Sidechick Corea appears from behind. “Magus Ellen,” he speaks formally. “The blue boy Opp is here.”
“Great, great. That’s really great.” He pulls the ice cream cone from his pocket and takes a thick, satisfying lick. ” Yes, put him in the middle of all this and I’ll be there shortly. Quick stop over at Iris first.”
“Very well, sire.” Sidechick Corea takes his leave to execute Rey Wisa’s orders.
—–
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0008, 0207, Nascera^^
Upon reaching the cave’s upper mouth — leaving The Musician behind in its bowels again while she scouts for additional, useful poses — Wheeler spies Willard and Harriet Miller dancing up a storm in a nearby gazebo.
Then something extraordinary happens. The couple instantly cease their gyrating, then Harriet appears to fall asleep on the spot. Like she’s “away”, as we say in Second Lyfe speak.
Another takes her place. Jimmy. The *bastard*, Wheeler thinks. He’s asleep too, for a moment, then springs awake.
“You can go now,” Wheeler can hear him say faintly from her position. He’s apparently speaking to Willard Miller, for just after this the husband of Harriet Miller vanishes — poofs out of existence.
“It’s time to come out of the closet, er cave,” he then calls in the direction of Wheeler. “It’s time for you guys to remember who you are. The upper 2/3rds of the infamous punk band Story Room, with me completing the trilogy.
Jimmy approaches the cave mouth, still quite red but now much taller. And also a woman.
Tammy Whatammy?
“Uh huh.” More buzzing/squeaking from the floor. “I see.”
“What’s she saying?” asked a slumping Broken Heart from the other couch. She was pretty stoned.
“Hold on a minute.” Tina speaks again in her minute, tinny voice, understandable only to Jacob I. in the room. Perhaps it is because he’s closer to her, however, or just actually paying attention. The lawnmower continues to interact with the tiny being. “Alright, I guess we can do that.” Tina replies. “No, we don’t have the equipment or manpower for that, Tina.” After a small pause, Tina squeaks and buzzes for about 30 seconds more. “You take care as well, friend.” She scoots rapidly across the floor and out the door.
“So… what’s she saying?” queries Broken Heart again while remaining in a slumping position. She didn’t even realize Tina had left the scene.
“Jeffrie Phillips, that’s what,” replied a frowning Jacob I. “Centre,” he added.
—–
15 minutes earlier in Gaston’s Central Park, Pretty Man puts on the green ring. Everything changes.
“Over here, punk,” he calls to Earie Chuck after the deed is done. “I made a small detour.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0006, 0207, Gaston^^, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara
“I’ve been living here a long time,” spoke Little Tonshi. “I have my great view, my own Table, even.”
“Are you going to change her back?” queried Buster Damm, talking about Wheeler on the couch between them.
“Not while she’s around me. David Bowie, David Bowie,” she said disgustedly. “*I’m* David Bowie. At least as much as her.”
“I must admit it’s a great view here,” he said. “What’s the movie tonight, hehe? Bowie, I assume.”
“Yes,” replied Little Tonshi. “The early years. The first 3 albums. Up to and including ‘Hunky Dory’.”
“Your masterpiece according to some.”
“‘Life on Mars’ was a surprise,” admitted the purple girl. “A shock, even. I realized I was extraterrestrial by then.”
Buster looked at one and then the other. “Someone will have to go,” he said. “There can’t be 2 David Bowies in this story.”
“Again I’ll leave it up to you. I can return Wheeler at any time. You can head to Ratcliff, then. Leave me back here up on my high mountain, the highest in Second Life.”
“Says some,” added Buster.
“Yes. Shush now. The show is starting.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0005, 0207, Heterocera, Lapara^
They’ve found the secret rooms.
Clown Central.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0004, 0207, Heterocera, VHC City^
“Father, when will mother be joining us?” asked Snowbob the man-child.
“Corsica,” indicated the father. “Corsica, Corsica, Corsica!”
“She’s not going to be here anytime soon. Is she?” The father doesn’t answer this time. Both stare blankly into space.
Snowbob is beginning to theorized his family won’t be staying in Collagesity long. The house payment hasn’t gone through yet. Their furniture is still in storage. Even though he manged to get the main gate to the property open yesterday, there was still some kind of invisible barrier that he had to jump over to come inside — a sign. And his father’s skin had turned from yellow to green. A mysterious malady, because he seems perfectly normal. But Snowbob keeps recheckeding his father’s outfit list behind him. Always green skin instead of the previous yellow. Yellow is missing. Yellow is missing!
—–
I’ve got to solve this case so I can get out of here! thought Owens, wearing the mantle of private detective now.
Tired of staring at roshambo images, he sat down at The Table and enjoyed more leftover wine from the diner. By this time he was drinking straight from the bottle. “Reading anything interesting?” he asked Curled Paper across from him, trying to start up a conversation once more. “‘Winesap’? Sounds intriguing.” But Curled Paper still said nothing (his light was off). Paper, he then thought. Curled Paper. Another clue?
“I wonder where The Librarian went?” he tried again. “He always seems to be here, sitting.”
“Bathroom break, let’s say,” then uttered Tin S. Man in his low voice from the left. “It takes him a while.” Owens had forgotten the metal being was alive. Someone to talk to while he drinks. Nice!
“Well, er… what do I call you?” He squinted up at the giant’s kind face.
“Tin S., please. Like the game. Like the sport. It’s always love something for me. My ego and aggression are always zeroed out.”
“Well that’s fascinating, Tin S.,” Owens spoke while taking another sip of wine from his bottle. “So rude,” he then said of himself, lifting the bottle toward Tin S. Man. “Want any?”
“I cannot drink wine, only oil. Wine makes me tipsy. When I fall down, I cannot get up because of my massive weight. Only oil please. Do you have a bottle of oil?”
“Not on me, no. Maybe later. Listen, Tin. S., how did you get here? I mean, why are you at The Table along with the others? Old Mabel mentioned you were a famous musician inside that outer casing. Dave something. Davis?”
“Davies,” corrected Tin S. Man. “That is a true inner form, yes.” He paused.
“What’s the purpose of all this?”
Tin S. Man moved his joints slightly, then asked a question back: “What do you know of our user?”
“I know that Baker Bloch is the main channel for the user who goes by the same name.”
“Baker B., close enough,” said Tin S. Man.
“And… um, I guess The Table, as far as I understand, represents a gathering of variants, mainly musicians like yourself, who have, er, *donated* their work to a greater whole. This Table.” He then knocks on The Table to reinforce his answer.
“Are you staying in town long enough to attend the next Table meeting?” asked Tin S. Man.
“I *hope* not,” returned Owens. He needed to get back to the roshambo images. Something about that yellow hand. Paper. Switch. He pulled the little, wine stained slip of paper from his coat pocket and read it again. This is the one found in Baker Bloch’s own wine. “Pill” is all it said.
“Reading anything interesting?” The giant smiles.
—–
Meanwhile, over at the Red Umbrella…
“That’s him alright. Owens.”
“And over in Boos as well,” added Old Mabel.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0207, Heterocera, Rubi^
Sunklands 
