Category Archives: 0012

February 18, 2019 · 9:01 am

“You don’t have to bear that weight alone.”

—–

“Top of the line, my Queen.”

“Princess please. I haven’t been confirmed yet.”

“So sorry. My Princess.” He looks toward the doll house again. “Just rolled out last month. 11 rooms for this baby.” He was counting the 3 bathrooms and the crawl space but didn’t mention this fact. Always the pitch person.

“Sandy. May I call you Sandy?”

“Of course my highness.”

“Sandy. If you don’t mind me saying, you have quite a reputation following you around. I read the reviews online. It seems…”

“Say no more. I’ll pack up my wares and move on. I am greatly humbled by even your interest in our fine products.”

“No, I wasn’t implying that I’m not interested. I am.” She winked one red eye at Sandy, who understood what he had to do — once again — to make a sale. So golden and glinty this one is. Better make sure the lights are dimmed way down.

—–

Afterwards he had one of those strange 1/2 doll house 1/2 real house dreams where the sprinkler system went off by accident.

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February 17, 2019 · 8:54 am

Side

“This is *not* the centre of Rosehaven, dear sister.”

“Sshhh,” she implored in a lower tone. “Keep it down. They could be out there… watching.”

“They *who*?”

“Father’s people. Maybe even mother’s.” But she said these almost as questions.

“Both are dead. Both are gone. We must move on. Mother only lived on through the father. We must be in the now and present. Meditate with me, sister. Learn my wise ways. You won’t be so anxious.” His voice was slightly muffled and watery; hers clear and metallic.

“You shouldn’t be so talkative if you’re so relaxed,” she shoots back, then peers through the window again.

“The cave should have been the meeting point. I told you to meet me at the cave. You’d feel safer there. But no, it had to be the peasant’s village. Father’s old hideaway where he went to woo his wenches. Maybe that’s why we’re so different. Two different mothers. Maybe even two different fathers.”

“You *know* why we’re different.” She didn’t have to finish the rest. Both knew that Merry Gouldbusk physically took after the father and he after the mother. But inside, roles were reversed. For the boy (Ingo) was in danger of becoming as cold as the father given time. For the girl: only melancholy futures.

Merry Gouldbusk stared at the sphere encapsulated face of her brother. “Do you ever remove that thing?”

“Not even to eat,” he replied quickly. “I… get insights. I want to share some of them with you. About the dividing.”

“All ears,” she said, folding her ears toward him with her golden fingers. It was an old game they played. Ingo still smiled at this, which was comforting.

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February 17, 2019 · 1:52 am

Centre

“I’ve been waiting here for the longest time, Baker Bloch. But I’m glad you finally found me. In Middletown, US of A.”

“Gus is burning brightly indeed,” Baker deflected.

“I know all about fire,” P.I. Keat Owens dismissed.

“Oh… yeah.” Baker remembered that Owens was killed before his subsequent resurrection by being burned to death.”

“How is David Bowie anyway? Still hanging around Collagesity?”

“Er, that wasn’t really David…”

“Newton Jerome, wasn’t it? Jerome Newton? Yeah, the latter.”

“Well…”

“I was so close to the truth. Spongebub Triangleslacks almost spilled the whole ball of wax.”

“That was Square…”

“Askja? Yeah, Askja. Winfield, but with an extra ‘n’. And then Wheeler with the 8 ball she could hit clean across the Rubi Woods like a Tiger. It was all adding up to something. Then… the fire.”

“But you were resurrected,” Baker Bloch attempted to justify. “In VHC City. Actually in Mabel’s dreams before…”

“The VWX Society, yes,” Keat Owens then remembered. “X-ed out but still present.”

“Can I show you the annex now?” Baker knew the night was early but there was much to do still. Deadlines loomed. Reality beckoned. Beyond Our Second Lyfe.

Baker copied Keat Owens and several other objects from Axis’ High Castle before leaving. He found the portal dial at the door was non-copyable, however. He’d either have to take it with him or use it as a prop in the blog post now. He chose the latter path.

“Let’s set it on Rosehaven and see what happens,” he said to no one in particular. “I can always come back here and visit the other locations — Fruity Islands, The Waste, End of Time. But Rosehaven is the important one currently.”


Switch.

Baker Bloch opens the door.

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February 16, 2019 · 8:51 am

Middle

“Ahh. Justt liike Bakker Bee saidd. Here att *Cee*. Four headds as one. Sam Bee, Duncan Aaa, Parasoll, and, lett’s see, Charrlie?” Ruby Fanatsie considered again. “Banana Boyy, yess. And *I* inn the middle againn. The *centree*”.

Ruby walks further; passes the left pair of walkers and enters the circle proper. C. Right pair of walkers straight ahead.

Ruby Fantasie pauses at the right pair, then looks around, stupefied. “I have entered a collagewold! And I am talking local again. Baker B. must be nearby. Very nearby. But this is Sam Bee true enough. Basketball. Orange and basketball as one. Orange Peel.”

Ruby turned around. “Geez, Baker Bloch. You scared me! I am almost on top of you!” But Baker, I, couldn’t answer as this was collagewold and not the real wold.

Still, through the density, I was able to eek out a weak “saucer”. Ruby stared ahead down the road with this. The Pineapple Highway Road.

The spectre of Private Investigator Keat Owens didn’t phase her a bit as she continued.

(to be continued)

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February 16, 2019 · 7:52 am

fruit loop adventure

He could feel her hot, putrid breath against his neck. Death, Angel of. Head like a grapefruit. Or a basketball.

“Come on, Sam Bee. Time to take the plunge. She’ll be waiting here for us when it’s over.”

“You don’t know,” he hissed, gazes still locked. “You weren’t there, Duncan.”

