Category Archives: 0206

January 7, 2021 · 7:31 am

bigger gun

I had lost a toe. I had lost a hand. My knee was totally banged up, perhaps beyond repair. I was bleeding out. The Former Soviet Union looked on, hopeless to help. I lie in the middle of a swamp with no easy access, none at all.

Little Oakley Annie stood above me, towering for the moment; Giant for a day. In my dying vision I imagined her removing her face to reveal a man’s inside, with a mouthful of gold capped teeth. I remember the teeth vividly, because that’s the first thing I saw when I entered Heaven. A person smiling, with the teeth whiting out. It was the former wife of the mayor of Swamp Fox, greeting me at the gate. I was home.

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November 22, 2020 · 10:39 am

Blue Feather meeting 02

Grassy produces his gifts: 1st, an Iris lantern representing the sim Sunklands Institute just left and Grassy’s home still. “I miss you over there!” he adds while shedding a tear or three from his wonky eyes with black, ping pong ball type pupils darting all over the place.

“Well, we’ll miss you Grassy. But you can come over here to visit any time you wish. You and Roger Pine Ridge both.”

“Roger,” Grassy uttered, as if he’d forgotten about his remaining Iris neighbor for a long time. He hadn’t invited him over for months. Must rectify that asap. They had to talk about Sunklands leaving. NWES in general. Should *they* leave? Nahhh, Grassy the green Mmmmmm thinks here. We’ll hold down the fort. Baker and Wheeler will most likely tire of NWES and return to the heart of it all, the closest place where Lindens and non-Lindens, their users, actually coordinated and cooperated with each other. Until it all fell apart with Jeogeot. *Here*. “Um, sure, Baker Bloch. We’ll come visit.” He included Roger because he knew Roger would be there too. Because, deep down, as has already been stated in that last post, they are one and the same. Grassy has no neighbor except himself. But he likes to pretend. Those kind of toy avatars are heavy into fantasy overall, hence the popularity of the 15 minute cinemas dotting the their base metropolis of Hermania over in Herman Park — one around every corner, it seems. Fellow toy avatars Mossmen don’t like the cinemas, and prefer to deal with the real world, plus the 15 minute films are ideal for the Mmmmmm’s much shorter attention span. Mossmen and Mmmmmm’s are opposites in that way. And so much more. Back to the meeting…

“And an Iris dance pad,” he says while producing his 2nd and last gift from his inventory while still proudly holding out his 1st. “Got it free on the marketplace. How serendipitous (with the M&M)!” It was a bigger word Grassy liked to throw around a lot in public now, replacing “accidental”. Grassy was starting to believe that all life was meaningful, at least for toys. He wasn’t sure about the humans.

“Thank you Grassy.”

“Indeed, thank you,” added Wheeler.

“Hi!” exclaimed Curled Paper Gordie Down to finish. Meeting adjourned. Time to find them apples and maybe an orange to spare. Banana? Not in this case. Mae West would not be glad to see him.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0206, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, NWES Island^

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September 22, 2020 · 5:33 am

power flower

Officer Ken and Officer Barney behind her talk like the fire that destroyed the Amazon fueled Flower Shop over in Black Ice was a tragedy. Instead, Lt. Jodie Tanner thought: cleansing. People — citizens — have to learn to pay their tithe, earn their right to be in this here NWES City. The City — only one now. Might as well be the walled city of Carcasonnne, hu hu, she laughed inwardly, additionally musing that a wall might be good; keep out the riffraff. The canal blocking Apple’s Orchard — the “Least East”– from Neptune here just isn’t hacking it. The man who had that plan wasn’t thinking things through. Superdude? She can never remember his name, but just recalls he could eat his suppers like there was no tomorrow. She’ll check the 4 sim database as soon as she can.

Synchromystically-like, Dinner Girl shows up just then at the station, wondering what she can blow up next. Of course, gun carrying was legal throughout The City, even the most massive of weapons. Reborn Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer III, now a bat-bunny as a result, drove up in his batty-mobile, intending to ask if the Black Ice fire was a joke or a riddle.

Lt. Tanner took it all in stride; happy about the hubbub, even. Neptune, hmm. Always things going on here. The center for sure.

(to be continued?)

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July 29, 2020 · 6:47 am

spotted/not spotted

“Rrawf!”

“What’s that, Spot (Spot!)? Something out in the water?”

“Rrawf rrawf!”

“Better go take a look.”

“Rrawf!”

