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Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


Mike: cowering in a corner, buttocks in glass fragments, hiding, as it were, from Pike, Okra and the Sam Clone. As a subtextual matter, do we not spend so much of our lives hiding? Or do we stand in the middle of the hailstorm and get pelted, as if we were scarecrows?

In the corner: the web troll. In the street: The Troll Beneath The Bridge Of Lies. You might say, "never the twain", but no, this is a story, and it can indeed happen. If Lokken can be dealt life-threatening misfortune in some internet story, then Mike can put his butt in the corner, if for no other reason, to satisfy some kind of sense of higher justice.

Meanwhile, in polite society, no recourse for my own nonsense. "With only the sickly glow from the light of his computer", as it were.

Mike, then, hiding in the corner, and he could hear snatches of the conversation, such as Sam saying "SHEEEEE-IT!", as response to something our pair was saying, Pike and Okra.

Something landed on him. A drop of sweat. Mike groaned, not wanting to look up at the ceiling, but, after a minute procrastinating, he did.

He was quite surprised to see Black Widder adhering to the ceiling, katana blade in hand. Her burning eyes were staring at him, as if knowing exactly what he was up to, and perhaps even daring him to so much as flinch.

"Moossad" was one of the words Mike could make out from outside. He groaned again, thinking those guys would nuke the whole island from high up in the atmosphere, with none being the wiser, without fear of snide comments and accusations from rogue nations. There were issues there, like they had all got drunk one weekend and voted in Ceria to the Seckurity Counsel.

With great haste, Mike moved his clumsy feet in the opposite direction of the human targets in the street, he with only the hope that he could get to a minimum safe distance before he felt the Katana in his hindquarters.

(Authors note: Black Widder knows how it is, too. Yes her do.)

Hallway. Stupid feet. Mike absconding.

Door opens:

THE REZIDENT EVEAL FAN CLUB!

Human litter, around a room, and in the place of honor: a calf with a ribbon tied around its neck.

One from the crowd: "I KNOW THAT EM EFFER! DOGPILE THE HATER, EVERYBODY!"

---
Good afternoon, gentleman. All your William Faulkner are belong to us. Make your time.
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Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


TITANS SO FAR(A LIST):

Christina Lokken
Black Widder
Richard Liberty

REPTILES FROM THE FAR REACHES:

W
yenehC kciD

POSSIBLE TITANS:

Ben Dead(but he's on the good, Nazi-murdering side)
Meala Jobowitch(alliance unknown, but advice is that when if thrown into water, she doesn't drown, then probably means she's a witch)
The Sam Clones(they sure get around)

---
"When the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?"
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Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


Karl Malden was drilling a hole in the wall, so he could peep at Carrol Baker(his young wife) sleeping in her daybed, but as he did this, she sneaked up behind him and caught him at his work.

"WHAT IS THIS?" she screamed at the startled buffoon.

"You're my wife!" said Karl Malden. "I got a right, according to any court in the great state of Mississippi."

"Any person is owed there due privacy" said Carroll Baker.

"You saying I can't even look?" he cried. "We ain't even made potato salad together yet. And you just turnt old enough."

"And you ain't owed that there, either!" said Carroll Baker. "I got my pride, my rightful image of self that I build up and serve."

"And me sitting there all the while, during your prideful observances, me clawing the hades out of my Lazy Karl chair" said Karl Malden.

She went in to the hallway, saying: "I think I'll take work in town as a stenographer", and as she slammed her bedroom door, "away from you!"

"Only possible distinction is the upside that I will get a cool breeze in here from leaving yonder door open during the day!" yelled Karl Malden.

Muffled, Carroll Baker, from inside: "And you have the nerve to think we will ever make potato salad together!"

The door opened, she re-appearing, out of her pajamas, and now in a dress with a smart hat and matching purse.

"I COULD NEVER MAKE POTATO SALAD WITH A MONSTER LIKE YOU!" she yelled, and disappeared down the stairwell, to the lower floor of the old house.

---
"When the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?"
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Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


"Good morning, Carroll Baker!" said the man.

"Mistah Barquero!" said the lady. "Whatever are you doing here today?"

"Seeing as yo' husben torched ma cotton gin" he said, "I brought all my cotton to him, so he can run it through. I did this just to mess with his head."

"Whale!" said Carroll Baker. "Would you like a cool glass of lemonade? AUNT ROSE COMFORT! GET US TWO GLASSES OF LEMONADE!"(this last she screamed toward the house).

"That's your Uncle Comfort in the wheelbarrow, there," said Barquero. "Is that correct?"

