—–
“It was the perfect balance, Wheeler. Our Collagesity should have been integrated into NWES City, lesser to bigger. Red yellow green blue but also orange as the 5th.
“We failed.”
“But now we have a way to redeem ourselves,” balanced Wheeler, wiser in worldly ways than ever. The Baker Family here is still strong. And now with a new home. A new CENTER.
Let the butterflies fly I suppose.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0211, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, NVFS, NWES Island^
Sans Newt now, Wheeler was testing out more locals and taking more notes while also trying out new outfits, this one called Fern (dress) with kind of matching shoes I suppose.
“Excuse me, ma’am. The bathroom’s locked with no one inside. Do you have the key?”
“Bathroom’s *broke*,” exuded Gertrude Witherspoon from Grapeseed, a person dying on the vine.
“Well can you tell me where the nearest public restroom is? My husband and I were just passing through on the way to Chilbo (she lies).”
“Mmmmmmmmm. I *said*…. hmmmm…. let me…. think… ummmmm.”
“Well, never mind,” said Wheeler. We’ll just do it in the grass beside the road.”
“That sounds best,” the woman said with no irony in her voice. Did she really think this was the best solution? Would *she* resort to that?
Wheeler was about to walk through the front door in a huff when…
“Oh wait, young person.” Young person! Wheeler thought. The old hag had just redeemed herself, ha. “Bert’s in his office today for a change. Bert has an extra set of keys. Just knock on the door — ’round the poster there.” As if she couldn’t be bothered, Wheeler thought, watching her continue to just stand there and pose in various ways. Provocatively? Could be if she were, say, 60 years younger, Wheeler thought, and then also thought that’s not a very nice thought. *She’s*… well, she always says she’s 25 working on 39. But those days had passed. Just call it a Jack Bennyism vanity.
Going past Gertrude again — bathroom’s broke *pheh* — she gently knocks on the door.
Bert, or who she presumes is Bert, calls back in a pleasant enough voice to come in. She goes in.
But not before noticing what appeared to be Gertrude prominently appearing in that poster. Queer! she thought.
Then the same poster inside along with another surprise.
“You!”
And just like that she was gone.
My Nawt Vaya seaside property has been restored after an unfortunate accident that wiped away all former structures. Short story: I now own the land instead of renting it.
Compare to the old setup:
The big thing, you’ll notice, is that Newt’s Big Victorian Townhouse has been moved from the center of the property to its edge down on the beach, replacing that church also pictured above. This sits in a separate, private parcel from the rest I call Newtonia where Newt can be Newt and away from it all.
Except for the human boy Fink who is using his attic computer until Bimbo shows up next week sometime. I think. Then the latter will serve as Fink’s gateway to games, etc. Stay as long as you like up there, says Newt to the boy when he arrives, usually every day around 5 and then usually sticking around until 7 or so when Newt starts watching his shows with the wife and Fink returns to his treehouse home to eat with his bestest mate Jack the Dogg. Oh: Wheeler? Yeah, she’s around too. Just don’t know where her base of operations is yet. Not Newtonia I don’t think. Although she’s obviously there sometimes.
Also Mabel’s cottage up on the hill hasn’t returned, freeing up some prims for skybox rezzing and such.
(to be continued; very excited!)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0209, Bright Moon Cottage, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, NVFS, Oooo
Time to go see what the boys are up to.
—–
“Thanks for joining me on this little venture.”
“Sure,” he said. “Vegetable garden can wait. Besides, well…”
“Yeah. Potential company back there. You’re going to have to be careful.”
“*You’re* going to have to be careful.”
“Soo… (sigh) This is where it happens, the magic, the view of paradise that boy mentioned.”
“Suppose so, Wheeler.”
“I mean, we saw them head in this direction. No lights. Like now.” Here Wheeler once again wonders if Newt and she would ever be a proper couple. Probably not, she concludes once more, a broken record, a record missing some letters in the middle to make it real. Simply because he’s Baker Bloch and that’s not allowed. Not *here*.
“Right, right. Stayed there — here — about an hour. I suppose that’s enough for paradise.”
“Yes,” said Wheeler nonchalantly to this. “And over there too, that building over there.” Wheeler remotely opens the window to the shack, points. “A treehouse as I’m checking; ‘nother place they go now.”
Treehouse, she ponders. Like the boys live in, with a shared robot computer on the way from their home world of Oooo as well. Should be arriving by next Tuesday’s Thursday.
“Yes, I remember when we were young and full of energy like that,” says Newt. Now just old and tired? he thinks to himself. He’s 50 going on 67. And Wheeler… he supposes she’s at least in her late 40s. Doesn’t look a day over 25 (he looks over). Well, 30 (pause) 35. Body aging gracefully, though. And so is his, he realizes. This works down here and that works up there. Both can happen.
Plus there’s The Abyss to consider, the writhing. Not Hell, but a kind of prison anyway (like Shelley is in?). Newt’s seen glimpses when he drinks his two daily 4 shot lattes too close to each other. 319. Must think about that more. Nawt Vaya — 319, hmm.
“Wheeler?” He looks over, sees the eyes. “I’ve decided to give it a shot.”
“What shot?” she shoots back.
