Category Archives: 01
basement dwellers
Wrong side of the road.
—–
We watched from afar (right side of road). “This is where I got my butterflies,” she spoke over, hovering beside me. “You can have some too!” I didn’t need that kind of thing. I needed answers.
“Why are we here?” I cut to the chase. “Jeogeot, I mean. I thought Nautilus (continent) was our focus now. But as soon as we abandoned Collagesity it seems the energy drained away from it. So that would be novels 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 focused on that continent. But now…”
“You need to tell *this* tale because no one else will or can. Else… everything lost.”
Middletown, I assumed.
—–
I looked across the small Linden pool of water at the significant amount of land I could rent. I knew it was coming: the unleashing of MOA again. But not yet. Nautilus remains the one, the tentacled sphere locked away down in the castle’s dungeon. If head librarian Miss Ouri hadn’t already destroyed it. Will check as soon as I get back.
—–
No. Still there.
Oh. Hi me.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0105, Jeogeot, Midlands, Nautilus, NORTH, Rooster's Peninsula
middle
Half the audience will be red, the other half blue. But in her purple sock hop outfit singing the right songs she thinks she can make it work. First off: the national anthem. “America the Beautiful”. No one can argue with that choice.
She decides to augment the “purple” in mountain through synthesizer manipulation. Lampton will be more than willing to help, she realizes. He knows the importance of all this too. The manipulation of the people of our great US of A.
Come on back Lemont Sanford (!). Turns out you weren’t killed off after all. Wheeler has that power.
But Duncan Avocado was another story and thus we cut off at the drums. Acapella I presume. Get ready for that augmentation Arthur “Kill van Kull” Lampton!
“Oh beautiful for spacious skies…” Beautiful singing voice. Just beautiful. Get ready.
“For ℘ùℜ℘Îē …”
She keeps singing but she scans the audience for change.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0104, Jeogeot, Towerboro
Top gal
Building numbers the same: too coincidental. This is the neighborhood where I grew up — highlighted in the Oracle as well (Alabama, other states). And *Edward*. Poor Eddy Daigle, Wheeler thinks, purposefully getting his name wrong in honor of cousin Tessie (our Tessa). She “defeated” the pyramid being; sent him out the door without his dunce cap into the world of reality. Although he made a lot of D’s (hence the corner standing), she’s confident that he could work things out; join the land of the living.
She’s got on her retro sock hop outfit to better blend in. Now to see what else is here in this rainbow powered burg.
She checked building after building. The place seems empty. For now.
—–
The next town up and kattycorner: more success.
But can she fit in here?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0103, Jeogeot, Towerboro
WTF
The woods speak once more. A gnome appears high on a local mountain in a place I generically term County Park, a more eastward counterbalance (or countybalance, ha) to our City Park and its Aloha village of toy avatars tucked under a thought-to-be sheltering rock on Mt. Tom. This is a taller mountain by about 500 feet: 4038 to around 3525. Name? Um, let’s leave that for now. Okay, let’s say The Knob. Anyway, the gnome appears off a trail quite a ways up it. Someone would have had to make a pretty good effort to get it there — the figure is a foot tall or close to it. A backpack would have been needed.
Salazar Jack or Jacob Gnome; Harry or Harold the Gnome; another child gnome who we know grows up to be Barry DeBoy; and now this, in a way the most miraculous of all. Is it an indication I should move all my toys from Mt. Tom over to this nearby location? Especially given the presence of a bee hole right on the edge of Aloha, and also mud dauber wasps threatening from above? Something to think about.
If only I could figure out a way to talk to the newly discovered toy avatar. Maybe through Barry? So many questions (as usual).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0102, Blue Mountain, City Park, Country Park, County Park
00340101
“I *know* this person,” thinks Wheeler at the door of the investigator/psychic’s interior office. She’s playing around with forms again, and this one is an extension of her recent consumption of fries with cheese at the nearby Twin Peaks bar and grill. File it under: you are what you eat. She thought she had 30 days before the skin turned green on this freebie avatar she’s attached to the outfit. Not as advertised; no wonder it was a budget item. She’s trying to become — but never mind. It’s not turning out. But that figure on the door (!).
