Category Archives: 0208

March 4, 2024 · 6:39 am

Old Hen

Newt looked down after he’d finished, deep in thought. “Amazing,” he finally spoke. “What in blue blazes did I just eat?”

Wendy beamed a smile at him, just like on the logo. “It’s called a *hot dog*.”

“A *what* dog?”

“A hot dog. Made from the freshest ingredients. No pig anuses if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking that at all (!).”

“Nor snouts, nor hooves. Only mechanically separated meat byproducts — I’ve been told to call it muscle trimming.”

“It’s humans,” Newt deadpanned. “Isn’t it?”

“*No*. Ridiculous man.”

“Okay,” he said, standing up and wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I’m going to have to do my research before we make a deal.”

—–

They were back at the Pink Hippo, named slightly changed to hide the innocent involved. “I did my research,” Newt started after he made his introduction. “I had to brainwash you into thinking our meeting never happened. Bottom line: *don’t* sell those things to the general public any more. I was right about the humans (!).”

Several people dancing nearby overheard the conversation. Soon it was all about town. Kangerootown would never have a Wendy’s in its midst, the name of the red topped establishment being sullied beyond repair. March turned out to be a really bad month of the year for the likewise red topped gal before him.

“Dance?” he said, trying to ease the pain. No smile now. Turn that upside down into a full out cry, which the dancers also recorded. Where’s the beef, Wendy? Where’s the beef?

Not in this reality as it turned out. *This* Wendy’s franchise was basically over before it started. Soon, quite soon, she would turn into a vegetarian and change the course of her life. But first we have to get her to Castle Town in the South.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0042, 0208, Castle Town, Hana Lei^^, Kangerootown, Omega^^, The Cross^

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December 1, 2023 · 2:49 am

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Berta was conveniently on her lunch break but Keith B. timed it that way. Drugs in Biff Carter’s last coffee and also last donut just to make sure — he’ll be snoozing for a while. Time to take a gander at that 3n1 file he knew Dr. Mouse dropped off just day before yesterday on a visit to his old detective pal. Said to him: find this girl, before she separates out again and all is lost.

Entering the downtown building, he couldn’t see the evidence right in front of his face. A spacer this one is, always thinking about the next operation in a broader sense of the word. He’d just met with Dr. Grayson uptown at his Serapis Club, a potential replacement. Dr. Brown is no longer an option, since he perished in that Millbank haunted house explosion back in the last photo-novel. By Dr. Mouse’s hands no less. Brown maybe knew too much about the 3n1 since he had the same last name as one of the 3 components (Frankie “Beige” Brown) — he couldn’t take a chance. And all that talk about preservation and Halloween being a perpetual holiday from him. Nonsense! That would cut out his favorite one of all which was of course Christmas, Xmas as he liked to call it, not being a practicing religionist. Science is instead his thing of worship. If there is a God, he’s determined, he’ll have on a lab coat when he meets him at the Pearly Gates, with a beaker in one hand and a test tube in the other. Maybe some kind of Adam-Frankenstein laying on a nearby gurney. And of course an Xmas tree in back adorned with more beakers and test tubes. He’s pictured the scene quite a few times now. Makes him merry.

He feels like he has control of the city but it’s just an illusion caused by a game. An in-disguise Marsha “Pink” Krakow enthusiastically claps from across the midtown diner after he breaks the jackpot once again. He turns.

In fact, I don’t think there’s any way he could have missed that Pink Pawn sign and made the connection. Marsha did that as well. She’s covering her tracks. In fact, this is what she looked like to Dr. Mouse when he turned from his still dinging and clanging and whooping machine.

“Alice??” he exclaimed. His daughter.

(to be continued)

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September 26, 2023 · 8:01 am

00400208

George ended up taking the afternoon off. Better be careful else he’ll lose the forman job to more ambitious Ted from Weights and Balances, interested in scaling to the top. But he couldn’t resist. He was just too lonely.

Afterwards: “Your mate didn’t seem as interested in my act — left early. At least he tipped.”

“No, Edward… Eddie…” George didn’t want to say Eddie is happier at home than himself and hurt Bun Bun’s feelings. “Eddie fears he might be gay,” he decided to say instead, thus planting a seed.

“Um *hmm*. ‘Splains a lot. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Edward…,” George stumbles, trying to think of a name. Bun Bun took the hesitation and ran with it, created her own scenario she instantly believed. She was a born improviser.