“You know. *That*.”
“*Here*?”
He thinks of The Abyss. So many writhing in The Abyss. Trapped. A date to begin, yes. Start over fresh. Hot dog joint out in the sticks won’t swing it. Something upscale, classy. Wheeler can wear one of those discount gowns she’s been collecting recently, hmph.
“Are you asking me *out*? Hubby?”
(to be continued)
She was sitting on a trash bin at a local hot dog joint, taking mental notes.
“What do you think about Nawt Vaya so far?” asked senior Wanda Spotify to junior transfer Leonard Johhannssonn about the state university they both attend, the former destined to replace Peter Melanchton as summa cum laude graduate of her class.
He smiled, thinking of what just went on in their secretive 12×10 getaway cabin just over there. He’d seen… paradise!
“Welll?” she asked, addicted to answers (which made her such a good student). Then, looking over at Wheeler on the trash bin, she caught the synchronicity. Oh, well *that* won’t happen again, she thought. Until tonight. Studying and attending classes first, of course. Then they’ll meet back here at the hot dog stand around 6-ish. Wheeler took note of that too.
—–
“Why are we here Wheeler?” questioned on again off again hubby Newt.
“Just shussh,” she said not much above a whisper. “I’m trying to listen.” To soothe Newt’s then perceived hurt feelings, she added, “I’ll tell you when they leave.”
Their one hot dog came, neither being much of a meat lover. Unless it’s Wheeler.
(to be continued)
Now back to Jack at that other treehouse across the water — just beyond the rocket over there. And Fink of course. Bimbo? We’ll see.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0205, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, Oooo, SG Park, South Lake
I plan to keep it as clear as possible toward the Nawt Vaya inland sea from her computer desk, ha. Doing my part anyway.
And has that chicken there mistaken a mouse for an egg? Have to think about that. 🙂
Wonder what’s cook’n?
—–
“Well it’s just beautiful hair, Ms…”
“Wilson,” said Wheeler. “Wheeler Wilson.”
“Like the dams, then,” responded stylist Sep to this.
“And the Vice-Presidents, ha (!).”
“Oh yes, that too,” said Sep, barely remembering the latter fact from her “1800s Sex/History Education” elective humanities class taken over at the local college along with all the cosmetology ones needed for that associate degree. “Soo… what’ll it be today?” Marveling Sep was thinking while continuing to wash: I personally wouldn’t change a thing if I had such luxurious locks.
“Chop it all off (internal gasp from Sep?). Dye it pink. In *short*, I want the Butterfly. Number 25. I saw it on your ad.”
“Oh, *very* popular. All the Butterflies are selling well currently. Must be the Spring in the air. Time of transformation,” she waxed philosophically. “Change.” Washing done now, Wheeler sits up as Sep begins to towel her dry.
“Indeed.” This long hair Magika style is for the winter, Wheeler thinks. She wants her scalp to breathe now. Sunlight; warmth. And… a new man. Who is the same as the old man. Old Man Newt, ha, distinctive in his growing greyness. Will meet him next. Under the parrots, or as close as they could get.
—–
“What do you think?”
“Perfect.” But while saying this she was looking at the reflection of the guy in the next chair over instead of her own. So familiar. Where had she seen him before? And why was he just sitting there instead of getting his own hair cut or styled? Queer.
(to be continued)
“Fog’s lifting a bit,” he offered in the silence, she trying still to figure out the fingering on the harp piece she wanted to play. And she didn’t want to seem like an amateur while warming up. Thus the quiet except for the nearby low roar of the backwards positioned waterfall. “Well?” he then said. “What are you, I mean, what are you and Newt going to do?” It was obvious to him that they should stay in the area, this Nawt Vaya inland sea of the Jeogeot continent in the world of Our Second Lyfe. *Their* Second Lyfe. Hopefully still.
“We’re meeting at the parrots today to talk about it. I’m just going to admit everything. You — not Art, because he doesn’t seem to be involved.”
“The hubby.” Ed liked Art but didn’t love Art. Good thing.
“Yeah, the true one, the Whitehead in Da Woods. I guess I should express remorse or something.”
“Naaah,” responded Ed.
“Thinking along the same lines,” she admitted. What they had was good. It was just something to pass the time, mostly the late afternoon of each of April May’s days. And she knew she was irrisistable, ha. Especially since she’s ditched the child part from top and bottom. Wheeler she is again, without trapped-in-the-past Shelley. She and Newt remain childless in this reality. The reality of Nawt Vaya. Almost time to make a decision on that.
—–
She gets her ass up from the writing desk and moves toward the door, relieved it remains unlocked as she nervously tests the knob. She is still free to leave this place.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0116, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, South Lake
Turns out, it was harder to shake at least Ed than she figured. Art she hadn’t tried out. They talk about it afterwards in their temporary home beside the still pouring waterfall, mission to the nearby inland sea unfulfilled and perhaps unfulfillable given the flow away from it instead of toward. This acted not like a real falls, in other words. “So, what’s the status?” Ed wanted to know. “Am I in or am I out?”
“Both,” she jested. “For now.”
The waterfall drowned out the rest of their conversation this morning, but little words remained.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0115, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, South Lake
Sunklands 