“What was that Mrs. Corn?” Corn? she thinks. A last name? What’s the first? But she knows what it is.
“Oh… nothing. Just staring at the big eye on your door. It reminds me of someone.”
Psychic-detective Roberts pivots toward Mabel (Mabel!). “We’ve been through this.”
The situation changes.
—–
Jack barges in with his recently cleaned shovel. “Ma’am, the corpse is now bur — oh. Sorry. Didn’t know you were with someone.” Why would he? Miss Roberts never has any clients. Except dead ones. But this one appears to be alive. And green! Must be — but it couldn’t. Martian?
“Hi Harry,” he speaks over to the shorter figure standing beside her, also a gnome, also working for the firm.
“Hello Jacob,” as Harold calls Jack, which he doesn’t like but puts up with. Harry’s a nice guy. And a great carpenter. He did a fine job with this coffin. Extra long, but he made it fit.
“Just looking for the case, Mrs. Corn,” Roberts excuses herself to Mabel, now considerably smaller but just as green. Moreso, since she’s now wearing a Hannah Montana lime toned outfit, fresh from a concert at the Rooftop Inn over in mid-town. Where are we, then? The land description mentions an asylum. Is everyone here nuts? Could explain the outfit.
And the book! Just like the one at the newly established Table Room on Rooster’s Peninsula, where I live as a castle dweller, library in the center still. For now. A sprite was looking in it for information about her type, where she comes from, what are her weaknesses. This is Greenleaf, who also shows up in Towerboro standing on a big rock behind Dove, formerly Ivory, but still a sister to Ebony on the giant tree trunk dead in front of her: Deadwood. And the alphabit spread out on the forest floor below them, which they eat with a spoon one by one by one until they reach M, when *they’re* dead. Mmmmmm dead. Thirteenville.
But I feel like I’m needlessly complicating things again. Let’s back up more.
—–
“Okay, Mrs. Daigle. Let me just begin to look for that case we were just talking about. Oh — and Barry? You can take off your pyramid and go home now. I think you’ve learned your lesson well enough, young gnome.”
The striped dunce cap he was wearing! One and the same.
We must follow this figure and see what happens next.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0101, Cable Isle, HANA LEI
00330117
1st (singing): “I’m getting married today, today. I’m getting married…”
2nd (joining in): “I’m getting married today, today. I’m getting married…”
All together: “WE”RE GETTING MARRIED TODAY, TODAY. WE’RE GETTING MARRIED…”
STOP
GO.
Marillia walked out of the mirror to help Denisce. “Oooooo,” she exclaimed, “I can’t *decide* (squeal). The green dress looks oh so *yummy*. But the RED.”
Marillia didn’t tell Denisce the actual colors were aqua and pink. Marillia needed a sale today to probably keep her job. Because marriages were far apart in this here Towerboro, known for its division instead of addition, subtraction instead of multiplication. Yet the figures keep spinning, the numbers keep changing. Her boss Wallace D’ass figures sales have to turn around, law of averages. Love over hate, joy over competition. Substitute bartender Doris might know. If she could pry herself away from the constant soccer and rugby tugs-of-war. Dafney might figure it out. If she could stop thinking of herself and go with a different color.
“Ooooooo. Can’t choose!!” The wedding was called off. To save the business, Marillia married her boss instead. The dick.
—–
Suddenly — just like that — the war was over, and sunshine and happiness returned to formerly dark and dank Towerboro. Vet and alternate substitute bartender Walter Hotdog walks out of apt. 15 looking for his phone so he could tell Doris he loves her.
