Tronesisia calls the meeting to order.
Hucka Doobie:
What are you Tronesisia? (He was blunt tonight.)
bb:
Instead, Hucka D. — or Hucka Doobie here in this meeting, this Second Lyfe of ours — let’s go around The Table and introduce ourselves.
Tronesisia:
I’m Tronesisia. Should we identify our town region?
bb:
Sure.
Tronesisia:
I am neutral, then. I am from the future, 2052.
bb:
Thank you Tronesisia. Nice to meet you. Enjoy your beer, hehe.
Tronesisia:
I will.
bb:
So beside her we have the now blog famous Cardboard Derek Jones.
CDJ:
That’s C. Derek Jones now. And I’d like to announce to those who don’t know that I have a cottage in Westside now, and I will keep Floydada open all the time on the lime table within for those who want to study it. Wander in, pull up a seat. Well, I’ll have to add the seat soon, but it’ll be there for you in a couple of hours to a couple of days.
bb:
Thank you C. Derek Jones. And you’re obviously from Westside.
CDJ:
You’re darn toot’n! And, yeah, I’m going to add here to start that Westside now wags the dog that is VWX Town, thanks to The Diagonal and this here church. Don’t you all agree?
(Grumbles from the crowd, some agreeing but most just grumbling incoherently.)
bb:
Next we have a red robot from Southside.
Redbot:
Red robot, Southside, yes.
bb:
Then Carrcassonne, who has very recently had to switch from Central to Southside due to the relocation of the Temple of TILE, her home. Do you have anything else to say now, Carrcassonne?
Carrcassonne:
I am the one, the all. Alpha and omega. Hear me and hear the world, the universe. Listen.
bb:
Thanks. Next we have Grey Seal, also from Southside. And you’re a neighbor of Carrcassonne’s now.
(Grey Seal barks.)
bb:
Next we have Furry Carl, now long time proprietor of the Hole in the Wall bar, originally in New Pietmond I believe, Carl.
Furry Carl:
Have a beer. Merry fucking summer.
bb:
I will in a moment, thanks. And thanks for providing the refreshments for the meeting, Carl, including this delicious but now almost empty giant bottle of wine from the Hole in the Wall Cellar Dweller, soon to open underneath the Sink Lair gallery. Fantastic.
Furry Carl:
Fucking… Merry… Christmas.
bb:
Next, just keeping to our counterclockwise direction we come to… well who are you small boy?
Furry Carl:
Fucking beer. Merry fucking beer Christmas. (pause) Dweller.
Carrcassonne:
Carl’s saying that the boy is from Pietmond and he has seen a lot but not the all that I have. He watched from his gazebo perch as Old Pietmond was destroyed piece by piece, building by building. He had to watch. He could not look away. He watched, he looked. He cannot speak now.
bb:
Traumatized?
(Carrcassonne does not answer.)
bb:
Does he have a region in town? (no one answers) I suppose we’ll just call him a Pietmond visitor or observer, then. We better move on to…
… the Johns/Jones twins, Biker and Ranger. Great friends you are, I understand. And you’re both from Central.
Biker Jones:
Follow the robots!
Ranger Johns:
Which way to the galleries?
bb:
Thanks guys. That brings us to, well, Ben Thar, do you want to go first before Hucka Doobie?
(Ben Thar laughs crazily.)
bb:
Well, I know that you’ve run a number of town halls now, Ben, being an information point to New Pietmond and VWX Town both — maybe Old Pietmond as well.
(more laughing.)
bb:
Then we come to Hucka Doobie. What can I say Hucka. You’re our blog spirit here, the glue that glues things together. The word that comes from nowhere to somewhere. The highest within the lowest. The upper, the downer. You’ve been with me, baker b., quite a long time now. Your story has been told in the “Where are we on that?” gallery and blog entries. You invented the Second Life beehive constructions. Your soul use to inhabit the body of renowned New Mexican surrealist Charles Nelson Blinkerton. You’re here in Second Life all the time as one of the undead, and you make a mean shepherd’s pie. Let’s hear it for Hucka Doobie.
(The room erupts in cheers. Everyone loves Hucka.)
bb:
Then we have another robot, this one from Central.
Bluebot:
Hello.
bb:
And then last but probably not least, the most famous of famous, Philip Linden.
Philip Linden:
Nice to be here. I don’t have a region. Just observing, like the Pietmond boy over there.
bb:
Thanks. So we’re ready to begin. Oh wait…
… forgot about you guys behind me — Barney Rubles and Ross C., both from Westside. Anything to say?
(no answer.)
bb:
Let’s begin.
(to be continued.)
Sunklands 