Not here, eh? thinks visiting Wheeler from over at NWES City. He said he’s *always* here, spinning around the place on that oh-so-handy skateboard of his. And I so wanted to thank him for the other day. Oh well… just have to tell the others here that I came by; leave it at that. Maybe next time. I’ll try to message the little fellow.
Category Archives: 0209
“We can pin whatever we want to on you — *thug*. We can pin, let’s see (he looked at the sign in the distance), the Candy Stripper murders down at the hospital. Bad one there — had to haul in all the personnel at St. Marys *and* the strip club over there to solve that one. And it still ain’t solved!”
“Stop torturing me, Burt. You know I’m only in here for the food.” He would laugh except he couldn’t. More mesh. His voice was like charcoal in a BBQ pit: deep and smoky.
“Let’s see…” Burt pondered more grand theft larcenies, manslaughters, but especially murders. “How ’bout the PIG killings.”
“But… that’s you, Burt. You’re… a pig.”
“Yeah. 4 men, all in their 20s through 60s. All between 4’5 and 6’3. All Caucasians or African-Americans or robots. Or none of the above — imaginary I mean there. One was see-through as I recall. And he wore a see-through blouse; very revealing. Apples a bouncing.” He thought back to when Harrison Ford Jett came into the station, all bouncy and see-through. He revealed a lot. The murder of Johnsons Howard was solved largely to his efforts. Then he took the apples out from underneath the shirt and went away. Burt remains disillusioned to this day.
“What’s the point of this?” Thug Jamison Restaurant was getting tired. He’d eaten a lot since he was locked up for jaywalking last Tuesday. The fullness made him sleepy. Of course he broke the law on purpose just so he could eat Mama Ruby Tanner’s home cooking, yum. Right in front of Burt. He knew he’d be booked on the spot. He had nowhere else to go, no place good to eat. “And could you bring my bed back? I’m going to have a lie down while you keep running your mouth.”
“Oh I haven’t even *started* with you,” Burt admitted. His mind scanned an overhead view of the city for more crime locations. Yes, one of ’em or maybe even several of ’em would fit Mr. Restaurant perfectly, he he. Ones we can’t solve otherwise.
(to be continued?)
Afterwards he left Charlene upstairs and came back down to write. He like to wear his facelight while alone here, and also switch on the little lamp on the desk to illuminate his manuscript even further. Bright ideas deserve bright light, he pondered brightly. Like ideas were constantly flashing in his head, giving the impression or at least a hint of the all consuming ever-light, his alchemical goal. Union with Audrey, union with the light, Dr. Nightwing conveniently sucked away into a midnight black hole — or something. The light is flickering more off than on again.
They ate leftover pizza for breakfast. “What’re you going to do today sweetest?” spoke Charlene the punk after finishing the first pie and sitting down with a second. Jeffrie breathed out. What *was* he going to do today? “We could go, I don’t know…” He couldn’t keep up the ruse. “*I’m* going to go walking — out in the woods around the town.” Charlene stared at him, tears forming in her eyes. “It’s never going to work between us.” “No,” came his quick response. She knew this was all about Audrey — he couldn’t stop yammering on about her last night. Okay, okay, she’ll accept this. She had a good time with Jeffrie. The sex was great! What a tiger. She voiced her opinion — her *certainty*. “Audrey?” he replied to this. “I guess.” On his part, he thought back to the highly illuminated manuscript and what he had written on it. I suppose one could equate it with a post of a blog type. Like this post here, actually. Yeah, that’s it. He was speaking to Charlene the punk and in the post at once.
“There’s — this doctor she met.”
“A new town has arisen beyond the revolving tire, Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child. We must attempt to match its energy!”
“Sounds *great*!” the chipper hippie girl said, eyeing the namesake tower from her vantage point while following Rhiannon to the table with the magic cards. But she said to call her Golden.
“Tsk tsk tsk. Oh dear. We better hurry.”
“Oh I feel *awful* again, Rhiannon.” Golden let the name slip go, given what just happened.
“Let’s start with a single.” She turned the just dealt card up.
She sat in the middle of 4 and realized this was matching the energy.
“What is this place?” SEAN asked after accepting the teleportation offer from Marsha “Pink” Krakow. What *is* that girl up to now, hum? he asked himself before clicking the button. One way to find out.
“It’s the center. *The* center. Now look at where we are. The old Perch residence. Moved away, though, like so many others. Heard he’s over in Heaven’s Gate now.”
“*I* may be next, hmph,” responds SEAN “Green” Penn. “I’m *tired* of being moved all around town. First I’m down at Southside Bay in a teal cottage. Then I’m up in town again at a *green* one. Like my name — it all builds around that house now. Trouble is, I have memories of *both*. When I, er, went out to that island in the bay. You know the one.”
Marsha “Pink” Krakow didn’t know the one and said so.
“Oh, you know, with the kind of robotic lady with the different colored eyes. Like David Bowie.”
