Monthly Archives: June 2018

Fishers

Lisa the Vegetarian was very disappointed to learn that rumors of her brother Bartholomew living on New Island turned out to be false. All witnesses seemed to have seen was this flattie replica sold for L$30 in a popular northern island store. After manifesting the demo, she and Fisher stayed inside a yellow caution ribbon to avoid getting run over by the fast skating figure. “Soooo, does this mean you’ll be leaving the island soon?” Fisher had to ask, prompting Lisa to reply, “We’ll see.”

While there, Fisher pretends to become the victim of a crime scene. Bernard the Bear, shopping for 4th of July gifts for his relatives — flattie Tasmanian Devil for Uncle Lester, a Roadrunner for Aunt Samantha, etc. — gets in on the fun as well.

But it was Snoupy as the Red Baron, along with accompanying doghouse, that Fisher decides to purchase today.

Lisa settles for a Yellow Submarine demo. She needs to save her money for traveling expenses. Already she’s planning to call cousin Eleanor in Corsica’s Fisher Rigg to see if she can moor her houseboat there for at least a couple of days. “Bad news about Bart,” she imagines telling Eleanor in her head. “Still on the lam.”

Fisher Rigg, hmm, she then considers. Any possible relation to *this* Fisher? *And*: should she take him with her?? Could it already be time for him to leave New Island?

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heart to heart

“I don’t understand why you want to do this, daddy.”

“The Diagonal seems to indicate it. And… I get lonely, Zero. You and Indigo are the best daughters a Nuffin man like me could possibly wish for, but….” Angus Nuffin trails off, trying to figure out the best way to articulate what was in his heart.

“You’re saying, Fatherhood isn’t the be all end all,” Ragdoll helps, her blue button eyes watering up a bit. “After all, *we*, Indigo and I, wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for mother.”

And now you might have a new mother, Angus thinks but doesn’t speak aloud. He shields his black dot peepers from the rising sun, now over the eastern palms.

“It’s like this island, pumpkin,” Angus says, using the metaphor of the moment. “Right in front of you but not there atall — off the sim border in the Nothing Ocean. You can’t reach it now; out of bounds. But someday, sometime, we all have to experience this island, admit its reality. We have to cross a line.” He flips over and changes.

“We’re going to throw you the best birthday party you’ve ever seen when I get back, Zero. Just day after tomorrow.”

Yippy, she thinks sardonically, still heartbroken. She’s not losing a daddy, just, maybe, gaining a mommy? But it didn’t sound right, and perhaps never would. She stares over at the island; Martha Lamb of all people! But I guess there simply weren’t that many eligible women in Collagesity. And, like daddy says or implies, he has needs. She might just have to get use to the idea. Surely she can. Can’t she?

—–

Later that night…

“Say what’s in your heart, Sid. Speak to me. Here: take my hand.”

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main

“A clown?” Mary exclaimed upon meeting the Good Rev. Amos T. Sandman yesterday at the Main Church of Cheese over in the Pond District. “No *wonder* you hate the Cult of Oo’d so much!”

“Indeed!” the Reverend exclaimed back. “*Now*. Which of the gateway gods do you choose to worship today?” He shields his mouth with his hand and says in a considerably lower voice: “Say fries, say fries.”

“Um. Fries I suppose.”

“Good choice!” the Reverend said, returned to shouting mode. “Please join Sister Deni Stew Moore at the appropriate side altar.” He waves to his right. “You have 8 minutes, then must yield to another. As you can see, for a Wednesday we have quite the crowd here, and more are filing in — everyone needs a turn. And the fries are a very popular warmup before the main course here at the Main. Enjoy!”

When Mary goes to the side altar to join a woman who’s apparently been totally cheesed (Mary had been warned about such staunch devotees), she found she couldn’t bend her knees in the proper, reverential fashion and merely had to sit upon the provided pose ball.

“Psst. Mary,” the cheese being next to her whispered out of the side of her curdled mouth. “It’s me. Bill.”

“Wheeler?”

She whispered again, more urgently. “Keep it down, keep it down. And address me as Bill from now on. I’m the queen after all.”

“Sure you are, Wheeler… Bill. But what’s this all about?”

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Darkly Manor

“Looks like no one’s coming to our little soiree, Osborne.” Pitch appears to listen to a nonexistent voice across the table from him, white hand to white ear. “What’s that? You forgot to send out the invitations to your 478th birthday?” Pitch settles back into his black widow chair. “Well, yeah I did, Osborne. Because I want to be alone with my thoughts tonight. And you my friend, with your batty, flying books, don’t count.

