Category Archives: 0111

AC/DC

“Do you realize if we get married, Biff, that I’d be June Carter? We’d have to do it in Franklin KY again, then. Just like before. Do you feel like a Man in Black, Biff? You’re almost dressed as one.” She kept strumming her punk song while talking and he kept picking his roots based music one while silent. But somehow, despite the 2 wildly disparate genres involved, the tunes blended perfectly with each other. June Bug Johnston made sure of that with the spell that keeps on giving.

“Awesome,” he finally said, paying attention more to the frets than the fretting. He’d have time for that later. Much time. Much later. After all this wore off, the potion.

We’re at what they call Isolation Cabin, but not far away enough from Amiable Proper that you couldn’t sense the corn. Thanksgiving wasn’t that far away either: shucking time. But who would be participating from the small group of villagers and visitors we’ve already met? Certainly not Eddie, Pink’s Edward, who quickly teleported away upon learning that actual work was involved here. The members of the band Batcorn — Jane, Rachel, Reuben, Steuben — would be providing the music so that lets them out I suppose. Christina’s mind was too far gone to chip in much. And Wally would be seething somewhere out of sight, pissed off that the town didn’t want *him* to perform instead of Batcorn. So that leaves, well, Pink herself. And then maybe these 2. And maybe that Pamela, if she’s not merely a dream figure of Pink’s — probably not. But we’ll meet more soon. Better end this post so we can get at that.

“Songs are over, Andrew ‘Biff’ Carter,” she said, putting away the guitars back inside the bench. “Time for bed again.”

“Where’s — my tractor?” he asked, partially out of the trance since the music was over but quickly put back under inside.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re free of that old clunker now, along with your clunker of a family, Biff. You have me now. *Now*. Inside with you you old shucker,” and she slapped his buttocks to get his big feet started in the right direction.

We’ve answered the part about Biff at least and, by default, June. Formerly Jane as in Plain before she turned herself into a witch.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0111, Kentucky, Teepot+

triad

“I’m glad we switched places so that my blue side is showing,” spoke Vain and Artery Boy, our Gill Alex, over to lover and perhaps brother (from another mother) Rock Ramby, formerly of Chaucey. Always vain, this tri-colored avatar is, wanting to show his best side to the outside world, the camera, the 4th wall which both knew was always there when they appeared in these here photo-novels. Self-awareness of sorts, if only in a narcissistic way. “I’m sorry,” Vain and Artery Boy continued, “if that particular side reminds you of my old lover, the Blue Berry Girl we’ve been talking about so much recently. I wish her well,” he spoke huskily, adapting to the ocean air at last, “but it’s over, done, kaput. We will probably never speak to each other again.”

Rock took it all in. He knew they were here to look for a knob, and not necessarily his, although it does involve rocks, as in a Rocky knob. Just over there somewhere in Big Sandy, just out of sight from their perspective on the starboard side of the USS Galaxy, draw distance extended to the max while they were sitting here and not experiencing any lag through movement. If only they had Mrs. Ordinary’s pricey, fancy schmancy long seeing eyes it might be spotted. Still… soon enough. Mrs. Ordinary was a friend and she lived right below it. Vain and Artery Boy just had to ditch Blue Berry Girl, probably crying her own eyes out in her room somewhere across from them, he imagined. But in actuality, she was quite relieved of the unburdening. She’d met someone else too, a new person and not an old love in his case. Chaucey (there’s that name again). Also known as Bill Ups I believe. I’ll check asap.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0111, Bellisaria, Sandfly

eleven

“… closed for installation,” she reads just outside the property lines. And she was so looking forward to viewing art in one of the few “original” Bellissaria galleries left. She checks parcel details. Owned by Emerald, an alt of Diamond, so still the same as before. The avatar also owns property in Blung, oddly enough, which could be a past verb of bling if it were such, as in jewelry, as in, often, diamonds. You have to pay attention to synchy stuff like this, especially in synch friendly Our Second Lyfe. She remembers first visiting this gallery in July 2019 when it was presenting an exhibition celebrating the 50th Anniversary of Apollo 11’s moon landing.

https://modemworld.me/2019/07/16/celebrating-apollo-11-in-second-life-and-sansar/

Prism decides to explore around the area a bit since she’s here, hating to waste such a long trip, and automatically heads toward the mountains instead of the coast, as is her wont. Let’s follow her there…

Cool! she thinks, going further in and up. Bucolic!