“Oh, you mean Buie.”
“I meant what I said, girl. So, anyway, erm, she was there. On the island. I just row row rowed my boat over there.”
“Where did you get a *boat*?” Marsha responds.
“It was just there. Underneath the teal house. Or in the boathouse I suppose. *Inside* it. Downstairs inside… ohh.”
“*Anyway — can we get to why I brought you here?” Her voice was reduced almost to a whisper now.
SEAN looked around. “Where’s, um, *Olive*. She hasn’t been –”
“She’s up in the monastery for a while. Because, you know, that thing with the giraffe.”
“That’s just something she made up. She doesn’t want to hang around us any more. Thinks us *juvenile*.”
“Not true.” But was it true? “*Anyway*, speaking of Olive — glad you brought her up — because she showed me a *trick* before she left.
“Another one?” SEAN responded, use to such things.
“Yeah. So you’ve got your advanced menu on your viewer we told you to show a while back. Don’t you?” She stared at SEAN until he nodded. “Uh huh.” He then checked and breathed a sigh of relief that he’d actually done something they requested for a change, the crazy gals.
“Well, pull that down. Go to, um, *render*, then uncheck ‘volume’.”
“Okay. Trying to follow.”
“Ho. What is *that*?”
“That, my green friend, is Kraken Hill. And *that’s* what this town is trying to cover up — *has* covered up. That’s why everyone is moving away. It’s all baloney on the surface. Hogwash.”
“Watch your mouth, girl.” But then SEAN “Green” Penn kept staring around with volume unrendered, trying to take it all in. It made sense! This was truth she spoke.
From this angle she could barely see the top of the newcomer’s house over Jana Forest, this Pitch Darkly she’s heard so much about lately. Laughed at by other vampires in her husband’s bar so loudly that rumors have it he’s already moved away out of embarrassment — looking for land on the west side of the continent to settle down instead. But maybe the rumors are confusing recent Bena exile Barry X. Vampire with Pitch, Phyllis Phox considers, for Pitch was definitely still a vampire, or at least a wannabe one according to Ben. So goofy, though(!) Perpetually blood-splattered to name just one error: proper vampires do not roam about town with blood stains on their elegant, primly pressed clothes. She’d passed by his house several times now on her walks into the hills surrounding the town. No one there yet, and stuff that should be inside it according to her reckoning still outside cluttering up the yard. Good Bena has a privacy screen separating him from the rest of town(!). So that’s another strike against this Pitch Darkly fellow. Sloppiness in attire and decor all around. He won’t make it here — there.
Phyllis then looks just above Pitch’s disorganized spot at Mother’s Place perched on the now hidden green hill dominating Bena from the southeast. Polar opposite to the great castle out in the northeast corner of the sim, she knows (but, importantly, *not* the Northeast Castle this time ’round: that appellation still belongs solely to Hilling’s similarly positioned citadel). And the Whore Mother within, tended to by that poor, pitiful child of hers. Always forget the name, Phyllis Phox ruminates. Everyone just calls her kid. That’s what she answers to most of the time.
Katy, Phyllis Phox then remembers. Maybe she can shorten it to Kate when she grows up and, following Barry X. Vampire and others’ lead, forget about this place and move on. College is sometimes a turning point. But the Great Mother is now pushing for Bena to have its own, defeating the purpose in her mind. You go to college to get *away* from home. She certainly did.
She then looks more southward and tries to spot the tiny island in the middle of Danshire adorned until just several days back with a shack much like she grew up in — eerily so, she understands — with a mom tending to 3 other kids most of the time as well. And she had all the color drained out of her skin to blend in better at Bena after the marriage to her husband Ben, then the powerful werewolf leader before the Vampire Coup and the name change from Bennington.
Much to digest about town history, as it’s turning out(!).
No luck here. A little further up Queck Hill should do the trick.
Yes. There ’tis.
A warning, Miss Ruby. Princess Merry Gouldbusk has forgotten who she is again and is about to enter the cave system. Rose–”
“Don’t say it,” interrupted Ruby Fantasie, tired of the word.
“Yes ma’am,” acquiesced Rules of Rose. “Anyway, Baker Bloch tried to wake up while there but couldn’t.”
“Yes, but Baker Bloch must be close *now*. Else I couldn’t talk this way.” She eyed Rules of Rose, who had just flittered in through the portal, more closely.
“We found the gun,” Rules of Rose continued. “Inside the game. Benny Right Horn…”
“Benny *What* Horn?”
“You know, the fat– er, more weight challenged half of the Horn Brothers. Like in Twin Peaks.”
“*Tessa* is from Twin Peaks, or very close. Aren’t you Tessa?” Ruby Fantasie squinted across the tracks but still couldn’t make out Mabel and Tessa in the darkness over there. If they even were there.
