passage

“So you see, Chloe. It’s all about the interior to that game. This game within a game you are on about. The Basin. We must get beyond Dead Lake — both of them — and enter the place of the burning dog.”

“I don’t like that idea,” returned a worried, slumped over, hand crossed Chloe. “I just want to stay in the trailer park, shoot up some people, and then *leave*. I don’t want to find this door into a hidden place. Just leave me out of it.”

Sandy breathes out. “Okay, okay. I’ll try the other Chloe, then.”

“It won’t be any different.”

“It might.”

—–

“Soo Chloe. Whadda you knoow?”

“Get away. Playing on phone.”

“Just a couple…”

“GO AWAY, JEEZ.”

—–

“I suppose I owe you an apology.”

“Just leave me in the trailer park,” she reinforced.

—–

So he returned to EM at the blue painted coffee shop of Fishers Island, mission seemingly a failure. But EM thought otherwise.

“You got them thinking! They’ll come around. A seed has been *planted*.”

—–

The next time Chloe Price approached the end of the pavement representing the limit of the Gunn Mobile Trailer Park game…

… she suddenly recalled that thing about a glitch which allowed one to go further down this road — into the dirt part — all the way to a place called Dead Man’s Lake. No: just Dead Lake. Dead Sea, something. But it had to be done a certain way. Today, unlike yesterday or the day before or the day before that, etc., she decided it might be worth the risk. Checking back into the heart of the trailer park to make sure none of her enemies were following her (or were left alive, period)…

… she walks over and shoots her oh-so-familiar weapon at what looks like a weirdly shaped grey rock in front of her (the “glitch”). Not once, not twice, but three times.

She then sticks her gun into a suddenly opening black vortex, never to be held or used again.

The dirt road opens up before her. “Dead Sea — whatever — here we come!”

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Filed under *Second Life, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island

dark side

Amazing. He’d found it.

Kevin thinks the following: This structure where I grew up as a child reminds me of the cool compassion of my father compared to the fierce competition with my mother. On the one hand, I was asked about renewing my rent not once but several times before snatching a legally deeded property away from under my feet. On the other hand: destruction/removal of a piece of art representing *all* my art without warning. I could go with the kindness and empathy of the former. But my fiery rage identifies more with the latter. I will burn this structure *down to the ground*. It will not exist just like my childhood art doesn’t any longer. Monkey City *this* dear mother.

Sorry father.

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Filed under *Second Life, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island, Wallytown/Fishers Island

smokers

After his 5 beers, he sauntered over to Hellmouth Service Station next door and sprawled out on an old red car seat in front, staring blankly across the road.

The owner Fred Heater (brother-in-law to Ted) came out, followed his stare. “That’s Jonesboro Heights over there. Not much to look at, I know, but still it’s the highest point on the island.” He took a ganger at Kevin, quickly determined he was a biker — but those burning feet! I’ve got to get this guy out of here before he ignites something! “You can actually rezz your bike or whatever over there on that property. Not running you off or anything…”

“Sure you are,” said Kevin icily. “You think I’m a menace to society.” He stared at the owner, fire also in his eyes. “Just like my parents.”

Great, thought Fred. A burny guy with *parent issues*. Just what this island needs. “No, no, you just sit here. Stay calm. Leave when you want to.” Fred looked through the dingy window of his station to make sure the fire extinguisher was hanging in its proper spot — just like Ted before him. Hope the nozzle remains unblocked and the pin isn’t broken, he thought, relieved at its sight. But he dare not check right this minute. Gotta keep an eye on this dude!

“No, no, you stay right here,” he reinforced, hands out. “Don’t get any more excited than you are. Just *relax*.” Fred pondered how to safely get to the phone inside to call Luther. Luther would know what to do. He’d seen this stuff before. The Great Fires of ’72.

He stared down at Kevin’s feet again. And I thought the General inside was bad with the smoking!

