Category Archives: 0107

Close enough.

A girl within. Looks like Jill Valentine but it’s not. And I’ve run into another girl named Valentine recently. Can’t remember where…

Oh, of course: *Faye* Valentine. With the gun. On the *other* Diagonal we’re currently examining.

Cowboy Bebop. Mimosa Lanes. Ur-parents. Still guiding (“We: here”). Hoooome cooking, Andy Griffith NC style.

—–

Marion “Star” Harding, cowboy for life, ponders the death of his lover, his *director*, in that awful explosion over in Paper-Soap. Oh Heidi — or whatever your actual name was — I will miss you deeply. I will miss the *money* coming in, because I was one of your favorites. You cast me in every film you directed, and even though I didn’t get every part (too obvious!), I got a good heap of ’em. We were together tonight, albeit briefly.

All we have are memories.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0107, Cassandra City^, Heterocera^^, Lower Austra^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^

visitors

“What’s your name, stranger?” Stu (today) Umbriel was checking out the new bar in town, this *Dinah’s*, switched from Moe’s. Moe wasn’t around any longer.

“You can just call me… Windmill Man.”

Stu looked over again with this, noted the propeller beanie on his balding skull. “Hmmm,” he thought internally. “Cool,” he said externally. “My aunt lived in a windmill.”

“So do I,” the stranger shot back, and took a long hard drink of his jungle juice produced by bartender Stumpy (hi Stumpy!) just seconds before, emptying the 1/2 coconut. “Next!” he called over to him, clanking the hollow object on the counter loudly. He didn’t even have time to wash his hands.

—–

A mysterious fern floated into town, hoping to take over someone’s mind.

No, not that one, although that’s also a fern and also floated into town. Just chance (insert nervous laugh). We’re talking about Fern Stalin, who came in on a Messenger Featherfloater from over in Brilliant, one of the most interesting rim islands of Maebaleia along with its twin of sorts: Mistery, the name a combination of mystery and misery. And it was! We should return.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0107, Paper Soap

center star

“Kolya *does* rule this land. It’s as if it all takes place in his rain damaged head.”

“Upper part,” elaborates [delete name]. “The lower still belongs to bottles.”

“Okay,” I responded, happy for the half.

—–

“I need to get out of here, sir. I’ve tried air, I’ve tried water. I’ve even tried land.”

The old man chuckled. “You’re a funny one, Kolya. Drinking from a bottle. Talking about *leaving* here, heh. Why would anyone want to exit such peace and harmony? You’ve seen the waterfall that rules us all. We’re all under the umbrellas under the rainbow, safe and sound. Mama’s home. Good cook’n.” Marvin Baggy licks his lips and pats his belly satisfactorily here, then kicks his feet out, props them against the white porch railing of the ranger tower that has become a popular hangout for the old and feeble. Someone further north — or perhaps east — told Kolya he could get answers here. Maybe they were pulling a prank on him, especially since they told him to make sure to drink out of a bottle down there (or over there) and not a can. “That’ll give you away,” the man said to him, or perhaps it was a woman. A tomboy, yes, that was it, a grown up tomboy, Asian in race if not complexion, which was instead red.

“Ahh, I feel sorry for ya, stranger,” admitted the geezer on the porch of the tower, waiting for the others to show up. Bingo night tonight, and afterwards some kind of rave I’m sure. Always is. Sometimes the young’n’s (as they call them; some: whippersnappers) down at the bar have to complain about the noise and the lateness of it. Ahh, yes. Salty Bobs’ a sleepy place in comparison, full of stoners taking naps and druggies shooting craps. Dice are not that noisy if covered with fuzz, which they always are soas not to wake the stoners. Originally designed to dangle from the rear view mirror of your car, the ornaments have moved inside and reacquired their original purpose, shrunk down a bit in the process.

