Category Archives: 0208
Jeffrie Phillips was waiting for someone in Teepot, perhaps that cute punk he propositioned yesterday.
Yes, there she is, with the relationship evolved enough to a point where she’s asking him to choose from the lot of them again. But he only has one in his heart: Audrey. The rest are distractions, pretty baubles for him to pick up and admire. She’s with Dr. Nightwing, though. Out on one of their “missions” once more. If only he and Mystic Girl would get together instead — another companion. But right now it was Audrey. He stares up at the stars. Probably on Cygnus X-9 or some far away place like that. He thinks of black holes. He looks at Charlene. He thinks of holes.
“Nothing on the tube tonight, baby. Looks like we’ll have to go upstairs.” But she had no clear vision of where the relationship was going and thus having none of it.
Actually upon checking from behind she does have an angle for viewing. “Okay, let’s go for it,” she agreed after this pause to take another snapshot.
“I’m starting to really believe it would have worked either way, Hucka Doobie. Whether I stayed in Fordham on that high, arid Nautilus ridge or moved to Urqhart or thereabouts on the Corsica continent for a little more space and greener pastures — wouldn’t have mattered. *Both* choices are factored into the continuation of Our Second Lyfe, as especially chronicled through the photo-novels. Either way, we are still away from the sacred Rubi Woods and the heart that started it all. I had the perfect place, Hucka Doobie.”
“Not perfect,” responded the bee-friend who Baker Bloch befriended over 12 long years ago. A lifetime! “You didn’t have a regular 8192 bordering the woods. You *had* to move (to accommodate the 8192 Corsica Prime map). But I agree that either choice would have been okay. We’re more toward the end of these things than the beginning.” She stared at me with large, understanding eyes. I wondered who she was, deep down. And whether *we* would continue. “Good to think about this stuff now,” she reinforced across the way.
“Well,” he sighed and looked out across the landscape from their Perch perch. “Let’s take inventory.”
“Okay.” Hucka Doobie took another sip of tea laced with something a bit stronger in preparation.
“Mabel’s House. Is Mabel still around? I’ve been asking that for what seems like years now. And maybe they have.”
“She can be,” Hucka Doobie responded simply enough.
“What’s it doing up on that knoll, for example? That’s different (from Fordham).”
“Fork in the road,” Hucka Doobie said. “Choices made. A marker to mark the occasion by.”
“Hmm.” Baker Bloch scouted around for another object in the vicinity. “Barry X. Vampire’s house at the end of one of the two paths leading out of Collagesity in that direction. I suppose that’s an easy one. He’s kind of *writing* the current novels, Hucka. That’s his writing headquarters. Staring out at that rotating tire to
write compose ‘The Revolving Wheel’ or something.”
“We can *go* to these locations anytime you want to to get more of the story. And there *is* a story here.”
“All right let’s take Boos, then.”
(to be continued?)
Stranger Creek was a total cock-up, ruminated David A. while staring at the blue jay feather in front of him and away from the cockamamie plans.
Set aside, but then Baker Bloch, searching for All Things Corsica, found it and started making stories. He emits a sigh. “Oh well, what’s done is done.” He looks at the next interviewee below him from his perch in the skies. “Better change into more properly dressed David B. before heading down…”
“So — what are your qualifications for this job, Mr., um…”
“Perch,” came the answer in a boyish, nasal voice. “Well, I can walk in any direction, forwards, backwards, side-to-side. Even diagonally if needed.”
“That may be needed,” David B. quickly followed. Right off the Corsica map.
Rocky Racco sat in front of his typewriter waiting for a story to happen but it never did.
He went to the theatre to try to envision a play being acted out onstage, perhaps an interpretation of the novel he couldn’t start. Didn’t work.
What *was* it about this place, Old Ben — Bennington — but now New Ben: Bena? Creativity seemed to be sapped from the town. Before going back to his cave-home and sleeping the rest of the day for lack of anything else to do, Rocky decided to go visit Ben at the town bar, the center of it all down through the years, gluing old and new together to make something most likely not quite as good as either.
“Creative drought, eh?” he responded to Rocky’s confession of writer’s block. “You know what I do when something like that happens to me? Go fishing.” He looks to the large castle out in the water with this, tucked away in the northeast corner of the sim. Quite similar in this positioning to the Northeast Castle of the Hilling sim featured in the last section of this here photo-novel, perhaps too much so. There be the answers, Rocky realized, picking up on Ben’s accent in his mind. He’d have to rent a boat.
“One more thing, laddie, before you be renting that boat,” Ben further advised. “You be also seeking a double to this town, but not Hilling. Don’t go back to Hilling.” Rocky was thinking: I’ve never been to Hilling and don’t even know where that is. Maybe that was his problem. He didn’t have enough backstory himself to go off and start creating microcosms of reality through books and plays.
He recalls… something about a hotel. Yes. I can start there.
“Hello, anyone… here?”
Axis spied the cave opening from the top of the Broken Clock Church. Zoidboro preached here last winter. He was hot on the trail!
But first some supplies from the General Store.
Across the dirt road, his wife was still asking favors from Santa. “I want a pretty, new house. I want a wardrobe full of fine clothes. And, most of all Santa, I want a new skin. I’m tired of this golden one.”
“Done!” her husband shouted while walking out of the General Store, loaded down with camping gear, flashlights, rope, anything you’d want to explore a virtual cave system. “Here’s your *real* presents.”
Merry Gouldbusk didn’t think so. It took her a while to leave Santa’s lap.
Axis ended up having to rest on his sack.
He was down at the frog pond feeding the ducks when he spotted her through the bamboo. “What the??…”
And he moved forward through the water to investigate, striding the bottom to the far edge. Space Ghost’s edge.
“That’s *it*. I’ve had it with these shenanigans by interlopers like this Space Ghost, this new guy Kevin A. This is *not* funny.”
BANG BANG BANG.
“Space Ghost, I know you’re in there.” No answer. “Space Ghost!” he belched out in his gribbety voice. “Open the door. We need to talk.”
“Bullfrog?” the superhero at the peak of his powers replied innocently. Bait taken.
“It’s possible here in Columbia for people to see surrealist masters like this in our own backyard,” Laverick said. “That’s what the Tiger Hotel has always been about, creating a place that would be at home in New York or Chicago, and this is the next level of that. These paintings would normally only be accessible in a big city but they’re right here.”
“Today Missouri. Tomorrow: Rosehaven.” Ruby Fantasie extends her arms and shrills in as nasal a voice as she can muster over the city. “Come fiind mee! I’m heeere!!”