We begin where the last one ended. On a map of Nautilus continent in my Collagesity skybox, the full view this time. Because this go ’round we’re going to tackle the whole thing. We’re not at one of of those nodal photo-novels yet but we’re closing in. Preparations must be made. Alysha jumps off the pin representing NO Tor and proceeds northward, intending to find Ruby the tall, green alien, perhaps Martian but also perhaps not. The qualified doctors would know, but Dr. Mouse the unqualified as it turned out, doesn’t have access to that information, that file. Ruby Alien remains, thus, a…
Category Archives: 0101
“It’s a start.”
“He’s got a bit of, you know…”
“Brain Damage,” Wheeler offered (Wheeler? Is Wheeler still around? Could she just be *Wendy* now?).
“Yeah, like, you know…”
“Syd lower case. Like lo-fi. Hi-fi and lo-fi.”
“Syd, right. Not the other Syd (SID).”
“Well, shall we (begin)…?”
She’d actually been basically in Wallytown for I don’t know how long. Ever since the shower was installed I suppose, curing her — brain damage? Perhaps. Anyway, she was Wendy through and through. Fern Stalin and Lichen Roosevelt stared on, wondering what they had created. Hi-fi.
I can’t say what she did but it was a bad thing and she deserved to be.
“They started by moving independently of each other, he with his lemonade and she with her secret — smile. Schweet. Yelloo.”
“Now you’re just chanting random (Nautilus) sims.”
“Not random, W. Can I call you…?”
“Of course. And, yes, I do have a schweet smile thank you for noticing.”
“Can I see it?”
“So it was this lime colored car, an X 1/9, that started it all.”
“We can go with that. And the No Tor (she urged).
It started ON… the No Tor.”
“Okay let’s go with that (instead).”
It’s just as I suspected. Dopplegangers everywhere, *twins* if you will.
We must follow Tessa to this Castle Town in the South or else: be lost forever. There’s the green ship remaining, a basic duplicate of the one Tessa took to reach her destination. Now is the time…
Devil Dave was waiting. “They have arrived, sir.”
“Thank you, er, Bendy. Bendy is it?”
“Yessir.” Devil Dave thought he was blacker — because of the poster.
Should Toothpick move west to Grimm instead of east to Marwood from his starting point at the Pinemont temple owned by Master Berry? This would cause an alternate path for photo-novel 22, which I guess means the correct path for photo-novel 23. The candle tells him this.
But I don’t think this path should involve Toothpick again. Nor Master Berry, who seems to be the same as MAT (Man About Time). Hmm. Working on it…
“I am alone again, Certain Death.”
“Deaths,” he corrected, staring out at his dancing brethren.
“I just don’t feel very… religious lately, Master Berry.”
“Feel the grass around you, feel the fern, the bamboo, the butterflies, the temple itself.”
“That’s just it. I’m thinking of changing temples.”
“Oh?” Master Berry’s voice was filled with surprise. What temple? He decides to say this aloud. “What temple?”
Toothpick told him. “I believe the sim is called Diamondfyre,” and then beamed a snaggly smile at his *former* master, piece of straw still clutched between two or three remaining teeth. He was free. Maybe. 1/2 and 1/2.
“Time out,” called Jim Peterson playing Master Berry. “I thought we talked about this.”
“She finds a heart that is a yoyo in a hotel plaza, Hucka Doobie. Yoko is close to yoyo.”
“I’m going to walk right over to that phone and make a call. I can’t find that girl of mine *anywhere* in this confounded town. Alleys go this way, pathways go that way. It’s like a maze!”
Amazing, thought Yoko Ona from the other side. This must be one of John’s friends!
“Oh. You using the booth?” he asked after spotting her.
No, I’ll fix that. She rewinds time.
Zach Black walks up to the phone with Yoko Ona on the other side. He doesn’t spot her, as if she’s invisible. He picks up the receiver. He can’t remember the exact number so he presses in all of ’em, in a row. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 and 0 to end. That should do it, he thinks. It rings on the other side.
“Hello?” Feminine voice, good. No new jack-ass boyfriend to deal with, perhaps.
“Audrey?” he speaks into the receiver with his cool cat voice.
“Yes?” Cool cat back at him.
In another part of town, David A.B. was talking to Linda Halsey about that failed transformation attempt over in Urqhart where she hails from. “Sorry about that,” he says to her in a conciliatory way. “We will try harder next time.”
What about *my* transformation, unobserved Yoko Ona thinks in a neighboring chair.
And then she spots *another* of herself walking against a rock textured wall across the street. How many are there??
She often thought back to that day later on. “What are you doing here in Storybrook, sir, if I may be so bold to ask?” A person of color in Storybrook was unusual. She’d only seen a handful in her 13 years of growing up here.
“I’m looking for something,” came the cold, monotoned response of Arthur Kill, shoes shined until the starless void within was revealed again. “It could be right behind me for all I know,” but he then didn’t look over his shoulder to find the accidental truth he spoke.
The girl? Her friends called her Pink, because she always was. Actual name: Marsha Krakow. And she’s most likely the next star in our Collagesity series of photo-novels, this here being the start of the 19th.
In kin with the now deceased Cpt. Americus, she liked drumsticks, usually holding 2 at a time in this case. Double the fun.
“Can I help you with that tire, Lester?”
“No I’m good Marsha,” came the friendly response between screws. Lester was a friend but not a good friend. She let the “Marsha” appellation go with him. And with most people. But to her good friends, the *closest* ones, and they numbered three, it was always “Pink” or suffer the consequences. She had likewise despised first names to hurl back at them — Betty, James, Clovis — if they slipped. For all of them had nicknames based on color. It was a game that went back to when they were all kids growing up side by side by side with each other on Arnold Lane. Right down there…
Four houses in a row.
Back to the drumsticks…
She often forgot she was holding them for hours after a session.