Monthly Archives: January 2017



“For the life of me, Old Mabel, I can’t *see it*.”

“I’m saying: turn around please Baker Bloch. You’re looking the wrong way. Look at where *I’m* looking.”

“I *am* Old Mabel. “Nothing is there. Nothing at all.”


“Something is appearing inside,” said Old Mabel, peering down.




“Then I woke up, Baker Bloch. Another dream about the forest. At the tree where Urch disappeared 2 nights before. 125/125.”


“The big eucalyptus tree, yeah. Big enough to hide a man the size of me inside.”

“That tree is a portal.”

“Maybe they all are,” responds Baker. “The eucalyptus, the brown cypress, the green cypress. All along that line. And then Unch himself (or herself) at 168/168. Still haven’t met Unch, er, face to face?”


“How about now?” Baker offers. “It’s nighttime after all.”

“You guys aren’t talking about those woods again, are you?” asks Furry Karl, walking up with another Krings beer for Baker Bloch. “I still don’t like that kind of talk in my bar. I’m up here in SoSo Mall because of it. Just to get a *little* further away from those trees. So they can’t listen in. Careful with that wine glass, baby doll,” he then says to Old Mabel. “It’s been Spillsville around here.”

“I will,” she replies, and then looks at Baker Bloch again. A vision of a double headed Winfield flashes through her mind. Fused. Fire. So much fire.

“I suppose you heard Karoz is back,” says Karl, changing the subject. “Back from space. Still doing the bidding of that demon Wheeler.”

“Shhh,” reprimands Baker. “Don’t say that too loud.”

‘What… *demon*?” speaks Karl defiantly. “She’s over on that island of hers now. She can’t hear us. The *woods* might be able to hear us, but she can’t. I think we have bigger problems if people are starting to dream about that place. It’s 1968 all over again. Treestock.”

“You know so much about local history, Karl,” says Baker.

“I do,” responds Karl quickly.

“Someone should interview you,” completes Baker.

“I’ll do it,” volunteers Old Mabel, raising her hand. Baker wonders if she might be a little drunk tonight. She’s not use to drinking wine, but she purposely spurned her usual lemonade, saying she needed to lay off the sweets to see if it was affecting her dreams. Maybe she’s just trying to numb her brain into a good night’s sleep.

“Well, that’s awfully sweet of you deary.”

“I’m *serious*,” she emphasized. “I want to do it. Let’s set up a date now, while we’re talking about it. If we wait it might be too late.”

Baker thinks he sees Old Mabel sway a bit in her seat. “Maybe we better get you home,” he says, standing up.

Old Mabel shakes her head. “I’m not going back home. I’m not laying down on that couch. I’m not *dreaming* tonight. I don’t want to dream. I want to stay awake. Baker, please stay awake with me. Until sunrise. Then everything will be all right. It’s 2 o’clock now. Sunrise in 3, 4 hours. Stay with me. Hold me.” She falls from her stool and softly sprawls out on the floor. “I’m okay,” she declares, but can’t get up.

“Come on Mabel,” says Baker, offering a hand. “Let’s go home.”


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“I’ll have what he’s having, Furry Karl.” Karl pours Karoz Blogger a glass of red house wine. “Add it to my tab,” Karoz then says, making the bartender sigh but nod.


“Pay up by the end of next month,” he warned. “And Tom’s rent is due as well. Where’ve you been? Galavanting around space still?”

“No,” says Karoz. “I’m done with that.”

“You mean *Wheeler* is done with that,” Furry Karl corrects.

“Yeah,” Karoz admitted. He took a sip of wine and looked down at his hands.

“Well… good to have you back still, I suppose. Just kidd’n. I missed you. A little.”

Karoz smiles. “I’ll pay you back, Furry Karl, I promise. You know I’m good for my word. I’m pulling some extra shifts at the Bodega Market to make up for lost time. And Wheeler granted me a stipend. I’m working for her, and I’m working for Tom.”

“How did Tom the Busker get ownership of that market again?” queries Karl, referring to the store directly across from his own establishment in SoSo Mall.

“Excuse me,” said the stranger also drinking wine to Karl. “Do you have a magnifying glass by chance? I can’t seem to read this one particular quote in lower type.”

Furry Karl looked annoyed. This stranger had been sitting at the bar for what seemed like a week to him. “No, I don’t have a magnifying glass. And this isn’t the library, by the way. That’s through the mall and down Old Cannon Road to your left. Maybe ol’ Bean will have a magnifying glass over there. Why don’t you try.”

“Oh, I think I can just make it out, thank you anyway,” says the stranger, eyes closer to his book now and either oblivious to Karl’s annoyance or just not caring if he does notice. He murmurs softly to himself now as he reads.

“Anyway,” Karl continues. “Spill the wine.”

Karoz tips over the wine glass.

“Not *literally*!”


“Sorry,” says Karoz. “So clumsy.”

“I’ll go get a rag from in back,” says an exasperated Karl.

The distraction worked. Karoz didn’t have to answer another question about Tom for almost a whole week. And by that time, he’d also figured out some more lies to tell about his job over at New Island. Polishing the silverware; yeah that’s it.

