Category Archives: 0024

southward

Elvis Kannelvis’ small, pine dominated Linden forest, shaped like an arrow, points directly to the center of X-City: the famed crossroads of Maebaleia/Satoris and the symbolic heart of the continent as a whole. As the heart goes so does the land, but right now we’re dealing more with a spade (upside down/oppositely colored heart) situation. A Menace has taken over. Where will Elvis go now? Will he simply remain in this wood forever and ever, finding out more and more information about The Line through nightly dreams?

He’s seen Randolph the Bastard Pirate and Wendy Wheeler Wilson rendezvous almost daily at the Kingpost pirate bar. He knows what goes on there; that was the beginning, what set it all in motion. The Line begins. Then we have Aunt Ginger on the complete opposite side of the 28 sim long phenomenon with the Intrepide tinies, herself being miniature as well most likely. Tealy and Tillie are on their way over there as I type, attempting to figure out the where/who/why of the vast explosion they saw the smoke billowing up from the other day from their home on the shores of Rubisea (also on The Line). Red being Devil Dave is in the mix too but I’m not sure how.

And then there’s Tessa.


“Steady as she goes, Fisher/Philip Strevor/Devil Dave!”

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2021-2020 WINTER”!

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00240702

The pageantry of Elvis Kannelvis’ hole jump brought out a number of the local dare-demon wannabe’s, like Ricky Pageant and his even more dare-devilly and showboating skating partner, er, Millgate (partially hidden by street lamp here).

Ricky is the step-brother of Annaliza Pageant who we’ve met in photo-novel 14 as the Intake Manager of Sinkology U. just down the street. No relationship to the pageantry of the current event that we know of.

All sorts of tourists showed up, only mildly disappointed when Elvis Kannelvis pulled a no show and Blue Berry Girl had to fill in for him. “Elvis who?” many said, unaware of his moderate fame up until this point in his dare-demon career. “Lizard what?” they might add on, not hearing of his main claim to moderate fame: the Lizard Gulch Jump of ’86 which resulted in only 2 spectator deaths, despite the prognostications. If only there would have been more, Elvis Kannelvis often lamented in secret.

Some people were confused about the nature of his newest dare-demon event. Was he going to *jump* the hole, as in jump over it, or jump *into* it. And, if so, what was the point of it all? What did he expect to accomplish in either case? The width of the hole didn’t seem that impressive, but there were all those jagged little peaks around it that could prove a hazard and got some mouths salivating for blood. But what about the depth — where did the hole lead? Was it bottomless? some speculated. Was there a hot breakfast and a golden staircase waiting for Elvis when he reached the bottom? Crazy stuff like that, fueled by the excessive sugar intake no doubt. Hank’s Urban Ice Cream Parlor was running a 2 fer 1 scoop deal throughout the whole of it. He knew it would pay off for him big time in the end, whatever the results of the event.

—–

“There’s *my* little dare-demon. Smile you demon!”

“Oh stop it Ray.” (*blush*)

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liquids

The day of the Great Jump had come and gone, and Elvis Kannelvis hadn’t participated. Instead he stayed in the small Linden Wood, learning more about The Line with each passing night. No one knew where he was — the woods had a way of hiding people like that as well. The hole was not made to be jumped into; it was a mere pointer to the Guy who owned it, who then pointed him back to The Line. Blue Berry Girl took his place in the event. Blue Berry Girl never had a chance, her round, juice filled body pierced by the jagged sides of the hole less than halfway down, with a pool of blue-violet at the bottom marking her failed effort. Not Linden water, because that would be a little further down still and the hole didn’t penetrate that far. Unlike the former Ulyanovsk Oblast hole strangely (yet again!) equidistant from the central crossroads of X-City as this Gangkhar Hole. This was false water, false liquid. Not Linden. Not Guy. Guy had pointed elsewhere.