"Don't put me in this" said Uncle Comfort. "Ah'm retired for a long time now."

"Say," said Barquero. "How about Potato Salad. Ah'm told yall have some fine old good Potato Salad."

"I'm afraid that's a bald face mistruth you done been told by somebody" said Carroll Baker. "We have some greens and streaking meat to heat up for lunch. Aunt Rose Comfort does that."

"The other must have been some of the downhome hyperbole, what the townfolk like to broadcast" said Barquero.

"Mistruths, and nothing more" said Carroll Baker. "I expect Karl Malden been fantasizing about the Potato Salad between us, going around town talking it out to himself, but out loud. He's not a terribly bright man, you see?"

"I see" said Barquero, getting uncomfortably close. "You make him use his hand, then?"

"I ain't involved in it" said Carroll Baker, "nary one jot. He probably sit in here by himself churning the stuff while the dog watches, with the same stupid look on they face, master and pet, mystified by their own doings, like."

"I'm glad I'm punishing him by forcing him to earn money" said Barquero. "He sounds like an inferior breed of husben for a fine woman like you."

"I toll him just this morning" said Carroll Baker, "that he is a monster, and, furthermore, I would never make Potato Salad with such a man! Could never! I got my dignity!"

"Hmmm" said Barquero, seeming to kind of wink to himself, behind the back of his lady companion.

"It's not a moral thing, like" continued Carroll Baker. "Its toiletry and common sense, on having prospects and all, and just like being able to get along to have a decent time together. Maybe then, not a moral thing at all."

"Well" said Barquero. "You say the dog watches him. You reckon the dog has learned anything?"

"Like maybe picked up some of Karl Malden's bad tricks?" said Carroll Baker. "You don't know much about dogs, do you? You poor man! A dog can curl up and do things a man can't! With his own tongue, at that!"

"Sounds like the world is his oyster, then" said Barquero.

"If a dog could talk" said Carroll Baker, "he probably wouldn't waste much breath complaining."

"Guess old Karl been busy at his own devices in the interim" said Barquero. "And he best have ginned my cotton while we were talking here, me and the little miss."

"You shore can't teach an old Karl new tricks" giggled Carroll Baker. A blush rose on her cheeks, as Aunt Rose Comfort came out the house door with an antique wooden serving tray with two glasses on it.

---
"When the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?"
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Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


THE LIVING HATE THE DEAD!

"You have an emotive quality, Miguel" said Rousseau, looking through a lens at the performer. "I think you will be good in this movie, getting surround by zombies."

"Como es una pelicula?" said Miguel. "Or should I say, what kind of movie? Would I fight snakes with a machete in the island foliage or maybe play something of a suave nightclub singer?"

"TWO suave night club singers" added Alvarex.

"No, no" said Rousseau. "The film is being shot without a working script. I call it 'The Living Hate The Dead'. Its kind of an 'up yours' to other zombie movies."

"I seen some Nazis milling about earlier" said Alvarex. "We could do like a Casablanca scene, with my comrade and I doing horn work, then on break, making hay with the leading lady."

"Wow" said Rousseau. "Think of the atmosphere in a Nazi night club. You two playing jazz lines. Nazi's schmoozing. It could be great, like a comment on the Cantina Scene from A New Hope."

"Who is the star?" said Miguel. "I mean, aren't all the celebrities dead or in hiding. After all, this is the zombie apocalypse."

"I have Christina Lokken" said Rousseau. "We have some action footage taken on the mainland. Really great stuff. Lokken got injured in the scene, actually. I'll work that into the story, somehow. Massage the script."

"Are there any zombies on the Sorto?" said Alvarex.

"A few, kept in isolation" said Rousseau. "You walk around the island here, you would think it was 1946 and the Fatherland had just won the big war, and there is no zombie apocalypse, anywhere."

"Wow!" said Miguel.

"Sounds like a dream, senor" said Alvarex.

"Its a false reality" said Miguel. "A movie in a movie, like nothing is going on in the world. Suspension of disbelief, and all that."

"Exactly" said Rousseau. "You say that like its a bad thing, but really these movies are all just little two hour escapes from reality. Before and after the apocalypse. One could sit down all his troubles for a short time, grab some snack bar fodder, and totally have a dream unfold right before his eyes on the screen."

"This island is a false reality" said Alvarex. "Its not aware of anything else going on. In case you haven't heard, all the stores are closed on the mainland."