When Furry Karl returned, Karoz had already cleaned up the spill with a borrowed book. “Well, I suppose it’s time to get going,” the stranger said, making Karl’s frown turn upside down.


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S x SW


“A gap in the south-southwest,” Baker thinks while within this circle of 8 rocks in the Slosser sim, only a couple hundred meters south-southwest (!) of Collagesity (as he found out a little later). The parcel is Lost Garden owned by the SL Public Land Preserve, dedicated to, “help keep SL spaces open,” according to the parcel description. Baker Bloch immediately joins the group for L$5.

Clicking the profile link of the rocks’ creator, Garvie Garzo, brings him quickly to a sim called New Moon. Here he uncovers a duplicate set of rocks on an island in a western archipelago. Cool. He now sees each of the 8 stones is penetrated by a individualized sword. Here are the attached names:

Mawrth Mageblade
Silverlight of Wranws
Longsword of Iau
Daear Diamond Sword
Neifion Lightbringer
Sadwrn’s Shadowsteel
Mercher Spellblade
Burning Sabre of Gwener

In their midst is this central lower rock containing sculptures of the sun and the moon with stylized human faces, the great opposition of masculine and feminine energies. And Baker Bloch keeps in mind that this is the New *Moon* sim, named for a monthly phenomenon where the Earth blocks the moon from receiving the sun’s enlightening rays.


Between the stylized sun and moon lies an object called the Mirror of Darkness, perhaps standing for the Earth itself. Then in front of this is a book with the description of “The Taika Altar”, which doesn’t sound like a title. Baker is checking…

Here it is (!):

So this is the “Book of Taika”. Baker has to purchase the set! But before running off to a store location provided by that link above, he looks over the rest of the archipelago. Not a lot there, but a twisting orange and pink “bridge” attempting to span a couple of the islands caught his eye above all else (name: “net bridge fail”).


“Orange, hmm,” Baker muses. He attempts to teleport to the store but disappointingly finds its location currently blocked. Baker tries to contact Wheeler for advice, but, as usual, she is “away”, perhaps bumming around that new island she’s been on about for a day or so. New Island — New Moon. “Hmm,” again.

Couple more shots from the New Moon archipelago:




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… jump.

(continued from)


Urch was daydreaming about logging when Old Mabel fell from the sky. She remembered her mission: emissary.

“No time follow me,” she said in a course voice as Old Mabel got up from the floor and dusted herself off. “Unch is waiting. 7:10, tick tock. Gravity Falls.”

Old Mabel had never met Urch before. She began to think the obvious.

Urch opened the seldom used front door of the Blue Feather, part of the original castle it was built around. “You think that you are dreaming, no? Test it on this lamp blocking the open door. If you are dreaming, the room will remain lit when you turn off the light. Go ahead — try it.”


Old Mabel turned off the light. The room remain lit. “Now you know,” Urch said, and walked out the door into the forest. She had no choice but to follow.


Then she was at 97/97/97 with Urch. The two stand uncomfortably close to each other. “Unch lies along this line,” the child hobo said, pointing northeast.


“Unch is the orange you seek. He is the whole within the hole. Go within and you’ll see time itself split up into soapy bubbles. Alienatorooter.” Old Mabel then imagines 8 oranges sitting around The Table with a thick book in their midst. Not Floydodo but Floydada. A 9th appears to their south-southwest, quickly turning into a purple martin bird which then flies left into the woods. “9 not 8,” Old Mabel realizes. “The Table is incomplete still.”

“Unch will clarify. Nighttime in reality. Daytime in dreams. Walk with me.”



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Might as well…


Old Mabel has decided to indulge in an old love and re-take up painting, but tonight finds her just staring at a blank canvas until she looks at the time and remembers the Table Meeting. “Don’t want to be late again!” she says as she stores away the paint laden palette.

But she was anyway. 7:05: Wheeler was already passing around oranges to everyone as she hustled up the stairs into the room. The Beatles walking Abbey Road once more adorned the wall at the top. And the flatties at the bottom she dreamed about 2 nights before remained. There was also a new throw pillow placed just to the left of the stairs going up.


“Ah, *Old* Mabel. Just in time for your fruit. Here you go.” Wheeler threw the orange at an unprepared Old Mabel, who was holding a notepad. The orange flew past her to the left, landing on the floor and bounding down the stairs she just navigated.

“*Sorry* I’m late,” she said, placing the notepad in front of her chair at The Table. “I’ll go retrieve that.”

“Please do, and hurry,” says Wheeler. “Hopefully it didn’t fall through the crackway into the lower floor. It might take you an hour to get back!”

Old Mabel quickly reviewed in her mind where the opening Wheeler mentioned was, and the route she would have to take to return if she too needed to fall through. 1st to 3rd to 2nd. That’s how it works in Wheeler’s lemony Blue Feather.

“Oh dear,” she said after going back down the stairs and not seeing the orange anywhere in the antechamber. “Looks like Wheeler’s worries have come to, er, *fruition*.”


She’d have to jump down.


(continued in)


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“We are similar.” (2 minute pause) “Help me.”