“I was there,” Duncan reassured his friend. His war vet friend.

“We — almost — had them — by the BALLS.”

—–

Parasol woke up, looked over at Charlie sitting heavily on the couch beside her. “You’ve changed.”

“Something’s happening,” he agreed.

Someone was about to enter the circle.

—–

Parasol woke up again, Charlie still beside her.

“Duncan A. and Sam B. are about to enter the gorgeous gorge. I saw it in my dream.”

“Then I guess you’re gonna split, huh?”

“Not till Sundae.”

—–

Parasol woke up.

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February 15, 2019 · 10:31 am

Burnt Too

It was almost dark when she reached the service station in the opposite corner of the Burnt Oak sim from her. Now the *only * service station in the area. Look at these two, Sally Spark O Naut thought. People must be desperate for gas. Knowing (the other) Sally like I do, she’s dispensing it in ways to cause the most pain for everyone around. In turn: poor, desperate Sally.

She goes around the front of the building.

“Sally? It’s me. Sally. You here?”

Hmph. Cleaned out as well.

Only the meat remains.

 

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February 15, 2019 · 9:51 am

Burnt

50 days, thought Sally the Spark O Naut (Sparky) at the old Tiler’s Church in North Yd. Time to finally give up on the Reverend and head home.

But upon reaching the plateau above the decrepit town, Sparky found her service station had disappeared in the meantime, along with perpetually wind blown Raphaelia and her orange cat. Only the wind left.

She’d have to ask the other Sally on the opposite side of the Death Bowl for information. Aka: Lying Widow.

It was the only logical thing to do.

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February 14, 2019 · 6:58 am

“They can see everything we do in our bedroom!”

It was not an *incredibly* bad looking house from the outside, April Mae Flowers thought while standing in the snow. But the insides were all wonky: crazily placed stairs, doors that won’t shut, and, perhaps most irritating of all, the transparent on transparent wall overlaps, which made parts of the house practically see-through when viewed from certain angles. She had told her newly wedded husband at the time that the Princess (who was in charge of such things then) rejected it after giving the matter serious consideration, citing some of these same issues plus tacking on a couple of her own — lighting; bedrooms that aren’t linked to the interior; plumbing. 300 linden dollars a month was all it was back then for a nice parcel, perhaps a 1024 like this, albeit without the double prims. But Herbert insisted that his “mansion” go along with the deal. It is understandable in that this was the place he helped raise Lisa and Bartholomew with his first two wives, Marg and then Madame Silver. What disastrous marriages! As bad as her own to retro-guy Septimius Felton, now 3 1/2 years dead in his grave. Marg as well — going on 9. Only Madame Silver remains among their exes, and apparently she’s gone bat-ass crazy over on the Omega continent, vowing to destroy Lisa and keeping brother Bart in limbo. She tries to avoid her part of the continent when visiting Septimius’ grave over there. Which reminds her… she needs to ask Mssr. Gold for the narrow boat-plane again tomorrow. She dreads the moment.


transparent on transparent

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February 13, 2019 · 8:25 am

church (Eotia Village)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sherwood_Anderson

Four[5] or five[6] years were spent in Caledonia, years which formed Anderson’s earliest memories. This period later inspired his semi-autobiographical novel Tar: A Midwest Childhood (1926).[7] In Caledonia Anderson’s father began drinking excessively, which led to financial difficulties, eventually causing the family to leave the town.[7]

“That’s an interesting story, Zoidboro. But I thought it was Caledon.”

Again with the smarts, Zoidboro ponders. What was it now, 8 1/2 months? 8 3/4ths? Better get to the caves asap. “Cale*don*ia,” he emphasizes to his pregnant male friend. “It would be Caledon if told from their perspective, but this is through the eyes of Rosehaven. The Princess ruler, to be specific. Soon to be Queen now that the father is dead. And the mother remains in her grave.”

“So…,” Patrick Starr tries to reason, “… Caledon, I mean, *Rosehaven* is way over here.” He moves his right hand far to the right. “And The Waste, *our* home, is way over here.” The left hand goes more left.

“But brought together by the Oracle,” states Zoidboro, shifting slightly on the bed to peer at the strangely colored 8 ball in the middle of the table to one side. “Tiger,” he completes, noting the residual “stripes”.

“I suppose.” Patrick retracts both hands, sits up, and holds his bloated stomach. “Oh, I felt a kick!”

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February 13, 2019 · 7:42 am

Hinterland

“The animations in this town blow, Philip.”

“I know Philip.”

“Better wake up Marion. I’m ready to blow this town.”

“Me too.”

“Marion,” the non-bearded Philip begins to call. “Oh Mar-ion,” he sings softly. “Come out come out wherever you’re at.”

“Twinkle, twinkle,” jokes the bearded Philip.

Insert transmutation sound…

“50,000 linden dollars,” Marion Star Harding begins. “For all the mysteries of Caledonia unlocked. Will save you 5 years worth of research.”

A pause. “What about the girl?” Philip inquires.

“You can throw her in too. The shapeshifter.”

“But that’s *you*.”

They wait. Another transmutation doesn’t take place.

“She must be upstairs,” offers Philip.

“Yes,” Marion quickly agrees. “Since neither one of us are her. Upstairs, yes. On the bed. With *1* animation.”

—–

Heidi Hunt Ives stayed motionless tossed and turned all night. It was those darn boat horns. “Look out, look out!” they repeatedly cried. “I’m over here! Watch it! Can you see me! If you can’t here’s another blare from my horn, blow blow!”

It doesn’t always have to be fog in the harbor.

Better get up, though, and talk to the partners in crime, she grumbled inwardly while trying to fully rouse herself. Moving day, she guessed.

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