not far enough

“So tell me about this chicken outside, The Mann. I thought this place was the North already. Why the big, Southern mascot, then?”

“Do you like this song? The *black* Elvis, not the white one. Listen to that smooth, jazz-cat voice, eh?”

“Now, now. You’re switching subjects on me again, white man. But — then again, I guess if you’re playing the black Elvis on the jukebox then this has to be the North.”

“Well,” and The Mann turned around to look at the chicken here, “we have interlopers here still. *Close* to the South here. But when you reached this truck stop you could feel safe and breath freely once more. Just a sim down on Route 8: a different story potentially. No trust there yet.”

“Where did you get your car?” I asked, looking outside myself but in a different direction.

“Bought it from some dude who hailed from Pipersville. Heard of it? Sweet deal. Only 60,000 lindens — *no* shipping.”

But then the man in front of me changed. I was speaking to Keith B. again. Or was it Kevin A.? Of the Kevin Orchardsity trio. Time and Space and *Options* were still unstable here.

And who was I?

Better get further North. Totally away from the Chicken People.

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The New Truth

Cathy A., natural mate to Marcus Fox Smartville and also a DJ like Grey Scale Kimball, had long dug Elvis White but didn’t know about Elvis Black until he showed up at one of her pretend gigs in Kensington’s Serenityville day before Wednesday. Always with the primmy rose she was, thus couldn’t spin the other record, the dark side this time. Like the South — but they were *barely* in the North now. North side of the middle that is (Hills of Bill/Neutral Zone). But, perhaps: close enough.

Elvis Black, who of course is our Duncan Avocado in disguise once more, just sat on the wooden bench on the far side of the lawn, letting his presence be known. He didn’t want to seem threatening at all, just seen. Here was a keeper of the portal, he thought from within. Like Marcus before her. Maybe they’re even one and the same, or at least soulmates. I think with the common rose it’s obvious. Is it the *same* rose?

—–

Day after Thursday he stands before Cathy, turning Grey in the process. Exactly east from this spot on the day between Sunday and Tuesday of the previous week, Gabby Truth saw it coming.

“You have lost the West but gained the East,” he spoke, seeing visions in his scrying ball once again. “But, at the same time, you have lost the South, but gained — yes — the North.” He draws back his white, pancaked face from the glow. “Interesting.” He looked over at Elvis Black — black Elvis. “All the 4 directions at once, blabber de blah…”

But they weren’t “all at once,” as Gabby proclaimed. He had himself lost separation of time in his chatty mannerisms. Elvis’ — Duncan’s — losses were 2, the latter nested inside the former. This was not seen today, this between day.

—–

Duncan becomes fully Grey on a day of the week further down from Friday. “I have lost the South but gained the North,” he said in DJ character, staring at the 2 records, spun and un-spun.

Gabby Truth finally remembers to turn off the light in his crystal ball.

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Return

TO BE CONTINUED…

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August 15, 2019 · 7:38 am

All Hail the Pumpkin King?

Center. 128/128: Rhodenwald. Roads Rhoads Rhodes. LIVES (2nd and 1st). Black Man… Men. Central Pumpkin.

“Pipersville,” Hucka Doobie chipped in.

“Pipersville,” Baker Bloch reinforced from the corner.

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02

“Tell us about yourself — Elvis wasn’t it?”

“Black,” added Elvis, because he was. “Well, I liked books, no matter how dusty and boring. I’m a learned man. I enjoy truths over falsehoods. I don’t enjoy singing and dancing and womanizing as much as my white counterpart.” He turned the page, because he was reading and speaking at the same time. The word “white” had just been encountered. “That’s about all for now,” he said plainly.

Buster looked over at Bettie and raised his eyebrows. She knew what he was thinking and visa versa. This is Duncan again, playing some sort of trick on them. Or someone *through* Duncan playing a trick. But just because this was another black man…

Elvis Black changed. Duncan A. indeed.

“Do you know who I am yet?”

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Rhodenwald

“The South was wrong, you know. Worshiping 2 dimensional cartoon people like Hatfield over 3 dimensional history and facts, no matter how dusty and boring.”

Bettie stopped swinging and looked over at still swinging Nancy, imagining a horn growing out the far side of her head for some reason. Then she attempted to synchronize with her again and soon they were side-by-side.

Bettie later brought the subject up to Buster, turning tiny herself in the meantime.

“I’m more focused on the sinks and Lemon vs. Lime.”

“Nancy says that’s related,” spoke Bettie across from him.

Buster sits up while looking in the distance. “Hold on. I think I see Duncan.”

But it was another Black Man. Duncan had been replaced.

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Big Orange

The Rhode Gallery is no more in the Omega continent’s Meat City


Former Fenfarg neighbors (w/ “swastika windows”)

But, across the *road*…

… the sim of Rhodenwald certainly still is, thank God.


“I know who you are.”

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