Category Archives: Estate

*up* the rabbit hole

It was the first time Adelaide (Alice 02) would meet with the head doctor over at Mosh on the Main Continent, as employees of Baumbeer Enterprises liked to call it. On the way up, Adelaide pauses to consider some maps on the wall. She recognizes her present “home” sim at the top. Or sims, since it looks like the hospital owns land in both Tethia and Orr around Lake Tethia. Interesting.

But where was she *now* on this lower map, hmm?

No time. She was summoned. There wasn’t a place to sit in front of the doctor. But — he’s a *rabbit*?

And a white one at that. Rings a bell.

Surprising Adelaide again, Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer then unfurls his life story for her, starting with his birth at Braynard’s Place (chronicled in the last Collagesity novel) and extending through Gene Autry Mortuary School, The Carter Center for the Study of Bodily Fluids, and then here. “Fluid,” he emphasizes while taking a steady sip of milk (he had hid his glass of beer under the desk upon Adelaide’s arrival). “It’s what took me from place to place to place. Up and up and up.”

Adelaide wondered when he would get to her psychiatric evaluation, but it never happened.

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Filed under *Second Life, Braynard's Place, New Eden, Pond District, Zindra

dance

Only minutes later, the dawning sun was shining on an observing Sidechick, still standing just beyond the crossing bridge.

Ahh, beach access.

Mystery crevasse?

The beach. *The* Beach? He then spots them just down the cliff.

A Rainbow Sphere (!). And the Golden Orb, ruler of all here.

Nothing else to do but…

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Filed under *Second Life, Braynard's Place

crossroads 02

There was no doubt that Sidechick Corea would have to tell Magus Ellen about *this*.

But which path to choose from the Centre tonight?

He decides on a direction (north) and sticks with it.

Spotted immediately he was after crossing the bridge — and welcomed by Braynard herself, up at the club watching the dancers from her corner.

So she was more than just a brain — she had a host body as well. Dare he join her and ask about The Rainbow Sphere this soon? Magus Ellen warned him about the possibility. Certainly not time to strike out on his own or deviate beyond the ordinary. Plus she had just admitted to the crowd that it was time for her to turn it in, eyelids getting heavy. Perhaps there would be another day, when both were fresh.


A sleepy Braynard…


… hits the hay.

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Filed under *Second Life, Braynard's Place

Happy visions

“I keep looking over at that tower, Buurb, and see Henry Winkler keep climbing up and down those ladders. *Henry Winkler*. Does he live in Heartsdale? I guess he has to, given that I keep seeing him over there. From ‘Happy Guys.’ You remember, don’t you? Fonzie Bear I think he was called. I wonder how he got *here*?”

“Sometimes he even looks over here and waves at me or something.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Heartsdale

like in urchin

“*There* you are, Gramps! I don’t know how I keep missing you.”

Space Ghost (“Gramps”) turns, takes a look at Buurb, and then faces forward again, rocking a bit faster. “You haven’t changed,” he spouts grumpily.

“I know. I think I’m going to give it another shot with Mabel. I’m not quite ready to end a steady marriage.”

“My boy Baker Black,” the elder Space Ghost grumbles, mispronouncing his son’s name, “said to wait here in this town until the boy turns back into a girl. Then and only then can I go home.” He glances at Buurb again. “And you’re not changing, hmph. So I’m not heading home yet.”

“Collagesity, you mean,” speaks Buurb, who again thought of Mabel’s invitation to join her there to live in *their* new house, she keeps putting it. She’s certainly not prepared to break the bonds from her end either.

“1 1/2 years I’ve been here, give or take a year or two. Do you know how long a year and a half is give or take that?”

“Well,” states Buurb, trying not make *too* much fun of the old man, “that could be a negative half year, meaning you haven’t even arrived in Heartsdale to begin with. You stayed in Collagesity, and, even on top of that, lost a half year there.”

Space Ghost shakes his head, not taking this in correctly. “Babble. That’s all you young folks do these day. Rambles and babbles. You might as well be little robots walking forwards and backwards and every which way — always getting in *my* way, phmph. Now, back in my days… (Buurb thinks: here we go) In *my* days…,” Space Ghost repeats, turning to face Buurb and even shaking his cane a bit at him, “boys and girls remained separate and pure. There *were* no mixed up boy-girls like you.”

Buurbs attempts to remain patient again. “Oh, I’m sure they were around, Pops. It’s just they didn’t tell you they were, um, mixed up. It wasn’t socially acceptable then. It’s a lot better these days with the interwebs and social media educating people about such things.”

Space Ghost wasn’t finished digging at him. “Then *why* did you marry Mabel?”