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Dear Diary,


I am starting a diary to add to the 3rd already in my possession. This goes beyond that show with the other Mabel and the other Little. I am *Old* Mabel, not the child in the story. I am the equivalent of 13 and beyond the town in the show. Little and I have been separated. The children in that show remain together in the end, facing the problems of life together. I do not have that choice. I am alone, but *my* town (Collagesity) has supported me, Baker Bloch of course, but also Baker Blinker, Hucka Doobie, Jiff, Brenda, Tin S. Man, and others. Even Wheeler the demon in her own special way. She often appears to me in dreams. I know it is her and that she is real. She is a character in the other show as well. She or he is called Bill there. Wheeler often proclaims she is The Bill. Yet this concept seems to originate from another source *beyond* either storyline. Wheeler has told me that another town, called Billville, is involved. I have looked this up on Wheeler’s Big Board of interweb connections in the Table Room and it is indeed real, along with complementary Elmertown. More on the latter soon, dear diary. I promise. The end.

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Rubis and Sylver

“We have to lend all our resources to Old Mabel. She’s on to something. A definite trail through the wilderness.”

“Strange that Chesterton the Librarian would skateboard into her and blow her up,” Baker Blinker responded, referring to very disturbing and lucid dream Old Mabel had the previous night.”

“Maybe she was just trying to wake herself up… so she could remember more of the dream’s details. But she was quite rattled. I reinforce: she thought it was real within the dream. She thought she actually died. She felt her soul depart from her body. She floated up up up. Back to Mars. Little was there. He was dead as well.”

“Awful. And your other theory — about Little contacting Old Mabel through Jiff?”

“Well — before he departed through the woods portal with Brenda — you know, the giant female warrior, and, some say, his lover — Jiff insinuated to Old Mabel that he is a probable Little trapped in a different body.”

“Say that again?” Baker Blinker requested.

“I said, Jiff stated to Old Mabel on the day of his departure that he was her brother Little Big trapped in a different body. Not quite reincarnation, he emphasized, but related to it. All that he knew was that he was Little, another warrior but from a different era.”

“He could be delusional,” a realistic Baker Blinker proclaims.

“Possibly. But Old Mabel is leaning toward believing him. Jiff said he would return in several weeks, which would be considerably longer for him and Brenda in their timeline. They too have a battle to fight, but he wouldn’t give specifics. He hinted around that Rubi demons were involved again. And the Sylver Forest.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

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Swinging but not driving…


A sunset swing helps Old Mabel prepare for another potential rough night of dreaming.

At the appropriate moment, she slides off and looks for Unch. The sun had just disappeared under the horizon.


“Can’t quite spot him from here if he’s there,” she says to herself in a low voice. “Or her,” she tacks on dutifully. Seven o’clock: time to meet Baker Bloch at the Joker’s Wild. Much to talk about!


“Hmm,” Baker Bloch says, landing just north of the mall while attempting to teleport directly inside. “Old Mabel clearly said this graffiti read: Soos.”



“You’ve dreamed about Chesterton the Librarian before haven’t you?”


“On a number of occasions,” answers Old Mabel, She swirls her lemonade around in its glass. “Night before, he was in a corner of my living room loudly munching on some delicious puffed cornmeal product.”

“In the Small House or Big House?”

“I’ve started to call them Old House and Big House. Because one was born 5 minutes after the other.”

“Ahh,” Baker responds, understanding this is a reference to her, Old Mabel, and her slightly younger twin brother Little Big. Nothing to do with the actual history of the houses in all likelihood.

“But it was Old House. That was the dream I talked to Spongebill Triangleslacks, Snowbob’s great uncle. Did you know he called him grunkle instead of great uncle? Another bleedthrough from that show.”

“Which we need to talk about in some detail, Old Mabel,” Baker says from his stool. “Map the comparisons out. But whether you believe me or not, the concept of The Bill predates finding out about the show. I didn’t make the link until early November, I believe, when, um, I retrieved that diary out of the library for Wheeler. Number 3,” he clarified. “The original find.”

“Just like Dipper first found the 3rd diary in, er, his *own* show. Not *inside* a tree, but the mechanism triggering the release of the trap door in the ground is found in the tree. It’s metal in the show. I don’t think Unch is made of metal.”

Baker pondered what Old Mabel had implied. “Unch is the source of the diary — I suppose that could make sense.”

“Maybe all 3 diaries which are actually one conglomerate work,” Old Mabel adds. “Three-in-one.”


Meanwhile, Unch tries to listen in from the the woods but can’t quite spot them.


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Sewed Up? 03

(continued from)

Wheeler was gone, and then Old Mabel saw the teleport invite. “Join me in Zao.” She complied, and found herself in the middle of an almost empty room. A stoic security guard stood next to the door.


“This is where reality ends and collage starts. Look into the corners, Old Mabel. Are you awake or dreaming? Is that munchkin librarian over there real or hallucination?”

Mabel scanned each corner but didn’t see a thing. She was beginning to think Wheeler might be quite insane…

… until she went through the door and turned around.






“I think you better start spelling it with that extra “n”, love. It took me weeks to pick up his trail.”



The end?

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