Main problem: His wife Mary had gone with Martha Lamb to the *main* Fries with Cheese Church over in the Pond District to meet the higher ups, she said, seemingly so excited about the visit that Pitch’s birthday was forgotten. Oh well, he tried to rationalize. It wasn’t the 475th or the 480th or any of the important ones. Pitch himself forgot his 321st, 351st, 378th, 421st, and 457th. But having a wife is different; in his mind, he was thinking she was suppose to remind *him* of such occasions.

Did he do something to offend her? he wondered. Let’s see, her birthday is February 25th. Checks to that — he got her a nice bouquet of roses, red and blue both. 1st Date Anniversary — also a check. White lilies this time. At least a half dozen, he speculated. “Osborne,” he pipes up again, “you’re good with counting. How many lilies did I give Mary for our date anniversary?” He listens to the nonexistent voice again. “12, hmm. Twice as many as I remembered. See, there’s no reason for her to be pissed off at me. It *had* to be an oversight.”

But his thoughts turn again to Sister Martha Lamb, a person he did not trust one iota. Mary has had private counseling sessions with her up in that stinky church of hers and always came home acting a little weird to him, like a distance had formed between them. She was quite happy and content to accompany Pitch to the services at the Cult of Oo’d Church before the coming of Lamb and her Fries with Cheese intrusion next door. Sure she was disgusted and angry that time some of the sacrificial blood squirted her way and ruined one of her Sunday Best dresses. They don’t sit in the front pews any more; problem solved.

A knock at the front door downstairs. Pitch looks hopefully over at Osborne. Mary! he thought. Rushed home to apologize.

But it was “only” his good friend Woody Woodmanson from up the road, large present in hands. “I’m surprised you didn’t have a party,” his wooden comrade relayed to him after the handoff. You know how many friends you have in town. But I guess you and Mary probably just wanted to be alone, hehe.” He tried to nudge his friend in the ribs, but just swiped air. Woody was not the most coordinated of avatars

Afterwards:

“This is not what I expected Osborne. He’s always given me keys before.”

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stares

Turchin McGurchin was tidying up Mabel’s original Scarlet Creative Sylvia House when Ruby silently entered. “Don’t let me scare you old man,” she said to him from behind.” Turchin laid his broom aside and they hugged. 2 weeks was long enough to make a good friend.

—–

“It’s so beautiful here,” Ruby spoke while staring out across the expanse of the Rubi Woods from her higher perspective on the tire swing.

Turchin nodded from his chair while trying to fight nodding off at the same time. “Yup. Sure ’nuff is.”

Ruby just sat for a while, taking in the calmness and serenity. “Shame Mabel can’t live here… in this one.” She glances toward the SCS house just to her left now.

“Mabel will be back soon enough,” Turchin offered in his countrified manner of speaking. Slow and easy. “Best she’s not here for a spell — till she fully gets over Buurb. Yup, I saw it coming, all along.”

Rubi looked down at Turchin, then, after a smaller pause: “Do you think they still love each other?”

“Hard to tell. Since Buurb’s a girl again…” He lets it go at that.

Ruby stares down at her crossed feet. “Of course.”

—–

Turchin caught Ruby up with town news since her two week stay about a month back, a visit no one currently around remembered except for him. Maxism was on the rise again, thanks to the crafty graffiti he painted last Tuesday in the vacant Stairs gallery — and has added onto in the meantime.

Keep directing your stares toward Max, was the overall message he wanted to plant. Turn it up to the Max, was a related catch phrase he was tinkering with. “You can see Max anywhere from town if you turn up your draw distance to the max — 512 meters,” he explained to the 15 year old. “Fate,” he tacked on. Ruby asked about the other two religions in town and what would happen to them. “They’ll implode,” Turch said in uncharacteristic sharpness. “It’s just suppose to be Ruby — you — and Max.” But he was wrong about that.

—–

In his reinstated apartment, smoking and observing Roger Pine Ridge waited for someone to reenter Collagesity from the woods.

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proximate

2 days after Sister Martha Lamb hired Jack Richardson, son of Jack Richards, as a clerk at her Fries with Cheese branch church in Collagesity, he had to be let go. Constant sneezing, sniffing, and general unhealthy noises coming from his neighboring desk was the problem. Turns out he’s allergic to cheese, of all things. Looks like the Cult of Oo’d might have just picked up another devotee by default, unless the Maxites can steal him away. Whenever their status becomes official. For the moment, it’s just Ruby in Collagesity, but all that’s about to change. 3 times was the charm all along.

