macblaze.ca

3:24

Meredith stared down at her wet beaver and shook her head ruefully. He had apparently taken it into his head to make the trek across the wet muddy yard and visit the kitchen. And while a beaver may be water repellent, that doesn’t mean beavers won’t make a mess of whatever spot they choose to shed the water they are busy repelling.

And that spot was the middle of her kitchen floor.

And so there he sat, staring up at her with a less-than-angelic expression and whiskers a-tremble, dripping water and thick grey sludge onto her linoleum as if he were the most important creature in the world. And, Meredith mused, for all she knew, he might very well be. It’s not as if she had ever been able to figure out what he was doing here or why he wasn’t like all the other beavers. In fact, now that she thought about it, she never had put much effort in to exploring the mystery of the magically appearing roommate rodent. She had just added him into her life like a comfortable old friend come visiting and started looking to the tomorrows.

Why, she hadn’t had any nightmares or stressed about pasts gone wrong or thought of that Barney in weeks, and she had all these new projects on the go and life was … well, life was just fine these days, wasn’t it. All in all this little mess-maker had brought nothing but positive energy with him; gone was the gloom of winter and cold stabbing knives of fear and worry.

“Huh,” she said to the beaver’s upturned face, “I guess we make a good team.”

“So, what do you want to do today, this gloom, rainy weird day?” she asked the beaver as she turned toward the cupboard and grabbed a couple of tea towels. “I suppose we could run errands. I really do need to pick some runners or a floor mat or two if you are going to be in the kitchen. Your claws aren’t doing my lino any good, and you can’t be getting too much traction on the hardwood in the living room.”

After giving him a brisk toweling she tossed the now dirty towels in to the basket by the laundry-room door and walked into the big pantry to grab the sponge mop.

“What do you think of a trip into town? You haven’t seen it yet and you can wait in the truck while I do a few things.”

The beaver walked over to the warm oven, stretched out at its base and smiled up at her before closing his eyes contentedly.

“Well, I guess you are entitled to a nap first,” Meredith laughed. “ How about I just finish with this load of laundry and then we can be off.”

3:23

An early design, oh so many years ago. Never realized, but soon…

3:22

As he stared at the dials and gauges, he took a moment to wonder why he did this job. It was ironic, at least to him, that the operator was generally more exalted a person even though the operator had no idea what the machine did or how it worked.

Years of study and many more years of practice had brought him to a place where he was beneath notice yet still crucial to the smooth functioning of the entire system. But did anyone know his name? Did anyone praise his expertise and admire his role? Did anyone even know what he contributed to all this?

No.

It was the clothes, he had decided long ago. Without the trappings, the worth was negligible. Without the velvet robes, brocade or embroidered overcoats, how could anyone be expected to take him seriously? Without the fine leather shoes, handmade hat or jewel-encrusted belt, why should anyone even notice him, machine or no machine?

Why indeed. Thus it had been his passion for the last few years to invest everything in the art of clothing. His portfolio had grown slowly, in sporadic leaps as he hesitantly learned the mode of couture. And soon it would be time. Soon they would see the man and not the machine. Soon he would stand as a member of the society and not cower beneath it as its slave. Soon his designs would break him free of the machinery.

3:21

It was raining outside. Not heavy rain, but dense, like a fog of water that hung in the air and soaked anyone unfortunate enough to be out in it. This wasn’t common here in the heart of the Palliser Triangle. Indeed, hot and dry was the norm, with the occasional torrential rainfall that covered the hard, cracked prairie in a giant shallow pool and then quickly ran into gullies, ditches and coulees creating ephemeral raging rivers that carried away the sandy soil and then disappeared as quickly as they had arisen.

But this moist, thick air was an anomaly. The water hung in the air, coated the grass, slowly slid off the machinery and seeped into every crack, crevice and opening. As Meredith gazed into the yard she realized with a laugh she had never seen anything as pathetic as the red-tailed hawk that sat miserable and sodden on the wooden pole out by the fuel shack. She sympathized with it; there was no point hunting or working because nothing else was foolish enough to be out in this weather and there was really no place else to go. So the two of them sat, shivering in the unseasonably chilly air, and waited for it all to end.

3:20

The beaver thought it ironic that he found himself in the middle of nowhere southern Alberta when most of what he needed to accomplish was hundreds of miles away. “But,” he mused to himself, “every story has a beginning and every adventure a place. I just need to be in the right place and all will unfold as it should.”

