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September 21, 2017 · 3:03 pm

Terry

Improvio’s siblings Chroma and Earie knew they were being betrayed, and summoned a Fire Ickle to aid them.

He promptly began working at Rocky’s bar after former bartender Bean went missing under mysterious circumstances.

Handsome devil, thinks Rocky. Olde Lapara Towne better lock up all their women for this one.

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cat and dogged

“Good tomato juice,” says the blue clad Improvio, swigging it down.

“Coffee’s nice as well,” speaks Inertia in turn. “We’ll have to keep this place in mind. They have food too.”

“Met some people, auntie, while I was waiting for you. A couple. One of them said they lived around here. The other said she might move here. Can’t remember their names.”

“Don’t talk to strangers,” the pale woman warned. “The band’s the thing. I see you have the ring on.”

He exposed it more. “Yes, I love it. Thank you so much. Now I have the Spirit of Punk at my disposal. There’ll be no stopping me.” He gulped. “Us, I mean.”

Inertia smiled. “You were always my favorite, Improvio. Ruthless and dogged like me; that’s why I decided to give the ring to you and not Chroma or Earie. You will lead us to the promised land. Have you spoken to Rocky Racco yet? You must sway him to our side. That is a primary goal.”

“Primary color goal,” he added playfully.

“Yes,” she said, looking him over. “Red and yellow might as well be dead and stashed away in that tall grass beneath the train ramp.” Inertia then scowled toward the shop window. Both knew the cat listening in on their conversation would also have to be killed and put within same.

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stay

Teebestia tries to understand. She had followed Paul up to this sim line but didn’t cross when he changed from white to black. Then she didn’t follow him again across the same line with he entered Malone Central through Owls Head. She *is* scared. Something deep down keeps her from doing so. And now Hoss has had a vision! Omikron City… black lady, he said. Teebestia suspects David Bowie’s wife but then tries to remember if she had ever *been* this wife back there. Hmmm. “Something doesn’t add up,” she says aloud.

Teebestia huffs and turns toward Clownski’s. I can’t wait to hear those kids play this weekend, she thinks. My former paper boys!

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stay green

Having filled his backpack with more food and supplies from Rocky’s market, Paul was about to enter the underground again when he saw the enlarged hole to the right. No longer a circle but an ellipse.

Then a train ran over him but he was use to that.

Scott Walker (giant sloth) was no longer where he use to be just beyond, causing havoc in Olde Lapara Towne. Had he moved elsewhere?

He better get back home to Malone Central before he loses his bearings in the labyrinthine streets and alleyways.

But he can’t resist summoning the green ickle from the depths first.

Such fun — but it didn’t knock him out of the red circle per usual.

Sim line. And to his right again: underground. The correct way home.

Mary warned of war. Lamb will not and cannot die with Ram, she said. She had traced the slaughter back to Inertia through The Grapevine. Her three poor possessed nephews were preparing to perform in Clownski’s this coming weekend. Punk, pure and raw. At least the sheriff (their brother) broke free of its deadening influence. Thud thud thud thud. Paul winces at the thought and enters the dark waters again. 10 seconds later he was run over by another train.


Paperboy.

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pass the vegetables

Also the next day, a fully returned Mary made an announcement to the citizens of Lapara’s Malone Central gathered around the boob tube. “From now on,” she declared, “my name is Mary Tyler and our group will no longer be called Peter, Paul and Mary but Lamb. No argument.”

Everyone nodded their heads, just glad that Mary had put down her fishing rod and joined the living once more.

The great sim battle begins.

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succulent

Upon returning from her trip to Omikron City, Inertia immediately got rid of the bleating rams which had wandered into the yard from parts unknown. “We’ll not start that cycle of life and death over again,” she proclaimed while knitting a coffin purse on the front porch and enjoying the peace and quiet of nighttime Astarte.

The next day the local butcher shop started a special on mutton.

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