Mary texts battle scarred Dennis to say she forgives him for Abbie and says she’ll try that thing in the bedroom he wants to do and she’ll even buy the toys for him on the way back from work. Toys, pheh. Crowding in again, but in a good way this time. Jenny tells medal bedecked Builie that she understands now 2 plus 2 equals 4 instead of 5, and that 6×9 will never equal 42.
And Dafney… Dafney…
But let’s move to Charlotte.
“Will you… marry me Charlotte?”
“Is Charlotte a first class hooker?” she answers retired captain-colonel Kurt rhetorically, Dodgey history finally put behind.
Addition: It *was* reconstituted George she married. Who needs clothes when you got each other (*smooch*)!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0117, Jeogeot, Towerboro
00330116
The next day, Dafney met new bestie Jem for a celebratory birthday breakfast at Ted’s Sweet Shop next to the open market. Both had turned 42, years for Dafney and weeks for Jem, since she was a simulacrum, with a much shorter life expectancy than true humans. Thus the strong desire to see the world and not stay in a dead end bookkeeping job in Dodgey City before it’s too late. Plus the lurid cartoons based on her of course that we’re not suppose to talk about or see, orders of her doctor-therapist.
“How’s Jim?” Dafney began the serious talk after the meal was over, flapjacks for Jem and mustard over easy for the yellow one, a canary today, a freebird. She’s heard that 42 is the year you learn about everything and anything, with no more “mine over here” and “yours over there.” Everything blends, everything rotates around each other, like 6 is the opposite side of 9, the same figure. She’ll start with Jem — they will be as one today.
“Jem’s fine,” Jem speaks in the third person about herself. “I’m here aren’t I? Eating breakfast with you. I probably have 60 good days left for me.”
“No — *Jim*,” insisted Dafney. “The Brown one. Like I’m yellow.”
“I don’t know about Jim, but *John* can go to hell for all I care (!)” He was the one who published the cartoons. Jim is his twin brother. John is spelled with an L, Jim with an A. Both stand for nothing, which is of course the opposite of everything. They suck in life just as much as Dafney exudes it, Jem thinks here, glad for their friendship.
“I’m… sorry.” Dafney begins to cry. Or is it laugh. She searches for the phone again, determined to call Redbird or text Bluebird to see which one.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0116, Jeogeot, Towerboro
00330115
Some say the name Dafney originates from Daffodil, others from Daffy Duck of Bugs Bunny fame. All because of her love of yellow, as in scarves, as in pocketbooks, as in hair. She’s dated both Redbird (Smith) and Bluebird (Jones) in the past. Now she prefers neutral — yellow in her case — although Redbird will still call her up to tell one of his patented, on-the-spot off-color jokes that always makes her laugh. Bluebird: so serious in contrast, a true philosopher/metaphysician. He prefers keeping in touch with writing, notes scattered here and there through town in places he knows she’ll frequent. Texts too; often makes her cry they’re so deep. Dafney is hard to forgot, hard to get out of your mind once she’s in there. If only she could find a phone in her glaringly yellow pocketbook, a pen and pad perhaps, to communicate back her love for the two, even though she must remain in-between and unavailable. Like many single women her age, she’s holding out for The One. 41 today. 42 tomorrow. Everything cannot be known.
George is here if you need him, ma’am. A safety net. Still looking for his clothes.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0115, Jeogeot, Towerboro
00330114
Cardinal decided to quit her job in the wine selling business and instead work for her brother Redbird making sandwiches more in the heart of the village, turning her chronic sour expression not sweet but at least neutral. Sometimes she could crack a smile now, like when Redbird made one of those off-color jokes. No color — that was the key. Let’s listen in…
“Alright, Little Jack. Time to choose. White meat or red meat?”
Oh boy, Cardinal thought, here we go again.
On top of everything, the boy had to have a little whine before deciding.
“That baby need a corking!” her dough rolling brother expressed over his shoulder in the middle of it, breaking the spell. Good ol’ Redbird, she thought while grinning. White it is.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0114, Jeogeot, Towerboro
Sunklands 