Daily Archives: August 21, 2019

pub

‘666 Satan’, it’s called, Cathy A. One of my team researchers Scotty found it on a search for Dharmaraksa images, Google style — almost gave up for the night then checked one more time and found this. And, get this, turns out the main character of the series is named *Ruby*. *You’re* the 666th character of these Collagesity novels. Red Devil was here in this town as late as last week with his unknown establishment of Southern bias. Left a *sign* there: 66, which translates into the same (666).

“And I can *talk* to you without those blasted *hearing aids.* Everything points to you being Ruby yourself. Well, not *that* Ruby necessarily but *our* Ruby, the one that blew up *our* New Island at the age of exactly 15 1/2. Now keep that in mind when I read some notes Scotty sent me along with the (‘666 Satan’ texture).” Eraserhead Man pulls out a small notebook from his pocket. “Let’s see. Okay, this is from a combination of several sources. Alright: ‘Set in the near future, it tells the story of a teenage girl named Ruby Crescent who wants to become a treasure hunter.’ And then he goes on, um, ‘(She’s) a teenage girl of *15*’ — *our* Ruby’s 15 and a 1/2. Can’t get any more 15 than that.” Eraserhead Man flips a couple of pages in his notebook, then: “So there’s mention of a 4 year *timeskip*, just like New Island went though. Again: *our* New Island, not the one out in the middle of the Indian Ocean. This is Our Second Lyfe we’re talking about here. But — this is important too — *that* Ruby, the ‘666 Satan’ one, aged. Turned all voluptuous during those years. *Our* Ruby never changed. She remains, well,” and here Eraserhead Man cups his yellow cartoon hands underneath his breast region. “No real *b’s*. Apples in Preston Weston speak.”

“Hey, thanks a lot. I’ve got b’s.”

“Well I know you do, sweetie. But you’re naturally…”

“Petite,” Cathy A. finishes for Eraserhead Man. “Dainty? *Stunted*?”

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motel

“I think that’s the worst part of leaving the South for me, Jer my bro.” He stares at Bogart and Bergman on the screen. “No colored TV.”

“I hear ya.”

—–

“I *love* black and white TV,” Cathy A. squeals downstairs at basically the same instant in time. “Reminds me of my childhood in…” She tails off here.

“In where, pumpkin spice? You mean…?”

“Yeah.”

Marcus Fox Smartville studies her sad face, so filled with joy just a moment before. Then he notices the rose.

Not the same hand, not the same color. Just with the insinuation of Crabwoo everything had changed.

“I’m remembering things,” she said.

—–

“Anorexia?” he responds just a minute later. “What kind of name is *that*?”

“She goes by Annie.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Gregson, Maebaleia/Satori^^