“I have 9 linden dollars to my name, Charlie. We need to go back to Rodentia and gamble again. I won last time!”
“You also *lost*,” Roger Pine Ridge’s new Collagesity roommate Charlie Banana reminded and reprimanded. Both loved smokes, and that’s how they “accidentally” met. Rodentia speak-easy.
“Now… let’s talk about Parasol.”
“Alright Prime, Edos, Mono. It’s been 3 weeks to the day, hour, minute. Time to use our God given tools and break out of this place.”
“I think I’ve lost my way, sir,” addressed Casey the Alien to serviceman Bill Pill. “Can you help me get back home?”
“First hall to the right, first door on the left,” Bill offered without needing further details. He’d seen all this before.
“I’ve lost my way, sir,” Bill repeated to the person opposite him, who was also the same as him. “I need to find my way back home.”
The other Casey leaned forward, staring straight ahead with black, smoldering coals for eyes. “I don’t *need* anything.” He kept staring until the other acquiesced.
“Neither… do I,” the Casey on this side then spoke. He was home.
Casey One Hole waits in his chair for the actual visitor today. A woman named Ruby. Something about a prison breakout. And cherry tarts.
The other prisoners wait patiently as well.
Chip Westerhouse was the first guard posted at the newly built and still unoccupied women’s addition to the Cheri State Military Prison prison bordering Linden protected Xilted. His assignment required he not move from his post…
… but he did have this great view to contemplate while standing still for so long.
Supergal Flo looked on from afar, wondering how many alternate realities she’d have to manipulate in order to stay out of that hideous place for any length of time.
Sans bowtie, Casey the Alien ran far far away from the new Middletown establishment hidden inside a native skyscraper, realizing he had been tricked into being.
He even ran into a tree and kept on running. All the way out of this sim.
“So Karl (Karl!). What’s the story with the painting of the little girl with the blue purse?”
“That goes back a looong way, Dr. Superhero. With *blue* bowtie,” he adds on.
“Please, Mr. Bartender. Do tell.”
“I just did.”
He realizes the bowtie is the same as the purse, listening Mystic Girl thinks from the far side of the bar. Both tack ons. But does he realize he *is* the painting now? I created him. I should know.
“Something just happened, Karl.”
“Oh boy,” the furry bartender exclaimed anxiously, and quickly left the scene, claiming to be restocking in back.
Could be anyone in this corner where the Kidd Tower originally sat in Middletown. But let’s choose… Dr. Nightwing, a more interesting composite figure.
We could put him in a wearable pool with Paula Butterfly to enjoy the late day sun.
Appears they might be having considerable fun there.
Brazilian Bill (frog) looks on, hoping they’ll talk about town linchpin Tronesisia later on. Because he has some beans to spill.
Who else? How ’bout an apple tree in another corner.
The last one planted by Johnny “Thor” Appleseed in Our Second Lyfe, who, since he’s out of seeds now, is just plain ol’ Johnny Thor, purveyor of a local comic book store specializing in DC and Marvel comics — mainly Marvel. No renegade or underground comics in his place of business mind you. He leaves that for sinister lowlife Oranga Black, dealing on the wrong side of town. Away from the bay as they say.
And lastly: this person.
“I know something.”