As the beaver stepped slowly down off the the saddle and tucked the ragged Hilroy under the tangle of tack he had made in the corner, he wondered what odd configuration of stars and fate had brought Barney here in the first place. Was it in fact a random occurrence or had some larger plot been at work? This was the crux of the matter and something that needed to be solved before the events could be resolved.

Well, it was worth a look at the temple. The answers were just as likely to lie there as anywhere in this milieu. The only issue was how to arrange the visit. Meredith wasn’t in the habit of taking her beaver to town, and the temple had new tenants who might look askance at the ’local’ fauna wandering through their space. First things first: a lift into town and then a reconnaissance of the place.

3:19

I think I remember something about a temple, the beaver thought. Early on, yes, here …

 

Wednesday, May the twenty-ninth, nineteen hundred and eighty-five

Well, the peasants are revolting. And they fucking smell too.

Small fucking dick-ass towns, full of snoopy morons and prying parasites, too many of them to deal with properly and not enough to make a pie. As if I’d put anything so putrid in my mouth anyway.

Well, it looks like their so-called social network is going to make this harder, sticking their fat noses in my business. I need to move a few things out of sight and there’s not enough room in my car, and I’m sure as hell not putting it the squalid square Merry has allocated me in her dump. She probably goes up and rolls in my sheets just to get a whiff of a real man. I hate women: always fucking up a good situation with their self-absorbed emotional overloads.

Only one thing makes this easy. Mayor Fuckhead has given me the keys to this concrete monstrosity he calls The Temple. Right beside the hotel and completely empty. He wants me to checking over and see what we can do to make it an ’attraction’. A fucking attraction, for Christ sake, as if anyone besides these local yokels would have any interest in the world’s ugliest building. Come to think of it, there’s an angle there. Maybe I can sell this Brooklyn Bridge to some sucker after I blow this town.

Crap, that noisome bitch of a waitress is determined to ruin my meal. I must be off.

Ordo ab chao,
Barnabas

3:18

Notice of Rejection

This is a official notification of rejection of claim regarding file #4325-23.

After proper consideration and review, it has been determined by appropriate authorities that no merit exist to move this case forward. All restrictions and covenants will be heretofore removed.

We hope this decision will be deemed as satisfactory by all parties, and invited interested claimants to address any concerns through the appropriate channels.

Thank you.

 

3:17

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Rhyme Time

Blue Glue
Red Spread
Rummy Tummy
Rainspout Checkout

Line Time
Now is the winter of my discontent, made glorious summer by this son of York.

I am a millionaire. That is my religion.

Peoples is peoples.

Wine Time
Cabernet
Pinot grigio
Riesling
Malbec

Mine Time
Claymore
Gold
Salt
Kampf

Shine Time
Pledge
Sun
Moon

Time out
…

3:16
This message is brought to you as a public service. We accept no responsibility for any consequences deriving from the contents of this message, and hold ourselves entirely free of liability.

***

As a result of the filing of a letter of impediment, the narrative is hereby halted indefinitely. There shall be no further additions or deletions, and all activity related to the narrative must cease and desist immediately.

This includes, but is not limited to, writing, rewriting, illustrating, composition of any kind, editing, proofing and/or publishing of images, illustration or any intellectual property of any kind.

Failure to comply with this directive will be grounds for the filing of Forms 45-212a and 65-324c immediately, and a commencement of proceedings under Article IV, Section 2, Subsection (a) through (g).

There shall be no further warning.

 

3:15
Now look here. What’s with all this exposition? Where is the plot? Where are the characters? Why have we moved off script? This isn’t to be tolerated. We have a plan and an agenda, do we not?

I must say this must be because of the season. The changing weather always affects sensitive machinery, and the mind is a most sensitive machine. But it is no excuse: there are safeguards and procedures in place to prevent shenanigans and deviations, and it is my duty to put a halt to this, is it not?

But first the proper protocol. I shall check the relevant passages and consult the addenda. Once that is complete I shall gather the proper supporting materials and subpeona the requisite witnesses. Presently the calendar will be consulted, a consultation scheduled and finally a hearing date will be set. There shall be no call to question any decisions that come from this office, no, there shall not.

So. Shall we just place the narrative on hiatus while I initiate the the proceedings? Yes, yes, I think we shall.

So yes, I will just file this and…