“Same name, hmm. Maybe a twin, or at least a twin cousin. Maybe, hmm, a former rival and they couldn’t figure out the intense passion, where it came from. Or a former chum relationship intensified — either one, doesn’t matter.”

“Er, *sure*,” George responded to this, glad he didn’t have to make all that up himself. Edward it is. Eddie and Edward. And so we are almost ready to begin again.

“Hello?” he said to the mayor over the phone after returning home, making sure the cat wasn’t listening in. “We have a second name.”

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July 17, 2023 · 1:51 am

00390208

Yet another pepper, a 3rd for the shirt and top covering up the exposed tank. Superseding the other two?

Big Stickout in MACAvity, another West Virginie resonance.

Meanwhile, the actual, non-merged Shelley’s have started taking train rides with each other on another part of the FILE, but are kicked off before entering the water, marking passage into a different sim. Shelley, one of them, I suppose Shelley 01 which would be more appropriate, then spots a red pin on a map of Pickle 01 off the coast of the 1st Bellissaria continent, technically part of the continent itself since it was the first landmass to form there. Maybe this is our next lead, she thinks, clothes still a bit wet from the brief dunking. But she fared better than the one sitting more up front.

Pickle 01 and Pickle 02, then. Just like Shelleys 01 and 02, interesting. Also combining, and perhaps not in a good way as well.

A different location for Pickle 01’s red pin back in photo-novel 21 but too similar not to mean something, most likely.

So Shelley 01 stays put at the map while Shelley 02 checks out the actual location on Pickle 01. Real time investigating we have here. Exciting! Let me just close up some windows before actually logging on the 2nd Shelley, the now basically duplicate to the first minus some secondary cosmetic attributes along with the use of more demos to save money in the process… Okay, that should be enough.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0039, 0208, Bellisaria, Constantynople, Nautilus, NORTH, Pickle 01, Pickle 02, Rank & File, Rim Isles, West Virginia

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May 4, 2023 · 7:49 am

00380208

While Ted went to get help, I watched her start jumping up and down on the thing, the alien object — whatever it was.

At the same time nearby:

I tried to turn off the noise of the bouncing bed springs but couldn’t. Something was coming to a peak. Grant!, she shouted. Grant!!!

We were back.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0208, New Mexico, The Waste^^

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March 4, 2023 · 10:04 pm

00370208

weekly message from the Spiritually Okay League (SOL)…

They say in order to properly enter the Void, you have to leave the old self outside, crushed by its dense, massive weight. Another trick is that you have to come in aerially through the hayloft instead of the front door, else you just find yourself entering yourself entering yourself in a kind of mirror world funhouse that never ends.

Once safely inside, you can do a massive amount of good and evil to the world you then control, depending on where the Void is placed, in this case the central lawn of a New Mexico ghost town, turning it from dead to living, if at a price. Thank you Aztec warrior! For being so valiant and brave. For carrying things through to their logical conclusion despite the rather overwhelming odds against you, materially emotionally mentally. Tintown, the true and real one as opposed to those fake, reflective others, will not be forgotten. It lives on, if only in a type of graft form. Good enough! Better than evil enough.

On with the show…

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December 24, 2022 · 9:55 pm

matching

Jem, in her place, saw something trapped and bobbing around the water in front of her as well. Not a coconut this time — that would be too obvious, right? (or redundant) But something more unusual in design. A face!


On a rotating ovoid or egg-like thingie. Another one in the water just below, a duplicate of the first. But — here’s the thing — *right* on the Heart Line of the Heterocera Continent I was reexamining today in tandem with a re-reading of photo-novel 13, where everything was readjusted in a way. The almost 1/2 sim property’s title is Kii’Wik Sanctuary, with a description as follows: “Settled by refugees from the Amazon Jungle, Kii’Wik Sanctuary’s a place for creating, learning & relaxing.” The more immediate prompt for exploring this particular part of the Heart Line first outlined in 13 is the parcel’s logo: a red hand, not quite a red palm, as in palm reading, but close enough to do the trick, perhaps. To explain this and complete the loop: Heart Line, as well as the complementary Head Line also forming a diagonal line across the continent, are named for 2 prominent hand lines (Heart and Head) used for soothsaying in palm reading. The whole continent then becomes symbolic of a gigantic hand.

