Category Archives: Fruity Islands^^

penultimate?

When I stared over at White Elvis, I realized I had his hair and got rid of it. The older doo, not the younger one (pictured) here. But still — a reminder.

I am now more The Man(n) than ever.

I turned to red, white and blue Cpt. Americus downing yet another piece of yellow chicken from his magical, chicken piece producing bucket and ask him where it went all wrong.

He mentioned something about Wheeler f-ing things up. I didn’t know who Wheeler was. He said she was the ideal woman, the Venus Da Milo. I said, “*de* Milo.” He said, “whatever,” and chose a breast to eat next with his free hand.

I thought back to the story of lusty Jack the Mallard on Fruity Islands for some reason. Probably because I was looking for the same there. I must go back sometime. Eden…

As he kept vociferously munching and crunching, I considered I was dealing with a Southerner here. Hence the chicken. Hence the White Elvis; black nowhere to be found in this recording studio. No Lena Horned, for instance. No “Ballad of Stormy Daniels.” I then realized this could be the studio of Your Mama. This was *the* room. I decided to ask.

“Who’re you recording today, Cpt.?” I didn’t say the full name on purpose. I was testing how far I could go without falling back.

Cpt. Americus glanced into the studio, as if someone was there. “Oh, the usual. Local gal.”

“White, I assume,” The Man(n) wanted to say, but instead said, “good that you’re developing the local talent.” And then more information spouted from the Cpt.’s masticating mouth full of chicken. Disgusting. But – must – keep — digging. Further tonight.

“Yup,” he spoke. Then the girl returned from her break, beautiful in a black gown.

—–

I decided to go back tonight. The place (with the beach chairs) Da Womann and I sat and chatted and some other stuff was gone. Maybe it was all a dream? But the statues were still there. Adam and his Eve.

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breakfast of champions

“Don’t kill me sir!” the puppet man pleaded vigorously in his high, wavering voice. “I’m an innocent! I haven’t done nothing wrong, done no one no harm!”

Charlie stares into the eyes of innocence, lowers the knife. He can’t do it. Charlie Banana begins untying Freedom Puppet.

“Get up. Here. Take the knife.”

—–

“That trick was easier than I thought,” Freedom Puppet said while quickly cutting a circle around the center of Charlie Banana. “Eat your heart out Gene Kelly.”

—–

At her Fruity Island house boat, Parasol goes to check the morning mail. “Ahh. A real heart instead of a puppet one.” Parasol sighs. “Poor Charlie Banana. We had a good run, though.”

“Looks like blue might win out after all.”

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Fruity Islands > Rosehaven > Collagesity

—–

“So *you* were the Prince all along. This Ingo. Should’ve known by the name. Ingo… Ingor, your drummer.”

“And you have been the witch Hazel all along,” declared Col. Flagstaff from his log. “My ancient nemesis.”

“Perhaps not any more. Maybe moving forward from this centre spot we can be allies instead of axis. Depends if I can choose blue over red. It will be hard.”

“You should ditch Banana Boy to begin. Your yellow lover.”

“I need him still,” countered Parasol.

“Alright. Suit yourself.” Both knew this was a mistake, though.

Parasol looked at Col. Flagstaff. “You’ll have to remove the sphere to make a final decision. You can’t take that thing with you.”

“Sure about that?”

—–

“Say they — we — were trying to get rid of you, huh?”

“Yeah. Implied I was a liability.”

“And you saw this in the cave.”

“Yeah. I was the fire in the center of it all. The observing fire.”

“Interesting.”

Charlie Banana knew that if he didn’t kill the puppet man soon Parasol would need his heart instead. Better move into action.

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fruit loop adventure

He could feel her hot, putrid breath against his neck. Death, Angel of. Head like a grapefruit. Or a basketball.

“Come on, Sam Bee. Time to take the plunge. She’ll be waiting here for us when it’s over.”

“You don’t know,” he hissed, gazes still locked. “You weren’t there, Duncan.”

“I was there,” Duncan reassured his friend. His war vet friend.

“We — almost — had them — by the BALLS.”

—–

Parasol woke up, looked over at Charlie sitting heavily on the couch beside her. “You’ve changed.”

“Something’s happening,” he agreed.

Someone was about to enter the circle.

