Category Archives: 0108
TOM — Top Of Mountain — revisited/ ring found
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0108, Blue Mountain, City Park
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“Heyy. Howdy! Welcome to 108. You must be the Golden Girl I’ve heard about.”
“Well,” I said. “My hair is golden for sure. Some say dirty blonde but I like the metal.”
“Who doesn’t, who doesn’t? Come on in. I have *so* many things to show you, Golden Girl! Mineral. Plant. Animal. You name it!”
“I think you just did.”
“Hee hee, you’re a bright one. A big bright piece of shinyy gold, yeahh.” He waves without speaking again. He’s fading.
—–
“I found this after the dream. He must have been from the Moon.”
“Or the *Moon* of the Moon,” spoke the old hag more wisely than me, per usual. Not a golden girl any longer but, ooh, once upon a time…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0108, Lower Austra, Wild West
Aztec warrior (photo by Barry DeBoy, present)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0108, Bogota, collages 2d, New Mexico, Willow Hill
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After finding out which one, Dr. Mouse has him lay on a gurney ready to go deeper into the bowels of the place.
“All the way back, Mr. Johnston,” Nurse Porcupeople urged. “I have you.”
“Wheel him away,” said Mouse, studying the newest form and seeing it is good. Ready for delivery.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0108, Nautilus, NORTH, Upper Austra
Every Man’s Land
“You again (!).”
“Yeah? What’ll it be?”
“What’ll what be?”
“Red or blue, bud. Good or evil I suppose. Dunno, don’t care. But you gotta choose to play,” he insisted.
“No,” said Newt. “You don’t understand. I’m just here to talk about Squared Root City with someone. Why this place — Ontario — and that place don’t get along, see.”
The fellow I’ve already seen several times in Ontario, including the groundside gun store where Arthur Kill was killed with a bullet to the heart by grown up Tessa at the end of the last photo-novel, just scratches his head. “Dunno anything about that. You might have to see the Mayor. Or even higher.”
“Mayor?” Newt parroted. “Higher?”
“Yeah, the King of course. I don’t know anything about this Root Squared City,” he insisted.
“Squared Root City,” Newt quickly corrected, but then thought about it. 3.16 x 3.16 is essentially 10, which is perfection (to us Pythagorean related TILERs). But then 3.16 is also pretty close to the circumference of a circle with a diameter of 1, and, in the case of City Park, County Park, Country Park, even closer. 3.14 to 3.15, maybe even 3.16 again. They are coded as All Ears because if Mickey Mouse’s face was turned into a matching circular ear it would exactly fit between all 3, copyright issues forever solved.
“I know this is space,” he continued, seeing the thoughtful look on Newt’s face, “but you can’t space out here. You gotta play or you gotta go. Orders.”
“Of who?”
“Dunno. Just came with the instructions.”
“Who do you work for?” The gun shop employee now space game arcade employee scratches his head again. “You gotta leave,” he insisted, and pointed to the lightsaber sign.
“I know I know,” said Newt, preparing to explore the rest of this space station. But first he had to ask permission to look out the window for a moment at all those glorious stars, perhaps some galaxies mixed in.
“Sure I suppose. 5 minutes. But then…”
“Gotta go, I get it.”
He walked toward the nearest window, stared out. Many of the illuminated dots were moving. Could these be spaceships? Newt pondered. And the colors (!). Not just white, but pink blue yellow. He could stare at it for days but he only had minutes, seconds now.
“Time’s up, bud,” he says oh too soon. But surely there will be other windows around the station with just as good a view, maybe better.
“Can I ask your name?” he said before leaving.
“Jack,” came the answer back. “Now… please.” He indicated the door.
“Goodbye Jack,” Newt said while walking out, knowing there was something to that name. Because, in some circles, perhaps the ones we just talked about, Jack was code for clone.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0108, Blue Mountain, City Park, Country Park, County Park, Wendy-Ontario-
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The elimination of George.
Harrison remains. *Barely*.
“They got his knee, which knocked out the rest of his leg — sorry. A thumb was missing from the hand but they were able to regrow it with the intact others. Don’t ask about the procedure. It’s messy, complicated. But without that hand, that regrowth…”
“He wouldn’t be able to play the guitar,” the other in the room finished for Dr. Diper, fresh from the surgery. “Thank you.”
