Category Archives: 0117

meteor from space

“Maybe there are good Boos and bad Boos,” offered up Harrison Ford Jett, still learning about and absorbing the impach. His precious Bluebird!

“Maybe,” said back brilliant Fern Stalin, his counterpart, his mentor for tonight. But she kept thinking of Mistery Island and how to get back there. “You better get back to her; she’ll be waiting. And you better cook up a pretty good explanation why you suddenly had to leave her side. And don’t mention Boos!”

“Okay.” They split after that, not leaving any firm plans for a future rendezvous. It’s possible, Fern realized, that she’d seen the last of Harrison. Or at least those apples. Decision paths lie just ahead…

“Don’t be a stranger,” she cryptically ended and was gone.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0117, collages 2d, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

monumental

“If I had wings like this I could do a lot better. But instead: hooves. *Horns*.”

Recently deceased Jer Ronamy remained confused. Was he or was he not talking to God?

—–

They buried him in the new section of the cemetery dedicated to non-Hollywood stars, because Jer Ronamy, ex 5’5″ star guard for the local pro high school team the Bottle Crunchers, certainly wasn’t Hollywood big, like Frank Baum or John Ritter or something. His family couldn’t even afford a tombstone, although they promised to purchase one later as soon as Uncle Stan’s airport scheme deal came through. Probably isn’t going to happen, understands Jer Ronamy standing beside his own grave as a disembodied spirit after everyone had left, still clinging to form but soon to give it up. Hummy the Hummingbird accompanied him on his visit, who was sent by the ones taking orders from the deer we just saw up above. Or make that down below?

“Can we go visit Beethoven’s grave while we’re here?” requested trilling Hummy. “I don’t get out that much; want to, er, *kill* as much time as possible before going back in.”

“Sure, sure.” He wasn’t ready to go back either. He still liked the feel of this body, despite the added weight. He died way too young. He heaves a big sigh and follows Hummy over to the actual, famous people, the ones with tombstones.

*Only nine symphonies,” laments the colorful, vibrating bird. “Should have been 19.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0117, Europe, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^

00260117

The lime colored jogger man was running fast past the collapsed garage, as he should. I checked streetview history. The structure was intact as of 3 years ago. Was it a sign from the missing plane? Looking at the turned around car, there seemed to be a message about coming and going, and the past which is the future, Janus faced again. Disaster and recovery.

I moved past the jogger who was rapidly going backwards. I decided to shoot him a bird (like Superman), just to see his reaction. Then I realized his open mouthed response happened before the raised finger. I would get no real answers from anyone along this highway all the way up to India. I instead had to find a side road, a place of reset. Reset? I meant rest. Or did I?

To flip the cards a bit, when I arrived in India, New Delhi first, I realized all the side roads were named after Indian tribes, American confused with Asian (or something), and all off *Indian* Lake Road. And for the life of me I couldn’t find any lake of that name on streetview, the map, a gazetteer — anywhere. Still looking for res(e)t, I passed Comanche, Shawnee, Cherokee, Pawnee without any possibility of a pull over. Peering down at the end of Cherokee I may have seen a spirit but I wasn’t sure — no way to check. And where was my body? Delhi was still waiting ahead of me but my hopes for a resolution to this mystery were quickly dimming. Or diminishing.

When I crossed the train tracks on the other side of Delhi I knew I was done with this leg of my journey. Onward to Section 2!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0117, Illinois

separate

Later (or was it earlier?) he was looking at a portrait in one of the city galleries and recognized what he thought were the models. “Wheeler,” he muttered aloud, seeing the Triune that would always rule him. If he didn’t have Collagesity. He *must* hold onto Collagesity. He’ll get the crime spree under control. April Mae Flowers, yes, accomplished the actual homicides, he tried to assure himself. Didn’t work. He knew there were at least 5 active criminals in town (because of the fingerprince), despite only 3 registered residents so far. Danny, who tried to kill *him*, was, true, cleaning out his trailer, getting ready for banishment to… somewhere, Jeffrie Phillips hadn’t decided. Some place that has a lot of broken bathrooms, he he he. Or maybe where they all *worked*, ha ha ha, so he won’t have anything to do. Yes, Hell can be a place of complete, utter boredom too, he realized in the moment. So can Heaven — Heaven and Hell both… which means probably neither exists.

