The moment TILE got real.
“Green, Red! Come over here! We found something!”
Monthly Archives: February 2024
ALSO inside a polar circle:
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0042, 0111, Back Rooms, Europe, Google Street View
00420110
“Up here Superduper. I think we’ve found it.”
So The Penguin has set up a sinister Back Room location in Antarctica? Wouldn’t be the first.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0110, Back Rooms, Google Street View
how it began
Batty Man stared at Shakespeare staring at the phone whilst sidekick Superduper Guy read a book about squirrels in the distance. Bored out of his gourd, he decided to at least *pretend* something was happening. “Brrng brrng,” issued a noise from his mouth that was suppose to be the phone ringing. “Uh oh, better get that Shakey,” and he leaned over and picked up the red receiver.
“Antarctica!?” he yelled when the pretend person gave him imaginary information from the other side. “And maybe New Zealand ta boot!? WELLL. We better leap into action!” Shakespeare, who was only a head to begin with, flipped his lid with the news. A couple of button pressed in the resulting neck stump and the secret bookcase door slid open — ‘nother one.
“Tell me, Oh Batty One,” spoke Super over to his superior superhero boss before sliding down. “Is this mission really on the up and up or is this like all the other ones?”
“We’ll see!” and he went down first. Oh well, Superduper Guy consoled himself. At least it’s summer in New Zealand. If we can just make it through Antarctica.
“To the pole!” Batty Man cried, pointing forward after they hopped into the car, making Superduper Guy imagine he was sliding back up the pole behind him instead, back to the cozy fire and his interesting book. He’d just reached the chapter about flying squirrels when the “call” came in. Now he may never know how they pull it off. But he had his orders.
“Sure, whatever,” he answered the boss and started the mobile, letting it warm up a bit since the old thing was in desperate need of a tune up. And perhaps an engine overhaul. “Penguin this time I’m assuming!” he yell-guessed about the arch-villian they were dealing with over the roaring, sputtering engine.
“Maybe Penguin *and* Joker!” answered the boss. “They’re often in league with each other, being from the same New Jersey township!”
“So I’ve heard!” And with this they zoomed out of the Bat Cave and into the World of Man. Everyone within a 500 meter radius heard the noisy piece of junk leave. Like with any group of neighbors they’ve had down through the years, most were glad to see them go for a while. The arrogant pricks.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0109, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland
00420108
Long ago she took to wearing an eyepatch while in the public, well, *eye*. Covered up the blue one, you see. Gave her the name Redeye, soon shortened to Red. She was ruler of this land in a sort of iron fisted way. Creating an army, although the other half of her, the blue side, feared for her life because of it. It was time for her monthly meeting with the Redslandian Press, tell them about what’s going on in the empire. How’s hubby The Mann doing? Any new staff hires? That kind of thing.
When she got to the hiring of Marsha, she halted. How to phrase it? Certainly The Mann would see the broadcast, either live or, if later on because of other matters, taped (she couldn’t remember what he had on this morning). She decided to keep calling her Patricia because of this, although as we’ve seen, Marsha replaced Patricia when she assumed the secretary job. Patricia the St. Patrick girl was no more after this, and neither was Tania the Valentine person. All because of the deletion of the tree and all the ornaments, but *especially* that train one. Marsha has some power after that, some leverage. Just like Parasol. They stared into each other’s eyes and saw deception. Both knew about Biff Carter. Both kept this from The Mann.
Marsha was watching it live from her cubbyhole in the middle of the manor about 175 meters away and 20 meters up. A knock at the hidden room’s door, which meant a knock on the Secret Door Bookshelf blocking the only entrance. Who could *this* be? she said to herself while debating whether to make her presence known. But of course: they can hear the broadcast. Should’ve wore headphones, but she assumed everyone else in the building was watching the same. She’d have to answer.
“Who’s there?”
A pause. Then: “Biff. Biff Carter.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0108, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland
00420107 (allies?)
He wouldn’t reach out to him if it weren’t desperate times. “I need your help, Cpt. Americus, with these two loud mouth *goof* balls I’m currently house sitting for. The manor should be mine — *will* be mine. Are you in, wannabe superhero? Or are you out?”
“Let me finish this bucket of grey matter chicken and I’ll be able to decide,” he requests, and takes another bite. Slow chews. Sloooww.