—–

Parasol woke up again, Charlie still beside her.

“Duncan A. and Sam B. are about to enter the gorgeous gorge. I saw it in my dream.”

“Then I guess you’re gonna split, huh?”

“Not till Sundae.”

—–

Parasol woke up.

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1st and last

After several hours of lounging and drinking, a man appears on the beach in front of Duncan and Sam as a sea monster’s fin manifests in the water behind him. They can’t help but notice the conjunction.

“That is a monster who has turned into a man,” Duncan says in a low voice to his war vet friend.

“Indeed,” Sam murmurs back.

—–

But the two were just drunk and spouting relative nonsense. The man, who was actually The Mann, couldn’t see Duncan and Sam on their deck since he was in a different sim. He continued on down the beach past Matilda the snake, hoping to meet Da Womann before dusk. Shirley was her name. Or Ethel. Something.

—–


Made it!

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Big on enjoyment.

Another satisfying meal for Duncan Avocado in one of his many Fruity Islands hangouts. No way he could eat it all. Dog friend Barney was currently barking at some ducks swimming in a pool backed by several waterfalls.

A snake named Matilda lay nearby, as full as Duncan from gorging on a stray duckling. Mother Wanda will be inconsolable for days until her next batch of quackers is born, when she completely forgets about the existence of Little Arnold as babies Pete, Jim Bob, Orange, Tan, Smokey, Lila, and Bertie absorb all of her time.

Recent mother Abbey tells Matilda to stay away from her own brood, and emphasizes that there’s plump, juicy frogs and lizards over in the far corner of the pool. Jack the Mallard just wants to make love to either Wanda or Abbey again. It’s that time for him.

Trojan-Durexian War vet Sam Bee, watching Barney, Wanda, Abbey, Jack and Matilda in turn, has taken up fishing. But also, friend Duncan notices, drinking, a not deadly combination but one to perhaps worry about for later. Better get him into his gorgeous gorge as soon as possible. But Big Island is so peaceful. He wouldn’t mind popping open another brewskie himself. And, in fact, does so.

Life death is good.

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Collagesity > Fruity Islands

“I think there’s a fly in my beer, Baker Bloch. So catch me up more. What’s happening in town? *Who’s* in town… now? I saw Roger Pine Ridge staring at me from his perch up Old Cannon Road. Who else?”

“No time tonight unfortunately, Baker Blinker. We must return to Parasol.”

—–

“I’m glad you enjoy my company, Charlie. I enjoy yours as well.”

“You know, don’t you?” Charlie began suspecting for some reason during the climax.

“Hmmm, about Bandit Boy? About how you betrayed your supposed good friend Roger Pine Ridge and then changed forms after Cyberpaperdoll left you in turn to try to make amends? Do I know about the stolen Rainbow Sphere and the fame and fortune that goes along with it? Yes. I do.” She turns and stares at him squarely. “And there’s not a gosh darn thing you can do about it.” She blinks her red-blue eyes innocently.

“I see.” He avoids her stare in turn, looks at his feet, his hands. Gazes at the horizon while in thought. “Are… you going to tell.. on me?” he then manages. He liked Collagesity. He wasn’t ready to leave yet.

“I have a deal for you, double faced boy. There’s a puppet in town that I want killed. Cut his heart out and bring it to me. Then we’ll talk.”

Silence, then Parasol tacked on: “It’s only a puppet after all. A *doll*.”

“I see.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0411, Fruity Islands^^, Rubi^

one could say they were on the summit of Crow

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0407, End of Time^^, Fruity Islands^^

Pitaya

She had been living on the Aloha houseboat for over 3 1/2 years now. She’d had plenty of time to contemplate her life as Witch Hazel in the past, and, moving forward, well… something good instead of bad she’ll be the next time at bat. Fruity bat.

Right now, she occupies a position between good and evil — red and blue. Purgatory, in effect. But she’s grown use to her schizoid nature. Soon enough it will end for Parasol and she’ll become someone else.

Sam Bee is a key; Trojan-Durexian War, etc. Sting operation. She knows that from Ruby Fantasie’s Middletown US of A investigations, which are ongoing.

In the other room of the boat, Charlie Banana wakes up and needs a drink. Yes, “between” she is indeed currently. But all split things must end.

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Manbolo

“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.

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