Winding around, she doesn’t want to go back to pavement and thus turns right on this ridge that eventually leads her to a mountain where a man called Tom. We’ve been here before.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0111, Bellisaria, Western Hills

00380111

“Don’t you remember? There should have been 2 explosive fires, larger and smaller, burning downtown before the change of INGO back to pre-film INGSOC. Can’t you recall?”

But Patient 00 Mr. Beech changed as well that day, becoming disambiguated in the resulting Endless Window.

—–

“Right there in the cartoon overlapped with the man,” Hucka D. continued with the Silverton collage analysis in the recently reset up Bogota Gallery on my new-ish Nautilus property, Barry De Boy right by her side as it was these days — changed as well. “Osseo,” she read. “Happy Motoring. Ossemotor.”

“I’ll have to pack first,” I said grumpily, unhappy about the needed travel.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0111, Jeogeot, Lower Austra, Nautilus, NWES Island, Wild West

broken cowboy

So here it is, thought Barry DeBoy, out of the hotel and its Duck and back on the plains, thankfully. To find the actual Void.

“On your right!” shouts passing biker Johnny Cage. But there was only left. Collision. KaBAMM!

Mission accomplished well enough, as he checked. Johnny will be able to afford pheasant tonight. Barry: back to Duck.

—–

“It hurts soo bad, Hucka Doobie.”

“There, there,” she consoled, reaching over and patting his remaining good arm. “The doctor said it will take days, even months.”

“Must… get… back, ahh.” He collapses in pain. Hucka D. knew The Void could wait. But she had to stay with him now fer sure. She looks over. That darn quacker! I’ve got to do something about it once and for all.

There was always… Maw.

—–

She picked up the receiver of the green phone, dialed all the numbers except 4.

“Hallo?”

Turns out she was just downstairs, what are the odds?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0111, Google Street View, Maebaleia/Satori, New Mexico, Pipersville/Sink X

Harrys at Fieldon

Jerry eyed me as I receded and then approached again. “Why do you walk like a duck?” he ask me straightforwardly. I thought about it.

“Because I don’t want anyone to notice.”

“Notice what?” he shot back.

I indicated myself. “Well, *this*.” I wore kids sneakers. I had kids’ hair. But I was no kid. There were butterflies fluttering about in my midsection. But I wasn’t nervous. Except for the revealing, top to bottom.

Jerry — he said his name was Jerry earlier — reached into the News of the World van through an open window, pulled out a file left conveniently on the passenger seat. “I think you’re looking for this.”

—–

Norris was backing trooper car 0407 into its usual spot. Recognizing him (another Harry!), I grasped the file from Jerry’s outstretched arm and went across the parking lot to this new guy on the scene, hoping to get more information. However, my head was turned as I approached the driver’s window by a head on the hood, directly above the word Fidelity. It hit too close to home.

He didn’t ask about the duck walk, even though I approached and receded and approached him as well (I think). “Get in,” he said, but not the one within. The butterflies fluttering about my stomach became real as I realized I was an already cuffed prisoner of the state ready for transport to… somewhere. Jerseyville? Wouldn’t that be appropriate.

“Bring the other head in too while you’re at it,” Interior Norris requested. “And make sure you don’t bend anything in that file. We’ll need both for evidence.” SLAM

I was inside.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0111, Collagesity Fordham-, Lower Austra, Nautilus

Moray effect

The next morning finds her twirling in place while flying, being repeatedly shot by Bob, the son of a fisherman also named Bob who was likewise raised by a fisher named Bob, if not his biological father. Bob Jr. Jr. hopes to break the pattern of slavery to the sea and its cresty, troughy ways by photographing it instead, putting distance between himself and the chaotic waves. “A little to the left,” he requests to the spinning what appears to be a mermaid or flying fish anyways in his eyes, beautiful and even glistening in the rays of the young sun. “That’s it.” Shelley had temporarily forgotten about George. Supposed bestie Debbie and and her own George had urged her to just let go here, be relaxed and free before getting tied down for the rest of her life, probably with kids of her own soon. She didn’t think so. She had other plans.

