Category Archives: Gaston

SL00

here not here

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couched

In a pot haze, Marion Harding waits patiently for the show to begin. He loves Elvis impersonators. Hucka Doobie tries to join him but finds she can’t.

—–

“Time to pull her out of that sluggish place,” Baker Bloch speaks about Gaston to Baker Blinker from their usual perch at the Perch restaurant. “Function’s basically used up anyway.”

“There’s the couch, still,” counters the female Baker. “Jeffrie Phillips — white star.”

“I can’t even find it tonight it’s so laggy. And I dare not log in Wheeler to help. My computer will crash, I’m sure of it.”

“Sugar house,” Baker Blinker then says. “Sugar’s House.”

“Alright I’ll give it another shot.”

“Give one to Marion as well.”

—–

“She does strike a good pose there,” Baker Bloch says, looking on remotely. “She seems… confident.”

“Put her with Marion. See what happens. Minimize windows as needed.”

—–

“It’s no use, Baker Blinker. Hucka Doobie just appears gray, like she’s in David Bowie’s shiny spacesuit from ‘The Man Who Fell To Earth.'”

“Precisely.”

—–

“Oops. There she is.”

“Have him walk. Have them talk. Plop Marion down in the plastic seat in front of Hucka Doobie. See what goes down.

—–

She’s wondering how much money is in that attache case, Baker Bloch. $50,000 lindens? Enough to get her out of this hazy, laggy place? Could be.”

“But how to strike up a conversation?

—–

Too late: looks like the show’s starting.”

“And that’s *not* Elvis.”

—–

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in-the-way

Sire, these 3 smaller houses appeared shortly after we transitioned over here from the center of Nascera, blocking our direct access to the beach park.”

“Beach access is important,” states Ellen. “And the time to spend on them.”

“I should clarify to be totally open: a renter *can* walk the sand in front of the houses to get to the park still. But it becomes more… inconvenient. A sign, I would ask you?”

“Seems to be,” agrees Ellen, licking his ice cream all the time. “I don’t want to stay too long but let’s take a look at the parallel houses in Gaston.”

“Thank you for agreeing to accompany me back over there. I know you have a rendezvous tonight with Wheeler.”

“Let’s not call her Wheeler in the blog. We’re being recorded, Sidechick.”

“Oh, right.” He looks down at his white tuxedo shoes, then up again. “I don’t want to invade privacy too much, sire, but notice if you will that the yellow house has already been rented, remembering that Earie rented the yellow house in Gaston. And someone has positioned 3 chairs — red, yellow, blue again — right in the center of that house.

“I see them.” Neither mentions the picture of the red clad woman hanging on the wall. “But we needn’t linger here any longer. Opp should confine himself to the Mockingbird House over there still if he desires to come to Braynard’s Place and use the, er, facilities.” Ellen indicates the larger house just down the beach to their south.

“Shame about the access,” Ellen reinforces.

“Shame,” Sidechick Corea echoes.

—–

“Ooo, so sluggish here,” Ellen complains. “Let’s not stay long.”

“But notice that the houses are on the sea again.  West edge of the island sim instead of the east.”

“I get the gist. Let’s go back.”

—–

Back on the beach, a transfigured Campbell O’Pine (Opp) manifests in the Bluebird Cuddle Van there, eliminating the need for Karl to do so. Now Annie can paint properly, or at least that’s the hope.

Eventually he heads southward through the arch again.

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Filed under *Second Life, Braynard's Place, Gaston

“When in Rome”

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black men

Duncan Avocado had prepared and was about to teleport into the center of the Gaston sim when he looked at the map. Someone was already there in that Central Park at 128/128. Never seen that before. He teleports in at a safe distance and remote checks…  another black man!

Who was he waiting on, if anyone? Was this a potential ally or foe? Could it possibly be someone investigating prison corruption in the sim like himself? Another dancer Sugar sent in, perhaps to taunt him? Speculation goes many directions. But his presence is real. He better lay off Gaston involvement and send another avatar from the core over here. Or, better, just use another core…

What a mess.

The time to act is now, he then thinks. “I must do what I planned to do. Tonight.”

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stripes

He was staying with Thimble these days, another dancer. Not that their relationship was all that serious of a thing to him — when was it? — but her second floor apartment’s view toward the Gaston-Berry Police Station put her top shelf over the other Berries.

And, yeah, The Berries really dug Duncan. He was different, unique. No, I’m not really talking about his singular status as a male African-American in Sugar’s employment. It’s just that they could see the inner boy within, the core innocence, unruined — unlike the case with about all of them. It attracted these kind of women like flies unto maple syrup.

But tonight we flip sides of the record. He had to dance for a dude. Alright, cool, cool, he said to himself when learning about the assignment. It’s all for the art form — good to keep practicing and staying limber. And he gets to keep all his clothes on; no funny stuff there. Sugar said the guy also requested that he doesn’t look at him. “Just focus on the dancing,” she ordered. “Don’t make eye contact. Just interact with him in as minimal a manner as you can get away with. He’s probably self conscious because of the damage to his face. I don’t know what happened to him — don’t really care. He paid good money and that all I need to know. And you too.”

—–

Midway through his first sequence, the bleached face man spoke. “You don’t even know who I am, do you?” But Duncan kept to his routine per Sugar’s instructions and didn’t answer.

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work for me

“I see you out there Georgie Porgie!” screeched Sugar Dumpling from the rickety pier. “You can’t run away from me! None of them will work. I made *sure* of that!”

George Duncan gives up finding a functioning sim skipper for the day. Maybe forever. He might as well go back into town and enjoy the advantages of being grown up, pheh. What he understood of it. Only in his Abbey was it safe to be himself. A boy of 10 to 13 and back to 10 in an endless loop. Sometimes he glimpsed 18 on sunnier days.

But there was another way out, he knew, impossible as it sounded. Find Jacob I. and bring him home to Gaston. Back to his Sugar Dumpling. Then he would be set free… and only then. It seems I simply have to give it a try, he thought to himself while clambering out of the boat and exhaling loudly. I can’t go on with this. And I feel I don’t have a lot of time left before The End; the Abbey will ultimately be found out and then cease to exist. Like a bug extinguished with a magnifying glass.

“Get back to your apartment and do some real work for a change!”

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