"My friend" said Rousseau. "I have reels of Christina falling off a truck into a horde of zombies. We played hell getting her out before they totally destroyed her. I came from the mainland; I saw it all, so don't tell me, like I'm some disingenuous svengali spinning lies. In fact boys, to go a step further, this is actually a blockbuster action movie filmed like a reality show or a documentary. All we have to do is stand there while it happens, with cameras rolling. If only George were around. But truth be told, you never know. He might have risen and roam yet around Pittsburgh, as we speak."

---
"When the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?"
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Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


"You know what?"

"We about to hand it to you, old Mike" says one of the Rezident Eveal groupies in the front of the pack. "That's 'what'."

"Aw naw" said Mike. "I think I'm gonna whoop hell out of all yall. All yall: at the same time."

"Won't even grovel a bit?" said the lead groupie. "Just for fun?"

(At this point, the groupie eyes all get comically huge. Mike has no way of knowing Black Widder has just sneaked in behind him, and the sight of her is freaking-out the groupies.)

"You know something, though" said Mike. "Apocalypse had some good scenes, though."

"Yeah" said the leader. "Yeah!" Unsure. "Maybe you could join our group, because as it turns out, under all the machismo and bacon grease, you actually like the RE movies."

"Now that's just putting silly words in my mouth" said Mike. "Try this, instead: don't make me pummel you."

"You have to show respect to Milla, at least" said the leader. "Right? Femme fatale? Movies well ahead of their time."

"That don't quite figure in, how I see it" said Mike. "Yall slowed down so much of the action scenes, and she's using a gun to do all her fist-work. Naw, that ain't the novelty of the work at all, her being a woman. Hell, women is commonplace; even almost as common as men. And she's a mysterious prodigy, like in the Matrix, and in at least one of those movies, the Keanu character may have been based on a real-life woman, in the subtext."

Black Widder studied at Mike, something in her glance, something inscrutable, but studious.

"Can't you see?" said one of the group, in a pretty ponytail. "He's so crazy. He could kill us all, just because we saw his face!"

"We're gonna cool this situation out" said the leader. "We're gonna back away, slowly, leave, and let all this slide for now. We'll simply try to forget all the nasty you've said, but be forewarned, we better not see you around here again-"

"-alone."

And this last bit, Mike turned around and saw the Black Widder, still glaring at him, like an angry statue.

"For Milla!" they screamed, from the rooms beyond, the RE fanclub.

---
"Your ways are so very different from my own." "I will show you the ways of a monster."
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Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


Uwe played putt-putt. He had putted into the mouth of a giant clown head, but he now he was having difficulty getting the ball out. Twice now, he had scrambled through the azaleas around the head, trying to find another way in, to retrieve his ball.

Mind,the miniature golf facility was from the days when Pike and Okra were building an amusement park on Sorto, but now, with the Nazis, and the zombies, and the spector of the Titans, all the work had stopped and all that was left was piles of orange sand here and there with several odd feature, like a mobile bathroom here and there. In the distance were two metallic pylons which would have been the retaining armature for a ferris wheel that was never completed.

Uwe looked up at the big clown head, at the eyes. "Maybe I could use my putter to knock an eye out and make my way in that way?" said Uwe.

To himself.

No sooner had Uwe began to thwack his putter against one of the clown's plastic eyes, along came Mike running by.

Mike slowed, then stopped.

"Oh no!" said Mike, incredulous.

Uwe turned and said, "Guten tag! You are an American, no?"

"I will answer none of your Nazi questions!" yelled Mike. "I know who you are, well enough."

Uwe was befuddled, but before he could say anything, here comes the Black Widder, heading right for Mike. When Uwe saw her, his jaw really dropped.

One would think this was literally the first time Dr Rock Your Face had ever seen, in person, one of The House Of Ideas' Revengers.

"Its a Fulci uber-zombie!" yelled Uwe, as Mike began to flee, then Uwe pitched himself into the right eye of the giant plastic clown head.

Mike headed to one of the portable restrooms, and when there, fought with the plastic latch on the door. He was in too much of a rush to look back, but he worked as if Black Widder were right on his heels. Finally the door came open and he slung it wide.

Inside, he dove head first into the commode, through the seat/top. Quickly, he tried to settle in, inside the waste tank, curl-up sort of like a baby in its mother's womb.

Then, at the door, DEATH!

The Black Widder stood, imposing, implacable, katana in hand.

She looked down at the latrine floor, and there was one of Mike's shoes, lying on its side.

She smiled and walked away.

---
"Your ways are so very different from my own." "I will show you the ways of a monster."
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