Very close to something…


above and below

—–

And then 2 more about 15 meters away inside a cave behind the waterfalls — and, again, *right on the Heart Line*. How coincidental. Both underwater in this case, but not twirling around madly like the first pair found. Very slow and calm rotation instead, matching the tranquil nature of the pool.


Looking back, Jem here is as close to the southeast corner of the sim (Ufeus) as she can physically get within the confines of the cave (3/4), with the underwater pair directly in front of her at 10/10 or so, and then the first pair at 20/20 or thereabouts. All on the Heart Line passing through the sim, indicated by matching longitude and latitude lines measured in meters from its western and southern boundaries starting at 0/0 and ending at 256/256. The symmetry begs the question: What lies at 30/30, 40/40, and 50/50 and so on? Jem explores this.

This strangely uprooted pair of palm trees at 105/105 certainly caught her attention. Palms again.

(to be continued)

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October 15, 2022 · 3:50 am

00350208

“Isn’t it beautiful, George?”

“Musician here,” requests George, who goes by that around other people generally. “Until we’re properly married anyway and tied the knot between us.”

“Oh George,” she said, and kissed him in front of the vanilla layer cake also tied with a knot, anticipating the big event. There’s no doubt they like each other a whole lot, probably a whole whole lot. But do they love each other? Now is the time to find out if ever.

“Now your turn, George.”

“Your turn, *Musician*, what? Your father is standing right over there.”

“My father has been dead for 10 years. That’s *your* father. Newt, remember?”

“Newt, right.” He remembered. He thought.

“And he’s been calling you George for I don’t know how long. Probably since we started dating. *Anyways*, kiss me again. Put on that new hud you got and let me have it. Newt’s too busy trying out the tea to pay attention. Plant a good one right on the kisser.”

Wait… that *was* her father. He said this to her as she puckered in front of him, making her think as well.

“Oh George,” she decided, “let’s not argue about relatives right here, right now. Let’s focus on us. Whatever family issues remain to be solved, we’ll be the stable point in the middle of it all — that’s the important thing. ” She then made the first move herself right when Newt — whoever’s father he was — put his own thing to his lips, synchronicity noted.

And let’s go with Shelley’s father. Too much lead up text to change if I don’t. It’ll work out.

(to be continued of course)

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August 6, 2022 · 7:26 am

00340208

Before the shooting day, Wheeler explained to Sugar her motivation for running her shack out in the center of nowhere. “It’s about the citizens and denizens of these woods,” she indicated, “the fresh pies you can harvest from the pecan and apple and cherry trees about this time of year and how pleased they are that you can bring such joy into their otherwise rather empty lives by filling them with your, erm, lovingly prepared food.”

“I think I get it,” she says in her not near as deep enough voice. Wheeler tells her she needs to change it before Donald shows up and the cameras switch on. “How’s this,” she tried again almost an octave lower.

“Better. Keep practicing. We have an hour.”

—–

7 o’clock. Donald is preparing pancakes and muffins wearing only a thong; his duck costume hadn’t come back from the cleaners yet. Ace the Gopher was assigned to run over there and check on its status. Yet the cameras were rolling. “We can add the costume to this particular scene post-production,” explained CGI specialist Forrest Ferment. “The cost will be low as long as he stays perfectly still or almost so.” As the scene basically demanded, lucky for them. Sugar had just popped several of her freshly plucked pies into the pre-heated oven and took the opportunity for a break. This is where the dialog begins. Donald to her side was engrossed in recipe reading. “Stay that way,” guest director Wheeler said, filling in for a sick Baker. “Just cut the 2 places where you whisk and beat.” Baker would not be happy later when she reviewed the day’s reels in her bed. “Movement,” she complained. “Keep the eye engaged and moving. That’s what the whisking is there for, that’s what the beating is in place for.” Then Donald’s costume shows up from Clyde’s and everything is back to normal. Time for the denizens and citizens of these here woods to wake up and smell the coffee, namely Sugar’s patented cinnamon recipe with a dash of nutmeg and a pinch of coconut. Nostrils flare, bedroom slippers are slipped on. Soon all will be here, ready for their pancakes and whatnot. Center of Woods stirs to life.

(to be continued)

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May 27, 2022 · 8:34 am

controller (one nautilus is all nautilus)

“As you can see, young man, my black piece — the bishop I believe, unless it’s the rook — is turning into a white piece. This is how I propose to win the game.”

“Forfeit?” I guessed, knowing the overwhelming odds against him.

“Hardly. Look at your hands.”

“W-what the??”

“Your — move.”

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