In the meantime, Martha Lamb remains covered up in paperwork.

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doppleganger

Dismally pained Ruby suddenly found herself in a totally different place, observing and wondering who Max was through focusing eyes while simultaneously being overwhelmed by the pungent odor of cheese.

She was back in Collagesity. Drying her tears, she realized she had to find Turch and catch up.

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(too) red (spot)

“Face it Ruby. Your aunt’s gone. I stopped DJ-ing about 5 hours ago and she’s still dancing up a storm. She’s lost. Lost to the beat of the island.”

“C. The tone is C.”

“C? Like in a musical C? Middle C?”

Middle-of-15 Ruby didn’t answer. “Take me back home, Fisher. I’m tired of hearing and seeing this.”

—–

“We FAILED in this one, Baker…!” Eraserhead Man turned in his rocking chair and squinted over at my avatar, trying to make out the sex, but his eyes weren’t adjusted yet. “Baker B.!” he just finished to cover both possibilities while resuming his coffee drinking.

“Why don’t you turn your hearing aid up, Eraserhead Man! But there’s Ruby left!”

“Ahh, Young RUBY. Elephant’s ears and eyes both.” By just mentioning (shouting) her name, Eraserhead Man could suddenly hear and see better; didn’t even need the hearing aid now. He pivoted again and saw he was talking to the male Baker. “The Corsica continent is still in play Baker *Bloch*. I didn’t try to nuke Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village for nothing!”

“I hear they have land sharks now!” my avatar offered about the continent.

“No need to shout, Male Baker. Hearing’s up.” Sipping EM gave him a thumbs up from behind.

“Oh. Didn’t even see you turn it up. But it’s different times, Eraserhead Man.”

“Pencil, please,” the rocking male requests, still staring ahead. “We’re *friends* now, I’m suddenly remembering.”

Baker B.’s memories started kicking in as well. Yes. *Friends*.

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hurt feelings

The next morning, Bill couldn’t stop playing a role.

“I mean I get the whore part but why did she have to add ‘trash’?” she complained to the hammerhead shark circling above. “Trash is just, well, trashy.”

“Whisk me away from this New Island to another land, Blow Boy. I command it.”

But Mid Hazel soon tracked down her former pupil and locked her in an underwater cage near the manor house for a tough love lesson. Wasn’t hard: she could literally smell the treason. “If you like the sea so much, you can stay down here for a while,” she cackled before leaving. And of course Mid Hazel couldn’t resist mixing the phrase “whore trash” into the conversation a couple of times.

Seven days she stayed down there. And when Mid Hazel released her on Saturday, Bill was indeed ready to hammer out a deal. Blow Boy was walking on another continent by now.

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one way two

“The walls are closing in on us, Ruby. We have limited time.”

“Have you been inside?” asked the wirey teenager while glancing over her shoulder at the new, western half of the castle. Axis’ castle, I suppose.

“The door remains locked.” On a whim, Mabel decided to do something else tonight. “Would you like to see another one of my incarnations? It may come in handy when trying to understand the battle between Bill and me for Collagesity later on. Won’t be long.”

“Sure.”

“That’s cool. Blonde hair again. I think I like the Martian angle better.”

“Very well.”

“Um, you’re still a little different than before.”

“Am I?” Mabel looked down at her dress, realized she had glasses on now. Sunglasses — lime colored ones, matching the dress. And hoop earrings! Yes, she remembered now. Montana. This was the outfit she concocted to sing at the Cult of Oo’d church last month. Must have gotten mixed up in her regular, normal day outfits. Embarrassed, Mabel decided not to divulge her more recent infatuation with pop singer Hannah Montana and also her father Billy Ray Cyrus. Daenerys from “Game of Thrones”: yes. Hannah and Billy: not quite yet.

But they must move on the meat of Mabel’s report. “Ruby, I cannot stress this enough. Do *not* return to the API with Shirley Boot or anyone else for that matter. This Mid Hazel’s presence is still strong there. Bill and I have talked. She’s agreed to meet the powerful witch — her mentor after all — face to face once more. In the old castle across Route 9. She could be over there right now.”

“Axis’?” queried Ruby, thinking of the high castle directly across the road from her Blue Rose Dune that she suspected may also belong to him.

No, this one is different. More of a manor, I suppose. I guess.”

—–

On a whim, Bill decided to show Mid Hazel another one of her incarnations. “Might come in handy later on,” she explained.

“Get that whore trash out of here,” the observing witch commanded.

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