There, he can feel it working again. His brain.
“Count me in,” he said as the last bit of gristle disappeared into his mouth, also the last of the magically produced chicken. Oh look. A whole new batch of pieces to consume when he looks down again. The Mann could be waiting a while. He’d forgotten about the bottomless bucket, an isolated superpower.
“Hold on, I suddenly forgot what we were talking about; remind me of the deal again?” he said as the munching and crunching began anew.
“Never mind Cpt.,” The Mann decided. “I’ll have to get back to you — another meeting, you see.” He didn’t plan to get back to him. This part of the search was to be closed up like an abandoned dangerous mine with its own bottomless pit.
—–
“Spaced Ghost,” he said to the next. “You’ve been with us since before the beginning, it seems. Surely *you* understand the power I desire. You can be there too. Sitting alongside me… and Parasol.” The Mann wasn’t quite sure how Spaced Ghost was young again, since his son Baker Bloch was nearing 67 years old now. Had to be 95-100. But here he is, shiny cape and shiny teeth and youthful physique. He didn’t question it, though. He was told he resided at the Shakespear’s Club in Centre County PA. Maybe the location was magical and gave him youth. He’d heard about such things associated with places named for The Bard. Like that ghost town near Lordsburg NM (revitalized in novel 39).
But when he teleported in to the proffered landmark, the only club he could find was the one slung over Young Spaced Ghost’s shoulder, as in a vintage Shakespear Gary Player Black Knight #2 Wood from the 1970s.
“I liked this place because they had a picture of me up on the wall there,” he started. “Don’t know when it was replaced by these collages or whatever they are.” He stared at one called “Doc’s Art”, wondering what it meant and the technique used.
“Yeah, sorry about that, Spaced Ghost. But about the deal…”
“Me and Zorak and Moltar — all 3 of us together. Boy I miss those days. Ghost Planet.” He sighs.
“So… about those nincompoops I’m dealing with,” directed The Mann again. “The Dynamic Du–”
“Regaltown: gone,” Spaced Ghost continued with the nostalgic lamenting. “Horns of Hatton: energy dissipated. We don’t have much left in Our Second Lyfe to cling on to. Might as well all pack up and head to the Red Dead Planet. Maybe we can make it into another Ghost Planet or something. We’ve already had several tries. I guess you’ve heard about them. Libra Neptune, the owner of the course I’m heading to after this. St. Dennis — son Scorpio Pluto told me all about it. Said they got there through a streetcar and he hadn’t heard back in a while. Said he’s ready to go over too once the portal’s stabilized; sell the golf course here and then recreate it over there in a better way.”
St. Dennis? The Mann thought. Portal? Suddenly he had more to mull over than revenge on some old, irritating neighbors. A whole new world was opening up.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0107, Corsica, Instabar^, Jeogeot, Midlands, New Mexico, Pennsylvania, RDR2
Parasol
“Every time I think about Level 02 and the testing that goes on there, my heart grows cold. Military cyborgs we’re developing there. Cold blooded killers.” She wondered again if Shelley’s old husband Arthur Kill (“Old Arthur”) was possibly part of these experiments.
“Let’s just get this visit over,” The Mann said back, concentrating on navigating the tricky staircase down to the basement of the manor, which will become The Mannor soon if he has his ways.
—–
“See?” he said at the cell’s door. “There’s the old hag of a witch. You’re *not* Mid-Hazel or Hazel Wood or whatever she calls herself these days. You’re different.”
“I just remember the–”
“You remember nothing. Dreams, I say. Dreams of a parallel existence perhaps, but… there she is and here you are. Separate but definitely not equal. You are good–”
“I have a red eye,” she quickly countered. “Some call me Red because of it.”
“AND… you have a blue one. Balance. You are not her,” he doubled down.
She decided now was a good time to test the sentence again. “How’s your *girl* today?”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0106, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland
00420105
They were preparing for battle, they were preparing for war. The Mann claimed to not be the same as Wayne Bruce who owned the manor but just an old neighbor doing a favor and house-sitting while he and and his “wonder boy” were away chasing arch-villians around the world, specifically Antarctica at the moment and possibly New Zealand. I checked back through the blog and saw that he indeed was a former neighbor over on the Corsica continent (Instabar sim). By the tone of his voice back then it didn’t seem he had much respect for the dynamic duo, this Batty Man and Superduper Guy. Old grudges tend to not alter that much over time.