—–

“Come on, boy. Come on! (whistling: phw phw phw!). Okay, be that way scardy pants.”

“Wmpr Wmpr Wmpr.”

“Oh I’ll be all right.” [Gus] rows out to the Shallows.

—–

“Hmmm. Nothing out here but a couple of green leaves and that green thing over there that’s been here forever. Better go get Spot to a dog doctor. He’s seeing things!”

“I *told* you the Shallows was a bad idea for a tree,” he-she whispered sideways out of his-her mouth over to she-he.

“Oh shut up, you. Sounds like he’s going away.”

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June 7, 2020 · 3:09 pm

directions

“Sometimes I don’t know where the blues begin and end, Esmerelda.”

Remaining silent, she stares out at the rocking and rolling boats as well. He’s obviously concerned about the waxing and waning Oesso logo on his chest, she thinks. Instability! The threat of re-absorption into the machinery. But she knows it also probably won’t happen. This was a test, after all. “Do that thing you do to the gas emblem,” requested the head honcho with her all white eyes spanning the universe itself but in a bad way. “See what happens; see if he has any weakness that we can exploit.” Nothing of significance spotted so far. He seems destined to leave again. “We can’t trap him,” she imagines saying to a displeased Mid-Hazel, dreading the rest of the day.

The Oesso logo remains stable now. He returns his attention to the table and the map upon it. “Any-way. Here it is, what you witches have been looking for. Mountainsburg to the west, Formosa — the LOST island — kind of to the north, Kate to the east. And a Little Rock in the middle, just enough to eventually get us out of New York Orleans.” He then looks at the Cat-Witch’s colorful wafer cookies just beyond, wondering why the south pales in comparison. Further away than the rest from his angle? A symbol of Oesso itself? *Cat-Witch* is to the south, he reminds himself. The whole lot of ’em.

Esmerelda studies the map of Arkansas carefully, looking at the handwritten parts. Peter Oesso can’t cheat at this game because he doesn’t know how — yet. Best to strike a deal early before his presumptive ascent. “Sold,” she says. “You can have the girl.”

“Great.” He stares out again. “Now can you make at least *one* of these boats stop rocking so I can get the heck out of here??”

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April 14, 2020 · 8:25 am

the blue jay’s way

“A Queer Creek is also a Strange Creek, Hucka Doobie.”

“Indeed.” How many more times would the bee-person appear to Baker Bloch, like the Gazoo to the Flintstones? As many times as he needed, Hucka realized. *She* was the one in error for wanting to have a relationship. She should have put that behind her long ago, when she was a man. But: here we are. *She’d* fight the urges.

Hucka Doobie then suggested they go down the Rabbit Hole again…

Buildings. Not fitting perfectly together unlike me — the perfection. I must make all this right.

I remove my perfection to attempt to fit in better with this strange, queer place but feel I am only a shell of what I was. I disappear.

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February 18, 2020 · 7:29 am

twinned

“I’m not sure I’m going back to this Bena, Mary. I was laughed at in the bar! And — I miss you.”

Pitch’s wife Mary, as usual around any body of water, was reeling reeling reeling them in. Perch always. It was the only fish around.

“If you don’t go back,” she explained patiently, “then you’ll never find out what happened. Keep close to Rebl. She’ll guide you through.”

“How about — *you*? Can you come as well? It’s the same house we have — had in Collagesity. Still have, except it lays empty there.” He picked at the laces of his boots. “Just like here.”

“We must choose Pitch Darling.”

Darkly, though Pitch, then realized who he was talking to. And he knew what the choosing meant. Collagesity or Corsica? It could come down to that.

Mary suddenly switched over to the other side for more action.

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December 15, 2019 · 9:30 am

Snowlands >

“*There’s* our tea, April Mae. I thought I was going to have to ask to send your (6 prim) *gardener* away.”

“I’m not quite finished with him,” defended his wife of 7 years about keeping her vacation pal around a bit longer. “You have your smoking guns. What do you care?”

Herbert Gold couldn’t say anything to that. He looked down at the steaming hot tea in front of him. He’d have to wait to take a sip. April Mae put her own cup to mouth and slurped noisily, taking a deep draw. She was use to hot. She grew up in central Jeogeot.

“Well… I *do* like the house. It’s in the middle of everything, it seems. Middle of Meribel, middle of Snowlands. You know I’m use to middle, growing up in the center…”

“Yes,” interrupted Herbert. “I know.” He watched her slurp more while his own tea still wasn’t ready for his own mouth. “I *am* glad you like it, despite all else. But…” Herbert hung his head down. He couldn’t say it. April Mae said it for him.

