“I had to get rid of the doll house, Mssr. Gold. We were getting too close to the truth.”
“That’s all right Mr. Platinum. I know where to find another one.”
—–
Across the room…
“Our view has changed. Our *castle* has changed, Norris.”
“I don’t like it. I don’t like it one *bite*.”
—–
In the other room (the *only* other room now that Murdock’s castle has shrunk)…
… Petunia begins manipulating documents so that the correct reality might return.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0314, Rose Heaven-
http://slnewser.blogspot.com/search/label/Scratchmusikatt%20Sprocket
“Steppiing out off that ridiiculouss tableauu noww my pointt iis maade…”
“I amm *heere* Rosehaveen. You cannot gett rid off me noww.”
“Sea Monsterrs! Twoo evenn.”
“Butt it iis snoow noww. I do nott liike snoow. I will return iin Maarch, yess.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0313, Rose Heaven-
“Hoomer. Hoooomer. It is I. Carrcassonne. Come to take you back. You come back, I come back.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0312, Rose Heaven-, Rubi
“Sure you don’t want next game, Grandpa?”
“No, Tessa, thank you.” Because he was looking for someone.
Within.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0311, Rose Heaven-
“Um hum. Hard to get the right consistency of oil, right.”
“Hello!”
Thrust!
“I’m a Pisces how about you?”
Just horsing around.
“Goodbye!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0310, The Waste+
“She said I had to help out you.”
“This witch woman. This… sorcerer.”
“But not in a bad way, I don’t think,” replies Duncan Avocado.
“But not in a totally good way either,” returns Sam Bee, catching the drift.
“Maybe not. Kind of neutral.”
Sam Bee stared at the fire. “Well, you know what I *really* want to do right now? To explore that gorgeous gorge of yours, where you were born here in this Paradise.”
“Reborn,” Duncan corrected.
“Right. I want to make a day of it. Perhaps several days. Show me what this is all about. You said a lot of work seemed to go into it. Mermaids and such. I’d like to see a Mermaid. I’d like to… well, she told me not to talk like that any more.” Sam crossed his legs.
“About girls… women.”
“Yeah.”
“Well…” Duncan exhales. “You *were* in a war. The ultimate madness and anything goes situation. You had to do what you did to get by.”
“No. I can’t accept that any longer, Duncan A. About the women.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t dwell on it,” his friend advised. They sat in silence for a bit.
“Freed up that damn Southern Bypass for a while, hehe. Almost had them by the *balls*.”
“Not soon enough… sorry.”
“For you, I know. We were working beyond the bamboo planes and cars and ships. We were almost there.”
“They had steel. They had energy.”
“We had the voodoo,” Sam countered. “The plants helped; almost worked. Southern Bypass.” He leaned forward. “I can cite one or, at best, two crucial moments in battles where things could have turned. On a dime, as the old saying says.
“Best not to dwell,” Duncan reiterated.
“I had this man’s head…” Sam stopped here. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t put a bamboo hatchet through a man’s head not 2 feet from his own. They told him to think of them like grapefruits… basketballs perhaps. He lay the hatchet down. He let the man pass. And immediately watched him kill one of his own.
“Come on,” Duncan says, getting up. “It’s afternoon now. You said you wanted to go swimming. Perhaps ride one of those killer sharks.”
“Whales,” Sam edited, making him think of Tessa.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0309, Fruity Islands
“Sometimes it’s not all about you Baker Bloch. Now put that on your head.”
“No.”
—–
“This is where you are. Be *here*.”
“I’m going to the Red Umbrella now, Ruby.”
—–
—–
“What are you looking for?”
“A way out.”
“You already know the way out. Way… Marr.”
—–
“Do you want to talk about the pain?”
“Failure. No connection. Blame the other.”
“Way, then. Not Marr.”
“Right.”
“Were you to blame? You were the weirdo, after all. Not the one grounded in physicality. Look at these novels, eh. No solid ground. Unless it is here — in Orange. Sorry, where are you now?”
“Let’s see. Looks like Pitaya. Just beyond Orange, though. NW corner.”
“I’m coming down.”
—–
“It’s just me and you now. Here.”
—–
“I’m dead. I know I’m dead.”
“Yes. You are dead.”
—–
“I think… I’m ready to live again.”
“Help out our mutual friend Sam Bee. Then we’ll talk.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0308, Fruity Islands
“2:01, Mabel. Who do you think will come through today?”
“We can only hope,” replied Tessa’s likewise observing Martian friend, bracing for the “norm”.
“Bloody fairy,” uttered Tessa disgustedly, spotting the wings first. “Put her across the tracks with the rest. I don’t even want to speak with this one.”
“Me neither,” echoed Mabel, still not over the incessant babbling of the impossibly exuberant Bubbles.
She points for the confused newcomer.
Joining her brethren.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0307, End of Time+, Texas
Ahh. Theere she iss, crossleggedd in the middlle of thee roadd. Just liike Bakker said shee would bee. At Bbb.
Affectt the locall languagge againn, Ruby Fantasie thought. “Are you alright child?”
The girl indicated the house on the other side of the road.
Ahhh, Sam *Bee*, she. And soo thiss must bee Tessaa (!) “Don’t you worry, child,” she then comforted. “I’ll handle the man.”
The girl nodded in understanding (she had witnessed the appearance of these tiny cars several times before; knew what they meant) and Ruby Fantasie continued down the road, already beginning to plot some lessons for her black magick practicing friend. She knew he saw her too.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0306, Middletown
“A what?”
“A rock star,” husband Monsieur Gold repeated to his wife April Mae. “I could tell it was me because I was driving the narrow boat-plane again.”
“Steve, you can take away these dishes now. We’re done.”
“Yes, mum.”
“Go on with your dream you had, dearest.”
“Well… I was also a cannibal. Ate human flesh. Involved a haunted hotel with a secret story room.”
“Storage room,” April Mae corrected.
“Yeah.”
“That’s interesting. Cannibal, eh? Like Claude. Down in Schism.”
“I suppose.” Why is Steve the Gardener serving us our food today? Monsieur Gold asked himself. *This* must be the dream. He decided to test it.
“What day is this?”
“Wednesday, dear. You know that.”
But it was Monday. And Steve the Gardener didn’t have a wooden hand yesterday.
“How was your trip to the cemetery? I forgot to ask you.” *Why* did I forget to ask her? he thought again. Was the cemetery even *real*?
“Fine. You’ll be glad to know the ex is still dead and in his grave. Won’t be resurrected anytime soon.”
“That’s good. Vampires are the worst.”
“I know. Try being married to one for 736 years.”
“Claude again.”
“Yeah.”
But Claude was a cannibal dog and not a cannibal human, so logically he could never be a vampire. Monsieur Gold grabbed a knife from cleaning Steve’s wooden hand and cut his own wrist, sawed at it even until his hand was severed from it and dropped to the floor in several, sickening beats. Yet there was no pain. Monsieur Gold then grasped Steve’s wooden hand, popped it off in one swift action, and then attached it to his own wrist, wriggling the fingers satisfactorily. April Mae acted surprised but not shocked. She looked at the now handless Steve. “He knows about us,” is what she came up with.
But Monsieur Gold never woke up, which was much more surprising. He lived with his new hand for the rest of his life. And he never saw Steve again after the gardener/manservant gathered up the other hand under the table and left the mansion in a huff.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0305, Purden/Snowlands
Sunklands 