March 03 2020: Batty Man and sidekick Superduper Guy arriving home in their noisy Battymobile while neighbor The Mann looks on disdainfully.
What else? Oh, the whole war/battle thing. Here’s some pics of the odd assortment of troops from a lower level of Redsland, closer to the ground for easier dispatchment when needed.
The conflict? Some call it the great Green-White War, others Green-Gray. No one knows exactly how or where or when it started but it extends over the entire known Universe by now in ever manifesting pockets here and there. Many are conscripted and don’t return home, either by death or by perpetual service. Martian Mabel’s big brother Little Big from photo-novel 02 was one of these. Mabel will never get over the loss, although she may put on a brave face nowadays. And here we come upon the legend of Plain Wayne, said to be killed in the war as well; slit in the throat by none other than our Wheeler back in her more evil days as directed by the powerful witch Mid-Hazel; event mentioned in photo-novel 03. Is Plain Wayne the same as mild mannered Wayne Bruce, alter ego for Batty Man? If so, why isn’t *he* dead? Mid-Hazel aka Hazel Wood would know if anyone. I’ll make a note to ask her later through some character or another; she now appears to be imprisoned somewhere in the innards of the manor with former formidable powers excised. More coincidence?
And here’s certainly another interesting twist. The Mann is actually Marsha “Pink” Krakow’s father as proven through the plot of photo-novel 19 where she’s 1st introduced. And now they interact again in the current photo-novel. Do either remember the other? Is The Mann, for example, so busy making sure the grounds are neat and tidy for Batty Man and partner Superduper Guy’s return that he doesn’t have time to recall who he really is? And it does indeed look super; Jack and Jill, however shady they are in other ways, are really skilled lawn care people.
And if The Mann is around that means Parasol his wife is too — I’d forgotten about that as well. His perfect Wo-mann, first rendezvousing with each other on the Fruity Islands back in photo-novel 12 and then properly tying the knot in photo-novel 24.
meeting in novel 12
marrying in novel 24
And here she is now, entering the manor room where The Mann is fingering through the first of Schubert’s 4 Impromptus in his own inept way, the only one he can play to any degree atall. He’d admit this ineptitude himself; would say Parasol is the true musician of the family. But then he might also thinks of drums — someone is talented with the sticks as well. Maybe he remembers Marsha during these moments, maybe it lies just beyond his consciousness still.
But Parasol certainly knows, also known as Red and, from the other side, Blue. She’s a bad speller and a wiz at the same in one.
“Where’s your *girl* today?” she tests once more.
“Girl *Friday*,” he responds defensively from the piano, inept fingering temporarily halted. “I hired her as a secretary; I have no interest in her otherwise.”
Still doesn’t remember, Parasol understands through this. She can keep her edge for now.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0105, Fruity Islands^^, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland
Eddy Valentine
Trapped on a desert isle with only 2 palms for company (slap slap).
But it’s not too bad. He’s been in worse situations.
—–
“Yeah, she’s a smacker,” says The Mann, explaining Red’s marks.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0104, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland
00420103
He invited her to play pool with him and she turned out to be a god damn shark. Never mind that, he said internally. I simply need a sounding board for my evil plans. From Neptune he was, he started the explanation after managing a satisfactory break, sinking his own 10, 14 and 15 but also her 2. The same as the Joker, he said about his hometown, the same as the Penguin also before him. But he was a new type of Waynesvillian. He had managed to trap the most powerful witch of all time named Hazel and incorporate her into himself. Hazel Wood.
“Funny name,” she said, sinking the 6, 4, and 5 in a row before barely missing the 1 with a tricky jump shot over his 11. They were playing 8 ball, his favorite. Until tonight.
“Not so funny if you’re face to face with the ancient hag. Down in the cellar she is. I took away her power, made it my own.” He produced a bit of electricity from his fingertips to demonstrate.
“Not so helpful with pool, it seems,” she then opined, watching him miss hitting the 12 in a corner pocket with those same hands. She surveyed the table and predicted a win in her next turn. She promptly sank the 3, 7, 1 and then 8 to accomplish this. “‘Nother one?” she asked about a follow up game while assuming a victory stance with the pool stick.
