Category Archives: Morrison

Morrison

“You’re back Clyde.”

“Yes, Richard,” answers the pink lady-elephant. “But it’s Bonnie.”

“Where’s Gregg?” asks Richard.

“You mean Stan? He said he was on his way. What are you guys up to tonight?”

“Nothing. Heard you got a new band Clyde.”

Bonnie shakes her head. “*Howard* has a new band. That’s my twin brother. They call themselves Leona, yes. Just rehearsing so far, I’ve heard.”

“Blackstars,” says Ziffie the smaller pink elephant on the bar stool to Richard’s left.

“What was that?” Richard asks down to him.

“The name of the band,” Ziffie explains, “is now Blackstars. I think it’s a David Bowie tribute band, but Garson sued and put them in their place.”

“Who’s Garson?” asked the man in the scary rabbit costume.

“Former Bowie keyboardist. ‘Alladin Sane’, ‘Outside’… list goes on.”

“But mainly ‘Alladin Sane’,” pipes up Ziffie again.

“Yes,” agrees Bonnie. “More the (title) song and not the album.”

“Improvisor,” inserts Ziffie.

“Right you are, cousin. Three time’s the charm.”

Stan comes strolling into the cafe.

“What’s up homies?”

“Blackstars,” says Bonnie.

“Blackstars,” Ziffie quickly follows.

Bonnie and Ziffie stare at Richard, pressuring him. He relents. “Hmmm. Blackstars I suppose.”

“Cool. Let’s you and me, Richard, go see the new crop of dead people over at Pervimus’ Gathering Bar.”

Instead of answering, Richard goes up and smells Stan. “That a new perfume, honey?”

Leave a comment

Filed under *Second Life, Heterocera, Morrison, Uncategorized

color row 02

“Giant Jiff,” Buster commands, “this morning we need to dismantle this block of houses and attached tiny village. Location change — other colorful houses used for the set, you see. Also: phone Bettie up and tell her we need to start preparing to get the heck out of Dodge. I have to take a shower.”

“Sure thing boss.”

“Shoot,” exclaims the overhearing sheriff down at Tiny Towne.

“Looks like you’re free to go Prisoner Pothead.”

Leave a comment

Filed under *Second Life, Heterocera, Morrison, Uncategorized

Smallerville

“What happened to the other pink elephant, Ziffie?”

“Howard? (Do) you mean Howard?”

“I don’t know his name,” the visiting Baker reinforced.

“Island,” Ziffie spoke. “Skies,” Ziffie clarifed. “Island in the Skies,” Ziffie amalgamated.

“So he’s left [delete name] town?”

“Not far,” Ziffie then said. “Island. Skies.”

“Yes, I gathered,” spoke Baker Bloch flatly. Where *is* Hucka Doobie? he thought to himself.

—–

“So this is it, Hucka Doobie. Right where Ziffie said it would be.”

“And where did you meet these people? These elephants?”

“That town right over there. Baker Bloch pointed to his left. The town you were suppose to meet me in.”

“Sorry I lost the landmark. I’ve had a lot of things on my mind lately.”

“Pollinating party organizing is tough, I’ve heard. But only from you.”

“And I had other stuff to do.” Hucka Doobie didn’t clarify.

“Well, should we?”

“Sure.”

—–

“Not much to it, Baker Bloch.”

“A good view of the town, though,” Baker offered, peering over the south edge. “I suppose that’s why he chose the spot. Didn’t want to go too far up with it.”

“Should we go inside this cottage?”

“Call first… but I don’t have… wait, I remember the name now.”

“Spit it out.”

“Howard?” Baker called. “Howard??” he said again. No answer.

“That’s enough of a warning for me, along with a rap on the door. Three times then we’re in. My rule.”

“Alright,” Baker Bloch agreed.

—–

“No knocking needed, Baker Bloch. Door just opened right up.” Hucka Doobie gazed at the blood red curtain just beyond. He turned to Baker. “I’m not afraid, are you?”

“No,” the half dead avatar lied.

They plunged ahead with sweaty palms.

“This is all there is?”

“It’s the Black Lodge, silly,” states Hucka Doobie, breathing a little easier. “Twin Peaks; Black Lodge.” I wonder where the midget is?”

“I believe dwarf or little person is the appropriate terminology, Hucka Doobie. And being about 3 feet tall yourself, you’re one to talk.”

“I know who did this. Must be Buster Damm. Or that Tonshi woman. Or both of them together. This is where *they* went. I feel (this truth) in me from head to feet.”

“Go ahead and try out a chair Hucka Doobie.”

“I have a better idea,” said the bee-person. “We’ll do it together.” They positioned themselves in front of 2 of the 3 chairs. “Alright, on 3. One, two…”

The scene shifted. They were outside on the sky island again.

“Not even a cottage up here,” spoke Hucka Doobie, not remembering the last 10 minutes in the least.

Leave a comment

Filed under *Second Life, Heterocera, Morrison, Uncategorized

high heaven

For a while, Nancy spent a good chunk of each day in the High Line park where she could gaze down at the last resting place of her beloved Danny in the long strip of eucalyptuses across the railroad track. Peter SoSo had joined her this particular morning, but kept his distance. He didn’t know Nancy personally but eventually figured out this must be the grieving lover of the town’s recently deceased plumber. He followed the direction of her repeated, teary stares and glances; understood the tiny Defiance family cemetery recently increased by 1/2 was their focus.

Peculiar talents considered, Peter decided it might be his fate to help the girl. After nightfall he approached the freshly dug grave, attempting to speak with Danny.

“Mr. Defiance,” he whispered. “Daniel,” he tried again, stronger. “Danny,” he then said, with a quick response.

“Yeah?” came a steady but muffled voice. “Is this the Lord?”

“No Daniel… Danny. This is Peter SoSo. You once unclogged my commode… when it was running over. The Grand Lapara Hotel. Room 401. Remember? I’m a merman, if that helps. A former carnie.”

“Yes, I remember. How’s that problem doing? Does it still flush cleanly? You may have to change the piping beneath the floor eventually.” There was a pause. The sound of night bugs began again. Then: “You call me first if you have problems, see. I’ll fix you up.”

Peter SoSo measured the spirit he was dealing with. Not uncommon — the recently departed didn’t quite understand the gravity of their situation yet.

“Yes, I will… definite-ly do that Danny,” he assuaged. “You did a good job before. I’ll remember you. You were… are a fine plumber.”

“Thank you. I am very tired. If you will go away now please.”

—–

So Peter SoSo understood that Danny *could* be brought back if the powers that be were willing. He was very close still. Just down in the grave. Itching to get back to work. He might be able to convince them. Peter made a visit to Pervimus Rex over at the local Gathering Bar just across the mountain range.

“Astarte, eh?” spoke the Northeast District’s judger of souls, sipping on smoking hot coffee. He breathed deep from the aroma. “Yeah, we’ve had trouble in that sim. Demons posing as regular avatars and stealing souls before their time is up. Okay, we’ll agree to send him back. But you’ll have to pay the delivery fee still. 1200 lindens.”

A poorer but smiling Peter then gladly took his leave of the stench filled bar. He’s sure he made the right decision.

Leave a comment

Filed under *Second Life, Heterocera, Lapara, Morrison, Uncategorized

Danny’s Magical Room

“Everybody in town will die now, Danny. They’ll all come here.”

“Cool. Where’s James Dean?”

Leave a comment

Filed under *Second Life, collage, Heterocera, Lapara, Morrison, Uncategorized