Buurb shrugs. “I changed over. I knew I didn’t love Precious Snowflake any longer when I began to love Mabel. My sex changed — before I was a woman, now I’m a man. It’s not *that* unusual Gramps. Out friend Turchin McGur–.”

“He’s not *my* friend,” Space Ghost cuts Buurb off. “*He’s* the one who took Mabel over there in the first place. You should be together here or you should be together there if you’re a couple. But not you here and her there, see. Figure it out. Who *are* you? *What* are you?”

“I’m Buurb,” the hobo-man declares firmly.

“You *were* Unch,” Space Ghost snaps back.

“Urch, you mean,” Buurb replies. He’d finally lost his cool. “And it’s Baker *Bloch*, not Black. You don’t even know your own son’s name, let alone the true state of the world.”

Buurb immediately regretted flying off the handle. Kindness, he thought. I have to be kind to the Grandpas. They don’t know what they’re talking about half the time. But also: so much shared wisdom between them. They will be missed, each and every one.

“How was John’s funeral?” he then thought to ask, changing the subject.

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Filed under *Second Life, Heartsdale

Queens Arms

“Well pardon *me*, I guess. Robots, hrmph.”

—–

“It’s tough losing your hair, isn’t it Grandpa 02?”

“I suppose, Grandpa 01. Oh. There’s Grandpa 03. Tapping at the window. We’re about ready to commence.”

“Shame about Grandpa 05 last week. Died on the john.”

“We still have Grandpas 04, 06, and 07. Along with us three.”

“The originals, he he. As of about 2 minutes ago.”

“Right. Another beer?”


Grandpa 07

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Filed under *Second Life, Heartsdale

name games

“Do you think you can manage to be happy today, Rabbit 02?”

“I’ll try Rabbit 01.”

“Rabbid… rabbid!” spoke the littlest, newist rabbit from his smaller seat at the table.”

“Aww, his first words! He turned rabbit into rabbid. How cute!”

“And so that shall be his name from here on,” decreed Rabbit 02. “Rabbid Rabbit.”

“Not Rabbit 03?” Rabbit 01 was puzzled. Rabbits always number their children.”

He looked toward the child, who was drooling on the upholstery. “We’ll talk about it later.”

—–

“I just want to repeat that it was so nice of you to come Alices. And your little boy — Francis isn’t it?”

“It’s Paris,” spoke Alice 02 bluntly. She was tired of all this name confusion. Rabbit 01 had prattled on for what seemed like hours. But it was only 20 minutes ago that the party started.”

“And he’s — don’t tell me — *10* years old.”

“*12*.” Alice 02 almost shouted the number. They had gone over all their ages about 3 times now, to her counting. “I’m 15, she spoke plainly and levely, like you would to a child. “Alice 01 over there — in the *blue* dress, and with *blonde* hair — is 9. And our son is 12. We just divided the difference and… there he is.” Alice 02 effected a smile across the table at Paris, who brightly returned it. He was use to the temperamental nature of his mother and didn’t take it personally any longer, thanks to the counseling of 2nd mother Alice 01.

“And how old is *your* son again?” started Alice 02 once more. “*5*?”

“1,” answered Rabbit 01 patiently, although she had answered the same question 2 times herself now. Not that she was counting. “1 day old.” She looked down and beamed at the tiny bunny beside her. “And he said his first words today! Didn’t you Rabbit 03?”

“*Rabbid*,” snorted Rabbit 01 harshly, then realized the social faux pas. “I mean, ahem, *yes*. He said his first words. And they were: *rabbid*.”

“Rabbit 03,” recited Alice 01, staring across the table at him sweetly, almost dreamily one could say. “What a cute name. I sometimes wished we’d numbered Paris.”

Alice 02 shot a stare toward Alice 01 with this, thinking: We *did* number Paris but you wanted a singular name. So we threw a dart at the world map and he became what he is. What kind of parents name their child after a French city? But Alice 01 said she had a niece who was so nice to her that use to name her children with that method. Moscow, Adelaide, and Brazilia they were called. Ridiculous. “If only the dart,” Alice 02 would say sometimes to Alice 01 — and she usually cried here a bit, then start again — “If only the dart would have hit Alice Springs, Australia all would be well in the world.”

—–

Later in the day only the, er, grownups remained. Paris was playing with Rabbit 03/Rabbid down at the beach, making sure he didn’t wade into the water over his head. But he failed in his mission a couple of times. He obviously didn’t tell his mothers this.

Then lo and behold the table they were sitting at disappeared before their very eyes. All looked around at each other, all automatically standing now. Only a teapot remained.

“Looks like the party’s over, Alices,” managed a rattled Rabbit 02. Thank God, Alice 02 rapidly thought.

—–

“And his name is *Rabbid*” he snarled at them just out of earshot as they walked away.

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Filed under *Second Life, Braynard's Place