“Nah not right now. I want you to come back over to my desk. I want you to see something.”
“Alright. But no *funny* business.”
“Why Miss… Krakow isn’t it? Whatever do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” She’d felt him staring at her while they played.
“No no no, nothing like that. I want to show you the *book*.”
“Oh. Okay I guess.” The mowing became louder outside as Jack edged closer to the house with the John Deere, new shocks in place for a less bumpy ride. Jill’s electric hedge trimmer hummed just beyond the window. Both were hoping to get a glimpse of that book. This is the reason they came back at all after the dual absences.
—–
“Well?” he asked. “What do you think?” The mowing had stopped outside, the trimmer silent along with it.
What *did* she think?
“Biff Carter?” he prompted further. “Does *that* ring a bell?”
“Did you hear that,” whispered Jill excitedly over to Jack. “An actual name from the thing.”
“We have our lead,” he whispered in turn, and they left the scene before being spotted.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0103, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland
March 19 2024
Sent away for at least a month, Patricia went back to hoeing at the retreat where she was staying.
“Shoo Storkie. Trying to work.”
But then she saw a snake and was glad Storkie hung around. Gobbled it down quick he did, eager for more than just plant food ’round these here parts. Lots of plants for all the vegetarians like Patricia living at the Zen compound; little kosher meat for the rest like the carnivorous animals and birds.
She tries to calm herself after the event by meditating, with Waterbuffaloie looking on and sniffing the air for more possible snakes around, not to eat but just to avoid as well. He’s a herbivore like Patricia. They get along swell and sometimes even eat with each other in the cold winter months, huddling together for warmth. Rhesus the wacky monkey sometimes joins them. Sometimes Fred the rat. But never Gertrude, a snootier cow from one of the Massachusetts super-capes, perhaps Nantucket but also perhaps not. No eating with the common types for her.
Meditation complete and a sense of calmness returned, she watches Storkie roam the garden looking for additional meat. He’d had a taste and he wanted more. One little ribbon snake — not filling enough.
Ribbons, hmm. I think I know how to work Patricia back into the main story. Change of a dress coupled with a change of address. Get her off the farm and back in the city working for The Mann.
—-
“All I can offer you currently is a 2 week temporary slot,” he said, thinking about the weeds that needed hoeing and the grass that needed mowing around his stately manor. Jill the regular gardener had come down with Pill. And lawn care partner Jack fell off the John Deere while mowing that steep hill. If she could do the work of both he’d keep her on, paying her half of what he did Jack plus Jill. The Mann only sees the bottom line, the profit margin. Typical.
“Are there snakes?” she asked.
“Bunches.”
“Sold?” And she extended her hand for a snake to seal the deal which she then fed to Storkie who had come with her from the country. Many more out on the grounds, he knew. Many many more.
“Just give him a fortnight to clean up the place and I’ll return,” came Patricia’s last term, which The Mann, not well versed in Shakespeare and other classics, accepted thinking that fortnight meant one night. Two weeks later she returned but Jack and Jill were back on the job by then and she and Storkie had to retreat again to the compound. “Sorry Storkie,” she said, but Storkie was so full of food he was at a loss for words. Back at the farm he remained stuffed for a while and soon the garden there was also overrun with serpents. If only there was a saint who could take care of this problem for her. She checked the calendar. March 16. One night, she said to herself. One night. 2 weeks later, being a career Shakespearian actor use to adjusting such mistakes, he showed up but Patricia had returned to the city by then.
“Open up in there!” she blared at the Secret Door Bookshelf, our circle of text complete. “Ooh. Penn. Uuupp!”
—–
She sat down. She changed into who she really was, dumping the last of the green and Patricia along with it. The shiny locomotive with the golden front still poked out the side of the Xmas Winter tree on the screen before her. Her index finger wavered over the DELETE key. If the train went, then so did the whole tree. Tree minus train = 1/2 of what it was.
“Do it,” said Tania now behind her on the small sofa. “Finish me off. Do. It.”
PRESS. She was alone in the golden or yellow Room in the center of the manor or villa. Wayne’s villa. And she a legit Waynesvillian now. She recalled Batcorn.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0102, Jeogeot, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland, Teepot^^
Sunklands 