“Someone’s coming down from the old house, Nick,” spoke Gotham on the couch, probably already stoned out of his mind and thus the lack of a joint or bong. “I can *feel* it.” He lifts his arms in the air while still reclining, much like a clairvoyant does just before channeling a spirit hovering somewhere nearby, ready to enter the body. Gotham’s own body starts convulsing. It worked! He quietens down; he stares glazy eyed at the roof of the establishment, ignoring the sea barnacles and peering directly into the great beyond.

Nick Barton looks over, notices the grey in his beard. “Isn’t it about time you moved up the hill to the old folk’s place and livened up a bit? You’ll turn into a corpse just laying there like that!” Nick flushes and turns toward the crappers on the other side, emitting a small “sorry” for shouting.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0107, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^

Gee

He looked at the book, the book looked at he.

—–

“So describe this woman,” Chef-inspector Petty requested, calm and eating peanuts out of an imaginary bag as usual. He’d been observing the developing situation for a while. The yells of “Tom” from Cory, the hysterics of Jen Saunders yesterday, the tripping over the Asian girl with the dull red book, knocking it on the floor to a specific page he noticed. He flipped 10 and noticed again, then. Anderson County — mention of Anderson. And then the crash. And then the turtle from the ditch, dragged back in by a tiny witch. It was all adding up to something, perhaps 45.

“It *wasn’t* a *woman*,” still a bit discombobulated Jen Saunders exasperated. “I *told* you. It was a plane. Or a missing plane.”

“How many on board when it crashed?” Here he obviously thought of her crashing into oh so yelling Cory.

“It *didn’t* crash. All passengers arrived at Dehli or New Dehli, bodies intact, if not wits.” She shakes her head, as if correcting something loose in it. “Oh, yes, their wits as well. It is as if they never *missed* the plane.”

“You said the plane was full (though).”

“The plane *was* full.” Head shaking again. “Oh, I see. No they didn’t realized there was no plane around them, propelling them forward. ‘Not missing’ as in ‘not realizing’, not: missing the plane in the first place.”

“Oh.” He gobbles another imaginary goober. Or not — doesn’t matter. Description is variable, as is space/time itself. He makes a mental note that he might be dealing with an automaton. She hadn’t answered anything about the woman he was *really* interested in, this W.

What should they say next, I ponder.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0107, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

about town 01

“Danny,” MAT invited. “This is the new boss: Jeffrey Phillips. I don’t know if you’ve met…”

“We did,” spoke Danny, freshly emerged from his trailer after the knocking at the door. Mop and plunger in hand, he was about ready to go clean the bathrooms on the floor below anyway. He was fully dressed. For a change.

Jeffrey Phillips couldn’t remember meeting Danny before but let it, once more, pass. He began to worry about his memory. And the incident at the library that didn’t take place. His head spun round and round. He woke up. MAT was at the door, ready to take him to another door: that of Danny’s trailer attached to the back side of Fal Mouth Moon, the largest gallery in town and perhaps the largest building, if that wasn’t the Blue Feather, Jeffrey’s new home. Will he stay alone there? He snickers internally at the thought. Of course he won’t be alone. He wasn’t alone before and he certainly won’t now, what with his new position of power. He’ll think about that later: back to the issue at hand. He shakes Danny’s hand but Danny doesn’t shake as hard back. Danny has reservations about the new leader. He thought it should be Man About Time himself. He decides to ask. Best to have it out in the open.

Both look at him when he states his preference. “I’ve known MAT for quite some time now,” he continues. “He’s always been fair to me; got me this great gig at the Fal Mouth Moon, and then got me returned real quick when I goofed up over…” Danny stopped. He didn’t want to tell Jeffrey about the art theft right now. He looked at MAT for clues how to proceed. MAT arched his eyebrows back, indicating he was going too far. The new ruler is *right here*, he could hear him think. *Behave* yourself.

So he didn’t mention that MAT had more blog posts to his credit than Jeffrey Phillips, he didn’t mention the womanizing (he’d seen Jeffrey Phillips twice, once with Charlene the Punk and the other with Lois who replaced Charlene, who then replaced Lois… and on it goes… who is he with now?).