“I know,” she attempted to comfort. “Rosehaven was perfect, I know.”

—–

He was going to dream of someplace else tonight. He was determined about it, did all the right preparations before bedtime. *Not* Rosehaven. But, as he was told, *negative* suggestions didn’t usually work. He couldn’t tell himself, over and over, *not* to dream about Rosehaven. He might as well say to himself to dream about it then. Instead he decided to suggest someplace warm. That would let Rosehaven and its current, wintery landscape out of the picture. But it brought into play some possibilities he didn’t particularly care about. Like jungle. April Mae would be at home there. Not him. So he decided instead of “warm” he would use the word “temperate.” He looked it up beforehand to make sure. Temperate climates indicates *mild* temperatures. Not too hot, not too cold. A goldilocks clime. He finally fell asleep at 2:01 AM…

—–

“Aah, North Yd. Shouldn’t known.” But North Yd was no longer a wasteland village but simply a wasteland period. The Tiler Church was no longer here. Zoidboro didn’t have a place to preach any more.

Yes, he realized. He was looking for Zoidboro. And possibly his guy-gal pal Patrick Starr as well. Better head up the cliffs to see Sally. Both of ’em. Get the scoop on what happened to North Yd.

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October 5, 2019 · 10:05 am

Vertigo-ish

He must get his eyebrow spiral just right. For today was the day to pop the big question. Just a little more product should do it.

—–

“The town *could* hold many mysteries,” she complained metallically to photographer Herbert Dune later at Spunky’s coffee shop on Southside, “but I’m not sure that’s the way it’s pivoting. A choice must be made soon. Am I a mixed up man-girl or one or the other? Not sitting on the fence any longer. Feel one part: one. Feel another: the other.”

Herbert Dune was staring at her hair, thinking: I believe you’ve already chosen, baby*doll*. My doll, that is. Could this be, could it be…? He said aloud: “I-I’ve made a decision as well.” Stumbling with his words? That’s not like him. He *must* be nervous about all this too. But he seems so close this time. After failing so many times before. A doll come to life. Dare he even think the name? Yes: All Orange. I think I’ve found her. “I wish you to become my assistant.” Confidence back now. He stares her straight in the eyes, trying to ignore the golden sheen. He’d almost found his style. One more trick with the hair at the shoot tonight might do it. Along with shedding the skin again, of course.

—-

“Wow, that was *da bomb*, Merry.” Marry me, Merry! he wanted to scream to the world. The illusion was complete.

“Call me Breeze,” the assistant then requested. She’d been pondering the new name for a while.

“Breeze it is!”

—–

“Marry me, Breeze!” He couldn’t help himself this time.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0206, Black Ice, Jeogeot^^, NWES Island^

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July 25, 2019 · 9:45 am

Sweetwater over Sweetgrass

“We’re going to have to make a decision, Wanda. Are we gay? Or aren’t we gay?”

“Well — *my* old lover is a psychopathic killer. Enough to turn a woman against gaydom. And *yours*…”

“Marcus, I know,” spoke Pete Archer, a Sagittarius through and through. Big Wanda? Aries of course. Horns of Hatton.

She looks downhill into the heart of the village, shifts her sturdy weight in her chair. “Well. One things for sure is that I’m not going to take orders from that Grey Scale woman who recently came in and just took over the place. Freed *Annie* for Pete’s sake.” She then looked blankly at Pete. “Sorry — I-I know you don’t like expressions using your name.”

“That was a long time ago, Big Wanda.” He flipped his hand. “Forget about it.”

“I’m sorry your mother never let you go to school. All the advantages lost–”

“I said forget about it.” There was finality in his voice now. Pete had forgiven his ma, his pa, his bro, his ho sis who joined the 1st Prostitutian Church of the Deep South when she was only 15. But now a woman of 30 and straight in her ways. Except she was gay as well. Was *he* gay? Maybe Big Wanda and he should do the big dirty again. Test all those different kind of moves out once more. But he could just be bisexual — no harm in that. Except it is frowned upon by the community here. He’s either in — or out. Can’t flip both ways.

“Let’s head to the Deep South again,” he offered. “Love Letters in the Sand.”

A big smile spread across Big Wanda’s face. Maybe they won’t have to stay here after all.

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