Daily Archives: September 2, 2018

Billy

“No dancing today?” queried the disappointed Spocari.

“Later on in the afternoon, yeah,” gruffed Natali, awkward in motion when out of character but silky smooth as Molly Lustrous, Queen of Dance. Queen of Lemony Past, she also became as that character. But Natali didn’t know so much. Natali only knew there were secret passages underneath Bar Lemon that needed to be explored today; needed to be shown to this deep, level voiced alien-man who was more attractive to Molly than herself. Molly felt he was in danger of tilting toward the wrong side (Orange?), thus gave control over to Natali this morning. “Just in here,” she beckoned at the web covered entrance of the sewer tunnel. “Follow me.”

—–

“Errm, okay. Another dead Grey. So what?”

“No.”

“No? Looks Grey to me.”

“*No*… look.”

The large headed alien on the bed began to stir, sat up. He looked around nervously, then relaxed.

“Ahh, Natali. So I’m still not discovered, phew.” He wipes his substantial forehead of some developed perspiration. “Bring any of my special beer brew down here from the bar by chance? Because I’m *out* of it.”

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any red-blooded man could succumb

“So this is supposed to be some kind of re-creation of the Nehi Indians’ Bottle Town,” grumbled Captain Spocari Nemoy, standing on the edge of the sim and staring across a shallow bay — perhaps another, larger borrow pit even — toward Wallytown’s main beach. “I doubt it, but I have to examine all angles before the Great Descent. Orange versus Purple.”

He checks his watch on his laser weaponed arm. “10:00am: better get over to Bar Lemon and talk to Natali or, ahem, Molly Lustrous again about all this,” he continued talking to himself. “I of course have to filter what she says through my radical logic, but the babe’s a total fount of information, lemony past and all. Plus I kind of like watching her dance; must appeal to my human side.” But he better watch that, else the green blood immunity might be negated.


Active members of Nehi’s Orange Tribe ascending the mound in lemony past.

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