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Line of Linden’s

He was back in the small Linden woods just across the road from the Active Urban Mall, in turn just north of the Urban ice cream parlor — again, no relation that I know of. Point is, he was as far away from the sweets and especially that cursed strawberry-pineapple swirl as possible while still remaining active. Because he had to to fit into the hole, the whole “fit to fit” thing he’d come up with as a slogan, with posters all over the heart of town now. He’d soon be a true, local hero; he *was* a hero. Thanks to him rescuing those rabbit people over in Kitaro from the fires. But he felt he had an obligation to do that. He was, after all, partially responsible for the bomb destroying their quaint village. It should have hit the ice cream parlor! Oh well, The Line dictates where things hit and don’t hit. Take Kingpost: spared during the Great Civil War between northern and southern Maebaleia/Satori, yet conjoined and resonantly named King’s Stone and Druid’s Post a number of sims to the east were bombed almost back to stone; I’ll try to make a post about that horrible event which created confusingly named Lake Kingpost soon.

The woods were chilly tonight, not like the warm, vanilla colored couch of the ice cream parlor where he could lay his still quite pudgy, off-white garbed self like a baby in a manger. This was roughing it in comparison. No sweets, though — that’s the point. He puts his arms around his torso and shivers, eagerly waiting for the coming of sweet golden dawn.

—–

Elvis Kannelvis woke up. His head had been cleared of the remaining effects of the sweets. Cursed strawberry-pineapple! He realized The Line, amplified by the Linden trees around him — just enough to cause the effect — had made him dream strange things, like the burning of Strange Isle, like the bombing of Kitaro when actually Kingpost in the opposite direction was hit — or was it Kings Stone + Druid’s Post? Yes, the latter (two). That’s the explosion Tealy and Tillie saw that day in early May before their visit to Aunt Ginger in an attempt to right things on The Line. Tealy and Tillie were on The Line; Elvis Kannelvis, especially while in the sweets shop, was on The Line; sweet Wendy Wilson dressed in two different dresses soon to be one was on The Line over at her pirate outpost bar in Kingpost. And then finally Aunt Ginger to the far east, as east as you can go on The Line as Kingpost is to the west (and King’s Stone and Druid’s Post kind of more to the middle). Blue Bear Y and Wanda the Lower Minoan seem to be heading to her camp as well. To get a piece of Ginger, although the two visitors to her island are bickering about the decision. Was Wendy actually named Wanda and a secret miniature? That’s only one mystery awaiting us in Section 07.

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odessey and oracle

—–

It’s not about The Zombies. It’s the lighting, phew!

“Now let’s get out of here,” she said to herself, detaching the machete and the basket for the cut off heads before returning to The Line after adjusting her environment appropriately. Lightening up! Now all she had to do was find the Valentine twins and choose between the two: Natha Neil or Nata Lee?

—–

“Tealy?”

“Yes, Tillie?” They had almost weeded out all the infected plants from the garden. 3 days of toil and anguish. But no way could they eat most of this stuff. Giganticism!

“How would you like to… visit Aunt Ginger for Valentine’s Day?”

Must have been all the thoughts about the size of things that made her want to do this, Tealy rationalized. But she had other reasons.

—–

She affected the local speech. “Arrr. There be Randolph the Bastard Pirate and his three cornered hat.” She pushed the plate full of apples, oranges, bananas closer to him as he approached. “Ready to see which way the fruit swings?”

He sat down. He was ready.

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00240615

An offshoot fireball of the explosion hit Strange Isle, destroying it in the night as the hamlet’s lone inhabitant looks on helpless.

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golden one

“It could have happened in King Post at Wendy’s new place, although that would be quite a long way off. Or maybe King’s Stone, since the name location is closer. Or (its neighbor) Druid’s Post I suppose. Hucka?”

Cackling from the witches. Baker had forgotten Hucka Doobie went to the White Palace in the skies about, I don’t know, over a single photo-novel’s length ago by now I would guess without checking. “Come with us, Baker B.,” they beckoned. “Come with us to our photo shoot. Kita!” He didn’t have much choice. That would set him back several more hours in his search for the origin of the explosion, but, as a bonus, they indicated the precise location when finished. Not Kita: Kitaro. So close to the Urban Ice Cream Parlor — just missed. Elvis Kannelvis’ coordinates were just a little off. He did better with sports in school than maths. Plus he had indicated the wrong McMillan: there were several in the area as it turned out, although all unrelated to each other. Just like the Urbans. A strange place.

Speaking of which…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0614, Continent's Edge, Gno Kingdom^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Nascera^^, X-City^

over the hills

“Sure is a perfect day, Tillie.”

