h is for

“Soup anyone?” Melvin asks innocently to both.

“Not now, Melvin, thank you.”

The small demon dutifully withdrew toward the stairs, biding his time. Chloe directed her attention back to the visitor who had just teleported in through her offer.

“Okay, Sandy. What’s going on? *Are* you still Sandy? You look all weird.”

“Well,” Sandy Wanna Be tried to counter. “How about *you*? Where’s, um, your *hair*?”

“I have hair. Blue like the sky. The sea and the sky both.” But here she reaches up to feel her stringy, wet curls and only grasps air.  “Whe – where *is* it?? Aaarrgggh.” She flings the swim cap into the sea from which she just came at this point. I mean, the stream from which she just came. One of ’em, perhaps both of ’em.  She pats and feels and pats and slaps. Still no hair to find up there. Certainly she would be pulling it now if she had some.

“May I suggest,” Sandy WB then said, watching over at the tantrum, “that someone *stole* it,” and with this himself disappears. Teleported out to safer lands. He didn’t like scenes.

“What the…?”

She tries to google “instant hair loss” on her smart phone but stops at the lock screen displaying her name.  It was here she noticed something else missing about her: the “h” in Chloe. Cloe instead of Chloe, it said.  She looked around in disbelief, shaking her bare head, but in just a moment forgot all about both losses.

Melvin approached again with upheld bowl. “Soup, miss?”

She “accidentally” dipped her hand into the morbid concoction. The hand disappears, followed by the rest.

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Eggplant 02

A peninsula would be a good place to swim, she then thought in a somewhat different form.

—–

“The blue hair will buy me more time to think about the next step, Ingo…

… er, *Sandy*.”

“I’m not Sandy,” spoke the figure across from her who looked like a cartoon version of actor Sandy Beech or character Herbert Dune (a cartoon figure himself, hence doubly so). Doppleganger, she realized. But what about herself? Fresh from a swim?

—–

She leaned back, studying what had just happened. Swimming hair… swim cap. Yes, this could work…

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Eggplant

The Peninsula it is called, because it lies between two bodies of water and also kind of juts into them. Sort of. Anyway, the name still seems apt, given the flag in Heidi Hunt Ives’ new bedroom in her new digs, formerly Danny’s trailer. But who lives in the Scarlet Creative Sylvia House that sort of centers this peninsula? Is it Mabel once more? Or Ruby?

“That’s very nice Melvin,” Baker Bloch says as the small demon offers him a fresh bowl of hot fly and centipede soup while he ponders such questions.

Whatever, 7 Stones seems as alive as it ever has and in no danger of going away anytime soon atall now.

Maybe it’s *finally* time to bring back Karoz, hmmm.

Baker then watches reruns of old Lum and Abner shows on the tellie with Jerry until the latter gets sleepy and is put to bed by Gus, the caretaker taking care of the evil spawn until permanent residents are decided for *this* place, another NWES transplant into 7 Stones…

… as is the Red Umbrella gallery on the upper side of the Peninsula. Nifty. Switching out the larger Red Umbrella formerly here for this considerably smaller one allowed the formation of the Peninsula in the first place; domino effect once more.


Almost got it…

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flagged 02

A boy of 13 rotated back to 10 and around and around. Trapped, although on sunnier days he can glimpse 18.

—–

To come back here to live? Permanently? Never to leave again? That could be an answer.

—–

“I’m not 10, I’m 13. Legal age to work where I come from.”

Baker Bloch looks down at the filled in paperwork. “I see: Bennington. Rough place. Describe your childhood.”

George knew he didn’t have a childhood. Only 10 to 13 to 10 and back and back and back. Except for the glimpses. “Oh, you know, the usual.”

“Gangs?” queries the male Baker.

“Couple,” spoke George honestly. “Bands we call them.”

