Category Archives: Iris

new Max related graffiti found in still vacant Stairs Gallery

But who’s Ruby? observing Ragdoll wonders.


Also new: binocular viewer atop Stairs.

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2 weeks earlier…

“Tell me what to do, Max. Give me guidance.”

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The Max

Ragdoll was the first person to point out that if you stand atop the Stairs Gallery (still vacant as of this writing) and increase your draw distance to just over 300 meters, the almost totally white Max Statue will appear to the northeast. It then became sort of a fad to have impromptu parties there on Friday nights to celebrate the mysterious, 20 meter high deity perched atop the Second Lyfe Railroad in that direction. But Sister Martha Lamb quickly snuffed out any chance for the get-togethers to develop into yet another rival religion in town to her own. She declared it idol worshiping, and threatened to write the Lindens (rulers of our world) to have the statue torn down. The threat worked: either avatars moved over to Ragdoll’s old trailer park to continue worship (these numbered three: 30something couple Richard and Linda Abingdon, along with octogenarian Steve Barker), or people stayed in Collagesity and conveniently forgot all about it, including Ragdoll. After all, by this time she had a new boyfriend named Jerry Richardson to deal with, an older man himself and well into his 50s when they shared their first bowl of Bumpy’s ice cream purchased from the new Bodega Marketplace dessert bar. Yeah, Collagesity is doing just fine these days, and another religion may have muddied the spiritual waters too much. But Max remains there for all to see from Stairs, and — if you increase your draw distance to the, um, *max* (512 meters) — from about anywhere in town within eye shot actually. Long Live Max!


The eyes of Max.


Max: Second Lyfe RR in front; Great Wall in back.


Max above Agnus Nuffin’s Blue Star Truck Stop.

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mum 02

After the physical (dinner) grilling the next day, Ragdoll planned to start in on the verbal grilling while they sat on the porch and let their bodies digest all that heavy meat they’d just consumed. Beef and chicken and fish all! For they had expected Indigo and her new bo to show up, the same dad burn Justice that Alma had just gotten rid of. Ragdoll thinks her sister may be doing this just to irk everyone around her! But Justice complained that he still couldn’t sit in a regular chair for more than 30 minutes at a time, and they ended up having dinner in bed over at their own trailer in Tinseltown. More food for them, however, and Ragdoll had overeaten due to nerves. Yet she instilled zen calm within while sitting in her lawn chair pretending to doze, and was seemingly good to go after about 10 minutes.

“Daddy?” she began.

Angus Nuffin roused himself from an actual nap. “Yes, pumpkin?”

“Do we have, um… any pie left in the fridge?”

—–

Ragdoll just couldn’t do it; couldn’t get herself to talk about the conversation she overheard last night. Or mainly overheard, for there was still the wall that muffled some of it. She loved her daddy so much and didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and knew he’d tell Indigo and her when the time was right. But she was planning as well: she’d just herself started dating Tin Tin, a cousin of Justice actually (and how they met), but considerably smarter and nicer. She’d miss that relationship. But maybe something else as good or better would come up in this Collagesity they were heading to. Not far over the hill, Bill had said last night. Just a hop and a skip, as she put it — just beyond the wall.

While her daddy began dozing again, Ragdoll quietly got out of her chair and walked around the side of the trailer, “show property lines” toggled on.

The Diagonal, she thinks, staring at the northwest corner of the Obscure sim. So close yet so far. And in Rubi it would be a little further still, according to Bill. But the woods amplified — those were her exact words, she recalls. Ragdoll returns to her lawn chair, pondering what it could mean.

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mum 01

He was staring at the test pattern on the television, wishing MTV was on this late at night, when the soft knocks came at the door. He checked the clock on the wall to his left: 2:01 am on the nose. Heart beating harder, he knew this could only be one person given the precise timing. Ragdoll and Indigo had both gone to bed around 11, he reckoned; most likely fast asleep. Because he knew what the conversation would be about and there was no need for his daughters to be involved right now.

Even then, with only this brief prompt, Angus Nuffin started making assessments of his property, started planning how to get from this place to another place. For The Diagonal here had been losing energy for a considerable amount of time now. There was hardly anyone over at Lollygagger Lane these days for instance, although in its heyday it was one hopping place. Like a perpetual bunny hop, and he inwardly laughed at his joke. Because this meant the person at the door had also visited the psychiatrist over there already. She would not remember the contents of their meeting until later, maybe not until after the move, he speculated. He might even have to be in disguise for a while wherever they ended up.

The soft knocks repeated. Better not keep *our queen* waiting any longer. He made himself get up off the couch and answer the door.

“I think you’ve been expecting me?”

Angus immediately spotted the large red ring on the strange woman’s hand. “Yes, mum. Please come in.” He waved her over to the most comfortable chair in the trailer.

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Charlie on the spot

The witnesses sat around the pit containing the crucial and central psychiatrist stand, two to the right…

…two to the left.

All were reading and not seeming to pay attention except one. The true witness: Norris, also known as JERRY or Harry. For he had seen much more than the others on his couch of stripes (etc.) and was curious how this would all turn out for Bill.

No one was looking at Norris now so Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer’s evaluation could begin.

“So, my queen. Let’s get right to the point.”

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$4

Ragdoll watched the dogs play outside her trailer for the longest time, it seemed. Newte was so bad about not coming upon being called. And she’d given up training Jaspo in *anything* when he was not much more than a pup. What was the use?

They’re collecting at the door, she thought. Pops must be inside rattling around keys, getting ready to close up for the shift. Ragdoll knew Alma would be here any minute in her old, beat up blue Chevy truck to relieve him. She was reliable but testy, and could shout the skin off of any man alive if needed. More than once, her daddy had been the victim of scattershot, both of a verbal *and* a physical variety. Former bo Justice will be needing that specially made seat cushion for a while, haha. But it wasn’t a laughing matter at the time; Ragdoll thought that Alma had killed him. But Justice was just naturally a heavy bleeder, and all that blood covered much tamer wounds than spectators of the scene could imagine. Then there was the other time… oh, there’s daddy. Pops. At least *he* comes when called.

Upon exiting the building, Angus Nuffin petted each jumping dog individually. “How’s my Salt; how’s my Pepper?” (those were his nicknames for the mutts, bought for 2 lindens apiece from Gingus Kind Jr. after the death of his father). He then spotted his daughter sitting on the warm blacktop, waving brightly. Although not planning it, she finds herself jumping up as well, mimicking the dogs’ admiration of the man. But she resists running toward him and giving him a big hug. She had other things on her mind today. The Diagonal. Ragdoll had been plotting her dinner grilling strategy while waiting and watching. Again in both a verbal and physical variety, for she was the designated cooker as well tonight.

Meat Wednesday. That’s another thing she needed to talk to her daddy about when the time was right — about her vegetarian leaning ways. But for now, as a kid of 12, beef and chicken and the rest tasted okay still. Remained pretty delicious, except when she came across one of those hard parts that was probably, *hopefully*, a bit of bone or cartilage or something. Fish, she thought again. One day, not too far off, she will only eat fish as a meat. Snapper, flounder, perch. Mmmmmm, she thought. But for now, her mouth still watered a little for beef, for chicken, for the rest. But not ham. Never ham. That was a firm rule for Meat Wednesday since she learned that pigs might be smarter than some men. *Obviously* Alma’s Justice, hehe.

Angus Nuffin walks toward her and she couldn’t resist any longer. The big hug came swift and easy as Alma pulled in. “My little Zero,” he says, holding her tight.

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