Just down the docks again:

“Will you look at him over there, snapping away like a turtle. He’ll never escape the sea.”

“Nope,” replied Ben, feeling a nibble. He hoped it wasn’t just another one of those shoes because he was tired of sole food. Heel let it go if so, bite his tongue of the catch to his hungry family. Think that’s it.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0111, Nautilus, NORTH

Jem and… Jim?

“I’m only talking to you through this wall this time. *John*.”

“You know I’m not John. I’m Jim.”

“I bought that *before*. Not now. (longer pause) *John*.”

“Okay, okay,” he relented while still dancing up a storm. Hadn’t rained in Ontario since last Tuesday’s Wednesday. He’s trying to chip in, help out the town where he can. Week before last it was portraitures for the poor, however worthless that was. Then the week before that: free bungee jumps for babies down at the gorge. Rope and elastic was a speciality, but he had many of those. He could compose music too. This was his song he was dancing to. “Rat Infested Jim,” the first single from his critically panned but nevertheless cult hit psychedelic heavy metal album “Alice in Suds”. It’s about a man who turns into a rodent and eats insulation in the walls of houses, focusing on the hottest summer and coldest winter days. The title song and next released single from the album is about a woman who can’t find a towel because of all the bubbles produced from her bath, eventually going blind as a result.

“You know why I’m here.”

Dancing stays steady. “The duck. You think I know where the duck is.”

“Right. Welll?”

“Did you look high? Did you look *while* you’re high? Preferably high as a kite in the hands of an experienced Benjamin Franklin. Like *me*, hehe.”

“Stop the nonsense,” Jem plainly stated, taking a swig of her Stygian to mask another oral fixation. “You know I don’t do that stuff any more. Besides, I don’t have the energy now.” She pivots, peers at him through the opening in the chalkboard bar.

“Like I told you before, I don’t have much time. Not much (sniff), time at all (sniff sniff wipe-nose sniff). Help mee,” she squeaked, desperation in her voice and facial expressions. She wipes her face of tears with her arm, sniffs again, sniffs some more, wipes some more, looks off in the distance all moist eyed and mascara stained.

John took pity on her. He didn’t stop dancing but he was formulating a plan. He knew she met the duck the first time when she was high but that wouldn’t work any longer. They’d have to use the wegee board.

The rain starts. The dance stops. Now on to the next good deed.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0111, Wendy-Ontario-

00330111

“It was the only place I felt really safe in all of Dodgey City: Charlotte’s dust filled attic with the telescope that she often pointed to the Moon, Mars and other heavenly bodies to also escape the stardust glitter all around.”

“Stardust,” said the doctor, now a therapist. “Interesting term. Can you elaborate further?”

—–

“They made… *cartoons* out of me. It was awful.” The sobbing began again. The doctor-therapist offered her another kleenex from the second box used today. “They thought it was *funny* (sob sob sob, blow nose, sob sob, sniff).”

“There there,” said the dr.-therapist. “Take your time.”

“I — (sniff sniff) don’t *want* to go back.”

“No one’s sending you back, Jem. Take your time,” she or he emphasized again. Probably a she… because of the nature of the events that took place there.

“Those cartoons you spoke about,” she started carefully once more. “Did you…”

“*NO*,” stated Jem firmly, guessing what the doctor-therapist was going to ask, an almost prescient moment. And perhaps it was.

The doctor-therapist decided not to bring John L. Brown of the Browns into the picture today. She looks up at the clock, pretends the session is over even though it is 12 till the hour. “That better be it for today. You can take that box home with you.”

“Thank you,” BLOOWWW.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0111, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Towerboro, Wild West

symbol gets literal

“Well? How do you li–?” (*smooch*)

She figured she didn’t have time to waste, plus this is perfect. How did he set this all *up*??

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0111, Frog Isles, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Yd Island