Category Archives: Estate

golden lies

“Hmmph. Boxes.”

—–

“You have to pay attention to everything around you. But it all must reference back to The Diagonal somehow.” He stared at Golden Jim in front of him, standing on said line just like himself. “How does it feel?”

“No different than anywhere else,” confessed his current boarder, a fellow shapeshifter like Angus (Sid Viscous — present in the scene), and his daughters Indigo (Vanille Mills) and, now — as of the end of the last Collagesity novel — Ragdoll (Shirley Boot). Just passing through, he said. But Angus/Sid knew differently. “No different than back in the trailer, for example.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” encouraged Sid, knowing the strange yellow dude was lying. He turned to his right. “Now let’s go see what we have with Ms. Snowwhite Well.”

“Ah ha!”

“See? This image has recently been seen in The Bakers’ blog as an element of Fisher’s dream nightmare over in Braynard’s Place.” Sid quotes the ending line here: “‘Whom Bee Thee?’ See how *well* this works, Golden?”

“I’ll have to check when we get back to Collagesity.” But Golden Jim knows how The Diagonal functions, and, indeed, it works very very well.

“Time to go on some tangents. Hope you brought your walking shoes.”

Golden Jim looks down. “I must confess that I did not.” But that was also a lie.

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Filed under *Second Life, Braynard's Place, Heterocera, Iris

Wonderland

Fisher was having one of those dreams where all he could do was sit in a particular spot and look around.

Wonders.

A man with a red cross on his chess beckoned him down off his perch to play chest, insisting he take white.

“Black goes first,” he said after Fisher is seated, promptly sliding a pawn to King 4. Fisher found he was frozen again, unable to protest the rules change. The pieces moved before him against his will. It was over in 13: black triumphs once more. “Boris Spaskey!” he cussed, then imagined a black crow perched on the tombstone of a freshly dug grave. He didn’t dig it. He didn’t!

Objects spread beneath the waters in all sorts of mad ways.

A captain and his trip.

Dorothy at the beginning of both the yellow and red bricked roads. Spinning.

Another dreamer floated nearby, a mermaid.

She was having a slightly different dream where Fisher sat at a red desk and watched several stationary red spots in front of him.

When he moved, they moved (slightly).

It was time to talk to the red brain-heart.


Whom Bee Thee ???

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Filed under *Second Life, Braynard's Place, Wallytown/Fishers Island

*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