Category Archives: West End

Fi 02

I wonder what all this reference to Metal means around here?

Oh well. Time to clean the bathroom again. I’ll show The Man About Time I’m worth my weight in… *something*.

—–

“I will find you, my friend. I will find you and set you free. I understand a little something about being trapped in the head.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Jeogeot^^, Nautilus^^, West End

Fi 01

Dadada Again (!). And I can buy for nothing. Yes, Herbert Gold must stay in this West End for a spell. Try to reconcile with the present wife but, if not, there’s always red. Redshirt red, redhair red. Something red. 4th.

How exciting! West End still has magic, probably due to the lingering effects of WES. From beyond the grave.

—–

“Don’t you think WES could be Joplin, Hucka D.?”

“Could be, baker b.”

—–

Rentals? ponders Herbert Gold, spotting the sign while heading back from the road’s terminus. Sounds intriguing. Maybe April Mae will like it better here than that box in Dewey.

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on the border

Herbert Gold sat at the terminus of West End Road just before dawn and started his first painting ever, simply entitled “Gold”. Afterwards he gets the strong sense of being boxed in again and realizes he has to end it with April Mae. Wife #4 on the way. He has an inclination to go with a redhead this time. Younger. Red. We’ll see what happens.

This statue commemorates the discovery of sculpted prims in ’06. Found in the prim mines of Heterocera, sculpted prims were immediately recognized as a new category of prim that would change the face of Second Life forever. This statue is dedicated to the brave Moles who delved into the pixelated crust of Heterocera Atoll in order to bring forth these valuable prims.

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flagged

He had to get it over with. It should have been done yesterday. Danny had to come to Dewey to live. For good. That’s why the names are in his county.

Just right over there.

Better, hrmph, hop to it.

—–

—–

“I don’t know what to say, Man About Time.”

“Jim K., please,” The Man About Time requested about his name. “Call me Jim.”

“Well, whatever, this is a wonderful gift. Thank you!”

“And, as you can see, we’ve copied both your American and Florida flag from the trailer to here. Much more room. And Greyhound Imperial Town is right next door. Hear they have a nice art museum you can clean up. I know you like art.” Not quite enough to save your Fal Mouth Moon job, though, The Man About Time thinks to himself here. Tronesisia’s orders: Danny had to go. The Humanvillians had jumped off the confines of 2-dimensional art and come alive. Herbert and April Mae Humanvillian, ugh. Denizens directly from Mammoth Cave (Kentucky Town) to an art gallery near you. They’ll be in for a while. Hope they like their new neighbor.

—–

“This is *ridiculously* small,” complained a totally pissed off April Mae to her husband. “This door won’t even *fully shut*.”

But Herbert Gold was strangely taking all the upheaval quite calmly. Time for a change, he thought but didn’t speak aloud. I’m tired of servants and groundskeepers. We’ll be better off here. He was beginning to dwell on his exes again. And a new one possibly coming up soon.

Oh, and he didn’t die. Tronesisia brought him back to life. Guess that cheers him up a bit too.

And that’s how the Humanvillians came to Dewey. Soon they would explore the whole West End peninsula, all the way to Sentinel at its coastal terminus. Much more interesting in the days when megaburg WES was around, the musical birthplace of the band Love The Three and its Marty, Lemon and George Harris’ Son. Destined they were for great, star studded things, once Ingor was added.


Ingor “Redman” Ratts in WES, c.2007


Now where *are* they?

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Filed under *Second Life, Jeogeot^^, West End

Tin (double)

“Ahh, I found it. The place Roger Pine Ridge was born. Dewey.”

—–

“Tronesisia.”

“In the nuts and bolts!”

“Did I choose well? Did I do right?”

“You are leaning slightly more toward fame than obscurity but (the margin) is acceptable. Your *doppleganger* is balancing you by leaning toward the opposite. You may approach.”

The sweating Man About Time moved forward then bowed.

“I have *so* much to ask (!).”

“Let’s brighten the place up a little bit first…”

—–

“We should have given it back,” Herbert Gold reinforced to his wife. “The object was obviously set on the wrong permissions. I *told* you at the time.”

“I just thought it was… *fate*(!),” April Mae tried to defend about the stolen art.

“Like the rare atlas that you could have stolen from that library because it was already checked out to someone else, hmph.”

“Y-yes.(!)” She couldn’t pass up another opportunity.

But now they were in *trouble*(!!).

—–

“This is like you and Madame Silver, Herbert Gold,” Tronesisia spoke behind him, referring to one of his exes. “But you had the decency to move beyond her. Question, though: is she silver, or actually — perhaps — *tin*?”

Similarly sweating Herbert Gold, who knew he was in hot water, expressed relief that Tronesisia didn’t say platinum.

“Oh yeah,” Tronesisia corrected with a small laugh. “Pla*tin*um. That’s what I meant, ha.”

Oh boy.

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