He must think of religion more. There are currently at least 3 active churches in town, or will be — they’re *built* is what I mean. Rezzed. There’s, obviously, the Temple of TILE, and Man About Town — MAT — certainly hasn’t given up on reactivating the old Collagesity ruling deity Carrcassonnee still up on the 3rd floor there, especially since (her replacement) Wheeler seems to be out of the picture. But all he can get out of her still is, “Iiiiiiiiii,” which may mean an uncompleted sentence about herself or maybe the “eye” that dominates her appearance. The eye is broke, he remembers — MAT told him that. That’s the 7th beyond the “unconscious” 6 prims of the body. That is the paradox of the 7 and the 6, the Sepisexton Enigma he termed it at another time. Wacky ol’ MAT, Jeffrie thinks. He’ll always be between one thing or another because of his non-fixed, variable nature. And he’ll probably never get Carrcassonnee to utter anything again except that one word, that one letter perhaps.

He looks again at the picture in the gallery and out of his thoughts. He decides (this must be later, then) that he’ll talk Charlene the Punk out of coming to Collagesity, if she hasn’t already decided herself. She has her business here, and can serve omelettes and other breakfast items in an untimely fashion. No doubt the local residents are use to such lags — heck, they may not even think about them much anymore. Like a fish living in water.

What he could even do is drop mention of Bad Kitten/Zado, Elsa, Darlene, and probably another one or two or three he isn’t thinking about. That’ll keep her here, he assumes. But he can always visit. Often. As often as all the others will allow.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0117, Neptune, NWES Island^

husband

She clung tight to the back of a giant white bunny as he approached. She’d spotted the cursed, bright red cross on the chess first. Axis! Why is Opp wearing that outfit of all things? And here of all spots! The place where I was… well, *killed*. In a strong variant reality at least.

“Hi!” spoke Opp from the other side in a somewhat muffled voice. “I’m here with the outfit I promised — what’s up *today*?”

So it *is* Axis, Wheeler/Wendy realizes about the dark figure slowly — fortunately — making his way up the slippery white slope. Two steps forward, one step back — repeat. She drops from her “hidden goth” position on the bunny to the snowy ground; tells present lover Opp wearing a “Giant for a Day” t-shirt to zip it behind a matching mask. “What’s going on?” he whispers over. They rendezvous about every day this time. He was just honing in on her location, as she allows.

Wheeler/Wendy points around the rabbit they then huddle behind. Opp sees him too.

“I thought he was busy playing God over in that paper city,” responded Tropp, just as scared as Wheeler/Wendy now.

“Apparently not.” She considers the day and then rejects the theory. Not the anniversary of her death. That was February. Axis wasn’t here for that.

“Is he, I don’t know, playing a game of chest with us? You know he always makes the first move, even though he’s always black.”

Dark as a swastika, Wheeler/Wendy thinks, watching the inky figure inch forward even slower. The slope was steepening. More good news.

“I will make it up to the castle in my present form,” a determined Axis declares below. “No need to turn into a car or some other silly traction device.” But he slips again in saying this. He’s slowed to a one step forward one step backwards, soon to move in reverse. No, this will not do. A car it must be.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0117, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara^^

her name is Mary York (York, Mary)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0117, Canada/Picturetown

Chef-de…

“You are the station master, sir. You must know something.”

“I am… The Devil.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0117, Iris^

cube

New Nun switched from the red to the gray book in front of Big Dick’s Halfway Inn and realized something was late. Really late, like 20 years. Red across the road was warning from the past, kind of Dixie but also not.

Bullfrog saw the same thing in X City last year. Bullfrog didn’t live long after that, done in by a red hatted crazy chick in the formerly “Mild East” part of NWES City.

Speaking of which…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0117, Apple's Orchard, Cassandra City^, Jeogeot^^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, NWES Island^, X-City^

03

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0117, Heartsdale^^

section’s end

“Golly,” the Loch Ness Monster said when surfacing and checking the name on the train station. “It *does* have an extra ‘u’, hmph. I’ve been wrong all this time!”

And observing Arthur Kill up on the hill lost his life because of it, *pop*!

“There,” said lego Winfield 5 to husband-wife and fellow lego Winnie, smoking gun in hand. “That should do it.” Both watched the body continue to tumble down down down toward the Urq*u*hart Castle.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0117, Corsica^^, Scotland Highlands