahead of her that day in Marseille and a bit of extra inner peace certainly wouldn’t go amiss.
Sadie worked as a private contractor for the HTB or Happiness Training Bureau. Their motto was Transit umbra, lux permeant. Roughly translated that meant Shadow passes, light remains. Nobody in the bureau knew who said it, although some sources attributed it to Ericis V Lemonista, the renowned scholar and educational reformer.
In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
“I’m stunning tonight, bitches! All eyes will be on me gorgeous silhouette, I bet you my fucking dick! No doubt I will be the chosen one.”
“Stop dreaming Maurana Banana, you silly bitch. They’ll just be wondering what’s that motherfucker meringue wig doing on that fat lipped purple head of yours.
And then they’ll see my outstanding new green lime dress and they’ll choose me ! That’s my turn tonight, bitch!”“Of course, bitch! They’ll think you’re a sardine and they’ll pick you for the barbecue. Behold, Terry Bubble, Queen of Sardinia!”, said Consuela Winny, the bearded lady in drags.
The green queen gaped speechless, and for a moment the image of a giant sardine popped into Maurana’s mind. She burst into laughter, quickly followed by Winny. It was an exaggerated laugh which bore young male tones. The three friends were participating into the most famous annual competition in Marseille. Linda Pol’s Drag Race would determine the best drags to be part of the Screaming Queens.
In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
“Finally the answer we need! Let’s release the damn bird and get back home now! Besides its cage needs cleaning and it’s starting to smell, and I can’t stand this place any longer…”
Funnily enough, she had wanted to post the daily random quote too because it seemed so significant, and in point of fact, it was awaiting in the comment box when she woke up. The previous night she had been about to post it, and then wondered if she’d posted enough already.
She recalled some dream snippets too, which was most uusual, and woke up almost smiling. There had been a big house and people, but the only clear recall was dropping an ecstasy pill on the floor, and it bounced this way and that and disappeared into another room, and everyone was looking for it everywhere. All of the dogs were bright cartoon colours and were all sitting patiently upright in a tree, a cartoon type tree.
She thought it quite amusingly significant that everyone was looking for the ecstacy, and just remembered that they did find a pill on the floor, a white one, but that wasn’t the pill they were looking for.
In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
Sandy Costa had been making a note of all the sightings throughout the year, as well as noting a variety of other apparently unrelated incidents and clues, and he kept them all in imaginary basket. (breaking news: draft saved at 11: 11 again). The Case of the Missing Surge Team and Possible Connection to the Flurge was known for short as the Basket Case.
Sandy was an unemployed channeler, although if you asked him to define himself in one sentence, that’s not what he would have said. He might not have known what to say, but he wouldn’t have said that. Not long after people had started growing their own food, producing their own energy, and writing their own books and magazines, everyone had started channeling their own mumbo jumbo, and Sandy was no longer in demand.
The Basket Case had been keeping him occupied and entertained, and the clues were starting to pour in like rain into an old boot.
Lisbon were expecting the arrival of some potentially interesting characters in the near future, from as far afield as Bangpie, and Caketown. There had been several cases of parallelitisis in Mari Fe’s village, a condition often associated with basket cases. There were whisperings through the sweet pea vines that there was something stirring in New Tartland, too.In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
flower synch! but her mind was dulled with tiredness and she could not explain, although they questioned her relentlessly.
“Just align with whatever path you are on… it is by far the easiest way” she whispered as she dropped off to sleep.
She woke to find herself on a path. It was dark and only the ground directly beneath her feet was visible. It was hard to move forward under these conditions and she desperately wanted to see more. She fought with the darkness until, eventually, she realised the darkness was an illusion. With that realisation she took hold of the darkness and it fell away in her hands revealing a stage.
The stage was bare, other than an old boot and a plain wooden chair. She sat on the chair and looked around.
“This is a bit gloomy” she said. “I want flowers”. And deep crimson wild sweet peas appeared. “I want lots of flowers! And I want blue sky and sunshine and a few fluffy white clouds and a gentle sun shower for me to dance in and a rainbow to fill the sky with wonder.” And as she wished, the bare stage was transformed to a landscape filled with a vibrant profusion of colour and life.
In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
“Stop fucking barking!”, she said, and not by any means for the first time. “I’m trying to read!”
And then she read:
“Animals not only enjoy the sounds that they make, they are to some extent enchanted by them. The animals’ interior world is silent. The sound of an animal’s hoof upon the ground fills it with a sense of power and affirmation. The cat’s meow is as enchanting to the cat as to its owner—meaningful sounds that communicate feeling. These are enjoyed by all such species.”
“Oh dear” she said to herself, momentarily nonplussed. “I seem to have turned an enchantment inside out. I could have been enjoying it all along.”“And who is “she”, the cat’s mother? The cats whiskers?” he asked. “The cat who got the cream?”
“We’re going to play cat and mouse for now” she replied, licking her lips. “The fact is, she doesn’t know ~ yet. Time will tell, or a teller will time it. Do you know what I found in the sewing box the other day? A 1914 coin from Guernsey, and then would you believe it, the #1914 transcript arrived in my mailbox. So I read it. I’d like to say the timing was perfect, but in this instance it seemed to be a few weeks late. There was something in it about whales, and visualizing a special place, and do you know what I thought of? That warm lagoon, do you remember? It was in the beginning of the story.”