“The red and green almost got him this time,” warned the doctor. “Best not to send him back out to war.”
“Oh, we won’t. Denisce just made a bad decision sending him over there. It’s in her name, you know, bad and good.”
The doctor paused with this, then said, “oh yeah,” as he got it. “Denisce. I forgot it could be spelled that way.”
“Almost,” replied the other. Probably Marty at this point, since he’s so concerned with the hand and its dexterity. “Will he lose any chords? I don’t mean vocal chords obviously (Dr. Diper snickers here, since both knew the head wasn’t involved — nice break in the seriousness) but guitar chords. Can… will he be able to play…”
“All your songs,” the doctor finishes a sentence in turn. Like tennis they were this day, battering concerns back and forth across a net that is the separation between people. Good and bad. Sometimes it’s absolutely necessary. “Wellll.”
Nurse Jem comes in, celebratory drinks in hand. Vodka for Diper and a, let’s see, Russian Roulette for Marty, a new drink he claimed to have concocted on the spot back at the hotel after the San Francisco concert in Candlestick Park, knocking it out alongside a couple of new ditties: the embryonic form of “Back in the USSR” and the unreleased and seldom heard “Moby Prick”. A baad song, Georgge Martin proclaimed upon hearing it back in England. “Hey, we’re the f-ing Beetles, Martin. Leave us alone!” exclaimed Marty after the judgment, but then the others admitted it was sour instead of sweet too and he let the matter drop, song unrefined and left in a raw, unprocessed form. They all secretly felt it was about Marty and his character, though, but to voice this out loud would be character assassination. He was just that much of a prick. At the time — he mellowed out later. After he died.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0108, Canada, Canada/Picturetown, Canada/Tungaska, Jeogeot, Towerboro
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It looks like a major question in the division of Lower Austra from the rest of Nautilus is the status of the Frog Islands, we’ll call them for now, beginning, west to east, with Brork, *Froog*, and Stoogle. Right now, Dickie Doom is in Stoogle, looking at a map that seems to indicate, with its drawn yellow line, the Frog Islands are part of larger Yd Island where we’ve just been through (wife? sister?) Debbie Doom. We’ll get back to her story in just a moment.
But then the picture changes and we are confused again. The Frog Islands seem to move through space and time.
Maybe it’s a situation of turning a frog into a prince again like in those other fairy tales.
Dickie Doom stands up. And spots another triangle.
Not bad.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0108, Collagesity Fordham-, Frog Isles, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Yd Island
spoiled?
“Why are you here, Big Red? Can you not find the litter box again? I told you. Today is the 5th so you turn left at the stairs. If it was the 4th you’d turn right. You understand? Even and odd, Big Red. Just like we talked about. And then the 3rd Sunday’s Monday… but no need to complicate matters right now. Can you hold it in a bit more… until I guide you down the hall past the tailors to the correct room? Thanks for your patience. No need to pull out lumber or anything.” She was starting to sweat. A.B. Normal was influencing the future as well as the past too. He needs to merge with my 1/2 brother’s body and pronto! Besides: I get lonely. She concedes.
“Alright Big Red. Just this *one* time.”
“Ma – ma,” he squeals in joy while moving toward the east that was the west just yesterday. He’ll pick it up. Or not. Hopefully won’t matter soon.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0108, Mountain Lake, Omega
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He stares from the rock while listening to rock. *His* rock. Can he actually listen to what The Mann says this time?
From this perch, he’s looking for the plane or at least the boat, but they weren’t that easily spotted. The pink plane may be totally out of sight (man). The small boat may *just* be visible, he determines. Another floater. Another 6 inches. If he could just fix the engine and move it away from here all would be well. The boy might be his.
—–
It was time for Zach Black and Lena Horned to leave this place. The Maebaleia red white and blue battle flag keeps flapping and slapping, ouch ouch ouch. Duty calls; Nautilus continent tour aborted. The red hand scratches.
Lena Horned takes one last float like the boy and is gone.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0108, Nautilus, Southwestern
Sunklands 