Baker sensed the interview was over. “We have one more applicant. We’ll be making a decision very soon. Thanks for your time in coming in.” Baker was thinking: we were really looking for a different kind of shapeshifter but this could be handy too. He rechecked George’s phone number before releasing him back into the world.

—–

“Describe your shapeshifting abilities.” Baker knew this was a crucial point.

“Wellll… I have a dog one, if that’s what you’re interested in. Could be handy for, I don’t know, entering collages.”

—–

I think we have our man,” Baker spoke to Hucka Doobie later. “And he’s a girl.”

—–

“And this is your bedroom…”

“Schweet.”

“I can’t fit in there because I’m too tall. Enjoy!”

—–

“Now to find where Cloe went in this stupid game, hmph.”

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back in NWES…

“Why are we still here, Alice?”

“Merry, please,” Merry Gouldbusk requested. “Merry Gouldbusk,” she asked in full.

“Sure, um, but, er, all the cameras have left. We’re all alone. Bob Waffleburg’s already started his next production. An adaptation of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s ‘Septimius Felton.'”

“Oh we’re still being filmed.” She looked all around at the camera-less vicinity.

“Yeah, so you’ve said before.” Actor Jack Toadswallow stared over at his co-star. *Former* co-star. But lover in this reality, not little sister. True, he was observing her all the time. *He* was filming her, in a way, in a manner. With his eyes.

Something appeared in the distance, beyond the missing piece of wall, perhaps beyond the skyscraper even. Alice pointed it out.

“Look, Ingo.” Jack had given up trying to get Alice to call him by his real name any more.

“Yes, what is it dear?” He still stared, he still photographed. What she saw excited her: dilated pupils. He turned as well.

“W-what is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know Alice, er, Merry,” replies the smaller in stature lover/brother. Looks like some kind of art from my angle.”

“*Floating* art?” she exclaimed.

“Um, yes. Not attached to ground. Attached to air instead. Sky art. Perhaps even skyscraper art,” he elaborated as it then began to float into same, swallowing green, blue/yellow, and red in sharp order.

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Filed under *Second Life, Jeogeot^^, NWES Island

changes

“Is this life ever gonna get old to us, Philip? This Gastion — notice the name change?”

“Doubtful, Marion.

Doubtful.”

Early the next day, Marion and Philip realized that Gastion was just a (high) pot name and the real name of the sim had not changed. It remained Gaston. But, in fun, the two partnered criminals called it Gastion (or sometimes Gas Station or just Station) from here on out.

Then one day, without Philip, Marion visited the creepy alley behind the “Station” with the aid of Golden Joe.

“Uugh. Where *am* I?” he asked groggily while swatting away leaves from his face.

—–

“And *who* am I?”

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Filed under *Second Life, Gaston^^

Gast(i)on

It was almost a perfect sim, what with its trash and gutter filth. Very realistic; a perfect place to meet… someone.  And the Oracle predicted its importance: Hidden Vilage (etc.). But she must return and merge with the other Hucka Doobie, the one that didn’t get this far. She knew that.

But she still had some time before the exit.

—–

The Rhino represents a direct link between here and NWES, our new focus. Rhino in each. And the *same* one (same object from same owner).

George’s Abbey Road VW remains just down the street. An indication of what’s going on (Portal; multiple).

—–

If only Jacob I. was still around, she thought while laying outside the *original* Joint Joint in the “Black Side” of the village, another thing shared with NWES (and right beside the duplicate Rhino over there — more emphasis).

—–

Ah ha. Tin Machine.

—–

Uncle Zach still shooting up and not listening to local phenom Firesign Theatre. But we’ve seen him more recently: Pipersville; (owner of a) *Gas* Station (Gastion). Should’ve known.

And that was Firesign Theatre on the turn table up there. Not Tin Machine. My mistake. Platinum (not tin). That place must be Domino’s still. Hitgal is probably around, then. Best friend Sangria too.

This side of town retains power.


Diving in again…

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