Category Archives: 0017

December 29, 2019 · 8:32 am

gynoid

“So what do you think, Hucka Doobie?”

“I think you need to move your hands down a bit,” she joked, making Baker Bloch derez the silly thing he’s uselessly holding.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he replied while smiling. He also changed into his base avatar. Illegitimate son of the famous Space Ghost and, well, we only know his mother as Old Grey in the blog.

“Yes.” Hucka Doobie gets serious, looks at Baker’s new collage more closely. “This is about gynoids. Do you know what a gynoid is?”

“No,” Baker Bloch admitted. “Is it some sort of fruit or seed?”

“It’s a female robot, usually a pleasure bot.”

“Oh.” Baker Bloch turned and looked at the collage as well, at the glossy, red cheeked Anon mask looming in the sky. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Hucka Doobie answered, knowing what the male Baker was referring to. “This is you (!)”

“But also…”

“Yes,” Hucka Doobie replied quickly again. “This is Wheeler.”

“But…”

“You and Wheeler are married.”

“Um, nah that’s not correct Hucka. *Axis* and Wheeler are married.”

Hucka Doobie ignored this from Baker Bloch; began to study other parts of the collage. “What is Real, then?”

“Reality.” He waves his arms. “All around us.”

“*This*,” Hucka Doobie declared firmly, “is *not* reality.”

“It is to us,” Baker attempts to defend. Hucka Doobie wasn’t persuaded.

—–

“What about the other parts of the collage?” I continued. “The centipede I believe. Puerto Rico. Obviously this is about Rael. Lamb’s Rael.”

“What is Real?” Hucka Doobie repeated, and left it at that.

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December 28, 2019 · 8:33 am

Merry Hell

He loved listening to Bing’s Song on the music box. But “White Christmas” was over in Eot and he was melting. He’d have to go back to Kowloon to keep perpetually frosty. He didn’t understand quite why, except that he was *made* there, much like Guy Benjamin’s Grandmama and Grandpapa. He must get lost inside the maze, only to be found when the Heart Queen good and well wanted him to for her traitorous ways. Because she was back at it (some things never change). He could room with Satan Santa again. Safe bet that he’s not living with anyone still, being there’s a Hell Portal right smack in the middle of the kitchen ceiling.

He likes to use it to warm his tush while he’s cleaning the counter.

—–

“Sure you can stay with me again, Frosty.” He points to the corner furthest away from the kitchen. “Park your half melted carcass right over there behind the bathtub.”

—–

“Oh man,” he thought to himself. Stuck in this spot the rest of the winter. Unless the Heart Queen needs me. Sounds pretty good right now.

—-

“Pass the soap, wouldn’t you Frosty?”

“Sure thing, Satan, er, Santa.”

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December 27, 2019 · 11:03 am

Heart Queen

Some things never change.

—–

“Fish Head! Give us a report.”

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December 27, 2019 · 9:03 am

another guy

In human form, Guyd often visits his Grandmama and Grandpapa over in the Kowloon Gates Reborn sim. He’s never really grasped what the place was all about but always has fun exploring. Strange things abound…

The plaza where he first met Grandmama and Grandpapa, with the attached parcel called Assoc. for the Elderly appropriately enough.

The newest structure in the odd town is the Building of 100 Stories. More of its *story* at Pearl Grey’s blog.

Guy Benjamin (human form name of Guyd) will explore all 100 stories soon. But now he has to visit Grandmamapapa. Trouble is, as always: finding their apartment in this maze. He feels a bit like Agent Dale Cooper in the Black Lodge navigating Kowloon’s twisty-turny alleys. Where’s the appropriate Venus statue for orientation when you need it!

It would help if he spoke the native language(s).

And there’s also *so* many distractions.

He gives up for the night. He visits them often but sees them seldom.

—–

“Sure wish Guy would come around more, Alice.”

“You know he doesn’t love us, Jack.”

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December 26, 2019 · 9:20 am

further 02

Rebl listened intently for news about the bombing. She kept the antique radio low. Just in case.

“Been 2 hours,” Guyd put forth in a purr. “I don’t think anything’s going to happen.”

“Just wait my friend. Be patient.” Guyd knew the bush was rarely wrong, but also Rebl stated that the bush was growing older. One day it will not be with us as ultimate guide. That day may be sooner than expected, she said.

“New York–” the radio sputtered. “New — ork has been…” The radio went dead.

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December 26, 2019 · 8:28 am

further

“After you dearest.”

“No I insist. After *you*.”

—–

Rebl paused in her drinking. “Someone has entered.”

“Aberrant?” the drink-less Guyd asked. They’d been expecting this.

“Could be.” She takes another sip of the hot liquid. At any rate, she knew their hidden room would be safe.