In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
Abandoned structures where the wild things grow……not in rows and lines of forced behaviour for maximum controlled output wrapped in neatly positioned plastic, but shredded with tatters blowing in the breeze and sunlight streaming through the rips, saplings bursting through the tears, and brambles twined around the wired enclosures, spilling inside and outside. Jumbles of wild flowers, fresh and juicy amidst thorny dried stalks of last years endeavours, and the year before that, and so on.
In reply to: The Lost Loosid Threads—Behind the Scenes
Vacationers Casebook Notes: There was an understanding about standing room only, it was outstanding and that was no misunderstanding. The vacationers were making a stand, standing their ground, notwithstanding that everything had come to a standstill. Stand and be counted to withstand the stand up comedy, or there might be a stand off.
In reply to: The Lost Loosid Threads—Behind the Scenes
Recovering herself majestically, Tina put on her headphones and played her isotronic creativity tone in order to contribute (and the term “contribute” is used loosely) to the discussion (also used loosely) at hand.
Tina sat and waited for inspiration. It soon became clear that inspiration had taken a vacation. “Without even sending any casebook notes for perusal. Selfish Inspiration!” thought Tina petulantly.
Inspiration, telepathically picking up on the Tina’s thoughts, smiled knowingly to herself. Winter, to all intents and purposes, had already arrived, and yet the day was still and rather warm. Picking a particularly vibrant yellow daisy she noticed growing wild among the stones on the side of the path she skipped her way back to the hotel for breakfast.
In reply to: The Lost Loosid Threads—Behind the Scenes
Vacationers Casebook Notes: (periodically we will present overheard snipshots from travellers for your perusal and edification)
“straaange – last week in a hamlet the middle of nowhere I got a lift to exactly where I wanted to go at the time I wanted to go from some new friends I met – the same thing has ‘‘just happened’‘ today with the same peeps!
– came back to my little hidey hole in the Pyrenees and someone just walked up to me and said ‘I hear your going to Corsica on Friday – do you want a lift’‘ mental”In reply to: The Lost Loosid Threads—Behind the Scenes
The previous evening, Dory had been contemplating the willy nilly mob rule aspects of collective weather situations. Summer, to all intents and purposes, had already arrived, and yet the day was blustery and rather cool, and Dory wondered why she hadn’t been consulted by the neighbours and asked to vote on the days weather. A shadowy thought crossed her mind that perhaps she had forgotten to turn up at the neighbourhood consensus weather station to cast her vote. Then she forgot about the whole topic of the weather, and when she strolled outside later, much to her delight, the sky was a marvellously creative watercolour of white plumes and bubbles on a baby blue background. Back inside shortly afterwards, she received a message about the weather conditions in Sussex, something about the Gulf Streaming crashing and having to be rebooted. Well, she thought to herself, if the people in Sussex don’t turn up to vote at their local weather consensus station, they have only themselves to blame! This is a true story, Dory said, to nobody in particular, and to whoever was listening.
In reply to: The Lost Loosid Threads—Behind the Scenes
Dory was on her way to an local greening event, a sort of garden show and time manipulation in one, where contestants took turns demonstrating their skills in rapid~greening. A hideous concrete relic on the coast had been earmarked, and contestants from all over the world were to take turns covering the monstrosity in flowering greenery in the shortest amount of time possible. The events were usually held on a weekend, because everyone was busy vacationing during the week, so use of time manipulation was permitted, as long as it wasn’t too over the top, in other words, weeks and months were permissable, but not years. Except in special cases, such as in the cases where the contestants refused to follow the rules, which it must be admitted, was unsurprisingly often. Prizes were awarded to everyone who participated, really, there were 3D print your own prize stations scattered around the perimeter of the monstrosity site.
The half finished abandoned hospital that Dory had participated in the previous month had turned out spectacular, especially the mystical combination of tele ~imported prehistoric tree ferns, cherry trees and solar powered fireflies. The addition of ice cream and cupcake printers in the corridors had been the icing on the cake. Indeed the icing in what used to be the mortuary was rather pretty, especially when one hadn’t seen snow for decades, a cool crisp tundra scene with icicles and blue shadows on the snow covered slabs, with clumps of red spotted mushrooms for a splash of colour, not that the extra colour was needed as the very air was a swirling mass of colours.In reply to: The Lost Loosid Threads—Behind the Scenes
I am going to write with my left hand said tina joyously but you can’t said becky, not when you are typing. yes i can said tina all i have to do is imagine i am writing with my left hand and that is all i need to do and fairies and dandelions will take care of the rest of the garbage that comes out of my mouth as i breathe in light and then i breathe out grey plonkety plonkey plonk. you have to be brave and not worry about the garbage collectors who will frown at you for spewing out all the nasty words that come out when the light needs to find more room. but i am brave, as a general rule. i think.
In reply to: The Lost Loosid Threads—Behind the Scenes
In reply to: The Lost Loosid Threads—Behind the Scenes