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Filed under *Second Life, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island

reversion

It was this sight of a “burning dog” (actually a dog fronting a camp fire from his perspective) a little over a sim inside Fishers Island which changed him back, as it should be.

Burning Man became just a Man again. Kevin.

But his feet remained ignited.

He wandered up to the bar located in a neighboring parcel and ordered a beer, extra hops. He showed the tough looking bartender Cyclops Ted his hot foot to indicate he too meant business.

“‘Take me drunk I’m home.’ Haven’t heard that one before.”

“Um huh.” Ted was wondering how comfortably long he could wait before calling his wife Ethel about this one. Long time since he’s seen one of those burny people pass through these here parts. Last dude took out a whole palace!

He glanced over to make sure the fire extinguisher was still hanging on the wall in the corner.

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Filed under *Second Life, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island

eastward bridge

“So here we are on the hands again, EM. Waiting for someone to cross that bridge.”

“Could be a man with a million dollars, could be some dude with a gun.” He paused. “Both… neither.”

“But probably neither,” opined Sandy Beech, anxious to get this scene over since Chloe Price was waiting for him over at Bay City. Both of them!

Sandy then heard something, a rumbling, getting louder. EM pointed. “Look Sandy, a hog. Bikers again. Spocari Nemoy is going to be *soo* upset.”

Sandy looked as well, but all he could see crossing the bridge was a man not on a motorcycle as he expected, but just an ordinary bicycle. Burning — the actual source of the noise. A Burning Man.

“Wait Sandy!” EM reassessed over the growing roar. The burning man had just come upon the center of the bridge. “Not a hog, a *dog*!”

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Filed under *Second Life, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island

the difference between Jaspers and Adgatetown remains opaque

“You know she left town more because of me,” spoke Linda Halsey earnestly to new beau David Newton Jaspers. They were standing on the East Bridge of Adgatetown, the only place they’d ever known or ever would know. Narrow perspective. “I hate to put you down, put you in your place.”

“Wanna listen to some more Chalcedony tonight? I downloaded it from a pirate site. It’s before Dyslexia Cornfield the drummer left. Good stuff.” He pauses, considering. “What were you saying?”

“Never mind.” She takes his arm and dreams about blue tomorrows.

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Filed under *Second Life, Corsica

Red? ¡Ay, caramba!

Funny how I’ve been banned for 30 minutes from that central property, just for sitting at that table and attempting to grab an orange. Better send replacement Snoupy in for a shot instead. Must – get – oranges!

He checks his watch. *Or*, I could just wait the now 19 minutes remaining and explore some of the rest of this Adgatetown. David Jaspers, Linda Halsey — wonder if they’re still here. And of course Lisa V., the real reason for the visit. Bartholomew. I know where he is. I know where all the Smipsons are: Homer, Marg, Grandpaw, Magee, even the aunts Selma and Louise. I know who shot Mr. J. R. Burns. And I know why Lisa can’t find any of them. She has evolved.

Two kids playing on a jungle gym linked together with red, blue, yellow pentagons. Wait: there’s green there too. Sometimes that is forgotten in the mix of primary colors.

Maybe like Lisa and Bartholomew when they were children. Innocent days of youth. Before the Big Change. One made it through the waterfall, the other didn’t. Lisa casts a shadow and evil is born. Projected onto the boy.

They are acting out a play: The boy dreams of life on an elephant, but can’t make it there himself. For the girl: smooth sailing.

What game are they playing now? The one where blue wins and red loses? That happens all the time.

What about yellow on the edge? Oh, there’s the father or guardian showing up. Perhaps come to gather them up and take them home to a nice, delicious warm meal prepared by the significant other while he was out hard at work selling encyclopedias or something. Nice suit.

But when Marion Harding also stopped at the edge of the circle, only one child was still within. The dancing one. The one who cast the shadow.

Oops. Past time to take a pic with those oranges!

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Filed under *Second Life, Corsica