“Next up is Roger Pine Ridge,” spoke MAT after they had moved past Danny. But MAT forgot that they didn’t have enough prims presently to rezz Roger’s house and allow him to become a citizen of the reborn town again. He was thinking about another time. *This* would be his problem if he were leader, and Baker Bloch and the rest knew it. Danny was just too naive to see.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0107, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

00240107

It was still snowing profusely. Tessa was almost up to her knees in it. She stares at the setting (rising?) sun and wonders what star it is. Arcturus? Could she be home again? No, she realized. Too yellow. Arcturus is an orange giant.

Or was it Aldebaran?

—–

According to her sensors, someone named Sunny who was also a star stood in the shack at the end of the pier over there. She also had a number: 7. She might know. But grandpa always told Tessa not to approach strangers in Our Second Lyfe without good reason. Was this a good reason? And was this even still Our Second Lyfe, a shared virtual reality that is real to us permanently inhabited avatars?

And as I was typing this, Sunnystar7 disappeared, leaving only boomboom 2020 in the sim with her. Well, there was certainly a lot of boom boom last night at the (baker b.) house in reality reality. In bed by 11 but woken up at 12 as the boom booms persisted until 12:30. But what is time in a pandemic. Hard to keep track of the days, with weeks and months ahead. Forget time. Forget them all, even years. 2020 can go to boom boom hell for all she cares. She lost her beloved grandfather!

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0107, Green Yarn

corners

It was kind of irritating how he never wore clothes in the hot tub but octogenarian Drew “Grumpy” Cleveland had information I needed to complete my school project. Pansy Mouse! The mouse history has forgotten. Perhaps I shouldn’t even be writing about it (!). Keep it to myself for later.

“Pansy?” he started after the prompt. “Yeah, I remember Pansy. That was before Mickey. That was before ‘Floydada.'”

What a goldmine!

—–

“That’s very nice, Mortimer. Let’s stop there.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0107, Apple's Orchard, Canada/Tungaska, collages 2d, NWES Island^

Somerset 02

—–

“I can’t steer this thing at all!” purple alien Apples thought while struggling to land his spherical craft amidst the cherry trees atop the western half of Somerset’s Double Mountains.

—–

He walks into his new base, carefully avoiding a rickity looking, boarded up pump well. It’s the little things that often end those of his type, he’s wisely learned down through the centuries. Don’t show off, don’t take chances. Focus laser-like on the task at hand: world domination, ha ha ha.

Apples Too waits pensively at the window.

—–

“Heck of a year so far, eh Apples?” he speaks over. But she had nothing to say, since she knew he felt she was responsible for most of it. Apples was here to take over. Apples Too to her but not to him. Not any more.

“*Now*. Let’s discuss what’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Oh okay.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0107, NWES Island^, Somerset

break


Off to play video games in the Shallows with the boys.


Everyone taking their positions.


And… FIRE!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0107, Heterocera^^, Iris^

Our US

“Do you think Yoko Ona will make it back to the motel, David A.B.?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he waved it off. “SEAN’s here now.”

—–

“And Arkansas right in the middle of things,” a studying SEAN “Green” Penn utters within a secret room behind the motel desk. Clerk Sarah McDooglehan didn’t mind. Since she was a dummy through and through. She’ll come to life soon enough as Yoko’s Cindy A., designer of planes and then murderous rockets. Enough to get the job done. The shot hit both Pipersville and Sink X at once — right in the middle. Just like Arkansas. And Missouri: 1/2 and 1/2.

“Check this out, Green,” spoke Blue from a table also in the room. “Martin Allen. Just like in Floyd County, Kentucky.”

“And Bennett County, SD. And NE. And MS. But everyone knows that has to do with poles. Polar explorers. Like Richard Byrd, except different.”

Jack Blue looked over. She was glad she decided to bring SEAN “Green” Penn back into the picture. Needed tangents. Like Peppi outside. She knew this was a Diamond of a case.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0107, Arkansas, Heartsdale^^, Missouri