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December 25, 2019 · 12:29 pm

“End of Real”

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December 24, 2019 · 10:04 am

no wee 02

“He said that this land was my land but it was also *his* land, Fran. Wonder what that means?”

Young, naive Fran couldn’t stop tittering at the, to her, funny sight. “He’s got (*snicker*), no face — no *skin*.”

“Hellooo!” it spoke again cartoonishly. “I’m a [delete phrase].”

“Whoa, whoa,” Jer Left Horn called to him from the chair while holding out his hands in protest. “No need for that kind of language ’round here, Norris. You *did* say that was your name. Didn’t you — Norris?”

“Mo Flo Joe No.”

Fran kept tittering. “I think he means — *no* (giggle).”

“Wellll… *what*, then?”

A very faint “Jerry” then popped out of his hot pink mouth. Then: “Harry,” almost as faint. Then, rapidly in succession, just a little louder even, “Harry, Jerry.” Then louder, more assertive: “Jerry. Harry.” Then loudest of all by far. “JERRRRY. HARRRRRY!”

“Okay,” calms Jer Left Horn, hands out again. JERRRRY and especially HARRRRRY were still echoing around the hills surrounding them. “You’re Jerry. You’re Harry.”

“He’s Jerry,” states Fran mundanely, patting his red hair and staring at his face. “He’s Harrry.” She tweaks his cheeks here. Jer Left Horn thinks he winces a little with this, the first facial expression beyond “blank” he’s seen.

“Hey,” he requests to Fran. “I think you hurt him there a bit. That (he comes over to look better) skin might be sensitive.” He points. “Yeah, see there? You’ve left red marks.”

Fran covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh. Oh dear. They’re *bleeding* or something. I’m *so* sorry.” She runs inside to get some tissues from her purse, water dripping from her face.

His face changes…

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December 24, 2019 · 8:17 am

no wee

“I think we’ve got everything we need, Merry. Rope, tent, flashlights. It’s all there. The general store here set us up real good with all these freebies.” He finally looks over; pays attention. “Oh my, you’ve changed again.”

“Yeah, the skin is gone. Been gone for about 30 minutes,” *Breeze* replies. “You’ve been calling me the wrong name for a while.”

Axis goes over to her, holds her. “I’m sorry.” They lock hands. “I promise to pay more attention.”

“It’s okay.” She leans in for a kiss.

—–

“I see it in the enlarged fire, Rules of Rose. Merry Gouldbusk is succumbing (!). We must do something to alter the mix.”

“Do something,” Rules of Rose echoed, also staring. “But — what?”

Ruby Fantasie looked to her right. “Norris. Norris could help. Put him back in that tree.”

“If you in-*sist*,” spoke the elven fairy, readying her powers of teleportation once more. This was her plan all along, though.

“He already knows his lines. Just send him. Break a limb!” she called over for encouragement as he vanished from the scene.

—–

“Hell-oo! Hellllooo!”

Jer Left Horn spots the source of the call up in his beloved tree. He stands. “Who are you?’

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December 23, 2019 · 10:26 am

still exploring

“’69,” Jer Left Horn pronounced, reading the year address above the door to the hitherto unvisited castle.

“And then the suggestion to set your draw distance to 96.

“Sounds like my kind of place.” He sets his draw distance to 96 meters and opens the door….

It was his kind of place.

He finds his way to the bar upstairs. He starts trying to dig up more information about the caves, about End of Time itself. Big Ass Franz the bartender was compliant enough. Jer Left Horn has found that about everyone directly associated with the estate is pretty friendly and open. Good qualities to work with in an investigation. Or pleasantries attached to such a task. Cloe Price is the prime exception so far. Fran — tough exterior but eventually caved. He left her back in his cabin to make this night trek. He’d spotted the castle door at the canal the day before and earmarked it for a visit.

“Cats?” returned Franz, knowing Jer Left Horn was getting into deeper territory; unknown passages.

“Yeah, I’ve heard…”

“That they’re part human? Some of them anyway.”

“Yeeaahh,” Jer Left Horn said back, getting more information off the top than he expected. “That tooo.”

Franz looked around the establishment, at the pictures. “You can’t have them. That’s forbidden fruit.”

“Say’s who?” Jer Left Horn hated for people to tell him what he could and couldn’t do. Being royalty all your life will turn you into that.

“Say’s *them*.”

Jer Left Horn turns slightly on his barrel seat, hiding his horn a bit more from Franz. He strokes his chin wisely. He looks at the pictures too. He’s now more determined than ever to meet one of these cat-people. “Do you *know* any of ’em?” he decides to ask.

Franz wipes down the bar, as if distracted. “Just one,” he managed.

“Welll? What’s her name?” Jer Left Horn didn’t have to ask the sex. He could tell from the bartender’s actions that he loved this creature a bit.

“Rebl,” came the answer. After saying her name, Big Ass Franz excused himself and went in back to have a little sob.

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