“As usual, Tealy.” BOOOOOOOMMMM.

“What was *that*?” he exclaimed to his 4 colored partner.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0613, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Rubisea

TILE VILE

“Arrr. *There* be my three cornered hat. Thank yee for keeping it for me, Saucy Wanda.”

“Wendy,” she replied, use to the bastard pirates getting her name wrong. Especially this bastard pirate. Randolph was his name and magic squares were his game. Especially Jupiter’s right now. He be melancholy lately. Not just because he lost his hat — that was only several hours ago. This be days ago. The tinies on the exact opposite side of the Maebaleia/Satori continent took something from him, but something of much greater value (and he truly loved his hat). Not exactly his pride, although that factored in too.

—–

Elvis Kannelvis was back to training again. He wish someone would just blow up the Urban ice cream parlor over there across the sim line. 15 lbs.! He’d never fit in the hole at this rate. He’d have to cancel the event, lose all that potential money. No… NOT tonight. Back to the woods across the road from the *Active* Urban Mall. And why all those Urbans again in this one small space, he pondered while trying to run even faster at the first whiff of pineapple strawberry.

—–

“Here,” he said while bending over and starting to sort out the gold glass shards. Or was that blue. Red? “Maybe we can put it back together.”

Green now. “No way!” cried Tiny Wanda in her miniature voice to Blue Bear Y. Ginger would, of course, know the difference, despite the giant gummy beast’s fame with fusion energy. They couldn’t put the *colors* back together.

Gold again. Blue.

Red.

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Wonky like Willa

‘Hey Hank. (pause). Can I crash in here again?”

(longer pause) “No.” Plain and blunt. He can’t crash in here again. Bad for the customers, Hank feels. Friday night: he stays open until 3 at the morning. He says this aloud.

“But… I’m Elvis Kannelvis. World famous dare-demon. I’d be a novelty item. Promote me, promote my jump into that gall darn hole the comet or whatever made.”

“No comet.” Hank was sure it wasn’t a comet.

“I’d sleep and people would come to marvel and perhaps lay coins on my eyes to pay for my passage to Valhalla.” He closes his eyes, imagining the tribute. For Elvis Kannelvis would surely die when he jumps, everyone will say.

“You will not die.” Hank: succinct again. He knew Elvis Kannelvis would not die jumping in the hole. He knew something else that most people didn’t. The hole has a certain depth, a certain width. He would not go far into it… unless…

“Unless…” he says out loud. He looks over at Elvis Kannelvis starting to stretch his pudgy, off-white garbed body across the vanilla white couch, like he’s settling in for the night, which Hank said he couldn’t. His eyes are still closed.

“Go ahead,” urged Elvis. “Say it.” He waits for the coins.

—–

He’d been running past the Urban Ice Cream parlor for several days on his route around the Active Urban Mall. Urban again, he thought the first day. But not attached to Active. What gives? But he kept going, not tempted by the ice cream this time. He had to get fit to fit into the hole. Valhalla awaits! But not the way most people think. He had a cunning plan.

The second day he slowed down a bit while passing, but still didn’t stop. The third: temptation finally got the best of the sweets loving dare-demon, most famous for jumping Lizard Gulch out in the Oregon back country. Before now.

What a break! The door unlocked, the owner away. “5 o’clock,” he says, checking his watch and the width and depth of his procured bowl and spoon. Must have left early, he ascertains wrongly.

High on illegally gorged sugar he lay down on the same vanilla colored couch he does now, awaiting the coins, the adulation, the *worshipping*. For Elvis had designs on being some kind of God, a medium major or perhaps a high major one. Up there with Mahatma Gandhi and Albert Einstein to be sure. Trouble is, he’d gained back all the calories in his three hours of gorging from the three days of exercise before. And now Hank, who discovered him still conked out the next day when opening up, says he can’t stay another night, despite the promise of a big payment later after the event is over. He has no way to lock up the ice cream. But now he seems to have changed his mind. “Yes,” he says to the prostrate wannabe super-hero, buttons almost popping from stomach heaves. “You can stay.”

He has a certain special ice cream he’s tucked away back in the freezer for this very kind of moment.

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