She returned her attention to Rules. “Well it was a ridiculous story, true. Me in Rose– that place — in the winter. Bahhh! Only in the spring at best and when the blog isn’t filming me. And *Norris* here. Does he look wee to you, Rules of Rose?”
“Not atall,” agreed the elven fairy with the high doo, looking beyond Ruby Fantasie to the far chair of the group.
“No, this is who we are,” declared Ruby. “And we’re here now. What is this place again?”
“End of Time, ma’am,” proud she could say the name this time. She looked toward the glowing entrance, white with light.
“We wait,” commanded Ruby Fantasie, knowing the question in her mind.
“Merry, I have only a little over a day on my rental on the south side of the sim. Let’s just move in together.”
“Hmm.” She leaned her head against the back of the chair, thinking of the choice she’d made again.
“We’d, er, have to move into a bigger place with more available prims.”
“I have a really nice, feathery bed,” he said more seductively. “Wouldn’t fit in here with the little devils, butt…”
“One day, huh?”
“Yeah.” He looked around the room. “You could have Satan’s spawn just have their run of the place. Only 50 lindens a week. We could get a better place. Not on my side of town,” he continued. “Nothing going on over there.”
“Maybe next door,” she proffered, thinking of the bill again.
“Maybe next *door*,” he echoed, offering his hand to hers. They drew each other in for a celebratory kiss. She changed again.
“What about the other Herbert?” Hucka Doobie logically asked.
“Sent away,” I responded. “Too old at the core of it.”
“Core,” responded Hucka. “Interesting word.”
“She decided last night. At the Faux Rhino.”
“That was just… satisfactory.”
“*Just* satisfactory?” the other Herbert, Herbert Gold, replied with widening eyes. He had tried his best. He knew he didn’t have anything more in him than that.
His Mission had failed.
Oh well. Back to April Mae in that Fi sim he can never remember the full name of, pheh. He left her a 100 linden bill on the bar counter before leaving. Just enough for a week’s rent in that new place she’d had her eye on for a spell.
Arnold had brought them here to this chicken laden place to sit just outside. He wanted them to be witnesses in case Grey Scale Kimball launched a full, um, scale investigation of the two.
“So many chickens around here, Kevin C.,” Kevin E spoke to his lover while peering around him at the other side of Bridgeman’s. “I can count 1 (pause), 2 (pause), 3. Like us, hehe. 1 (Kevin E. points to Kevin C.), 2 (Kevin E points to Kevin A. on his other side), 3 (Kevin E. points himself).”
“That’s very good, Kevin E.” Kevin C. pats his knee this time. “Remember the word ‘appli-cation’ from yesterday? There were 3 squiggly letters — 1, 2, 3. Then you said the next letter, a straight one. What number would *that* be in word.”
“Errr. 3 again?” Kevin E. guessed incorrectly.
“No, that’s not right.”
“Shh, guys,” spoke up Kevin A. — as stated before, the smartest of the group. Or least dumb I suppose I could put it more accurately. But that’s not really fair to them. They’re all sweet as can be. Especially C. and *especially* especially E. Sweetgrass sweet for those two. Kevin A. didn’t quite make the cut and had to remain straight. He is just outside looking in. Outside with Space Ghost at the Northeast Quadrant that’s filled out nicely in the meantime. “I hear someone coming,” he continued after listening a bit more. He was just outside looking in again. But the big dining table hid the supposed action.
Kevin C. looked up and down the road running beside Bridgeman’s but saw nothing. Kevin E. followed his eyes and then looked himself, a copycat act. He was often in copy mode. Kevin C. then realized what Kevin A. was talking about.
If that moaning would stop inside, Kevin E. thought, maybe I could concentrate on the road and see what Kevin A. was talking about. He peered further down the road right — direction 1 he decided to call it to keep organized in the moment, as Kevin C. had taught him recently. He studied the old Archer place from a distance; could almost see that blue band or whatever playing at the dance pad over there.
Then direction, um, 2: Airport tower this way.
Still no sign of someone coming. The moaning accelerated inside, reaching a climactic point just as Kevin E. uncharacteristically shouted “Shut up!” to them, “I can’t think with all that going on.”
Chicken Itza and Marcus walked out of Bridgeman’s, looked at the Kevins lined up in a row outside, and feigned turning red. “Eh heh,” laughed Marcus nervously. “Er, just some bad chicken. We *ate* some bad chicken.”
“Yeah, *bad* bad,” accented Chicken Itza beside him. Bad as in *good*, he thought to himself as part of the cover up.
Kevin E. realized what Kevin A. was talking about.
“The jellyfish has eaten the lion.”
“You need to STOP it, Preston.”
He stirred his spoon randomly in his bowl. “Mama. Can I go out? I know it’s raining…”
“Preston. You can go out when it stops raining. This afternoon sometime. Now eat your cereal. I have to go to the women’s club today and you have to look after your little sister Robin.”
“No ‘awww’s, young man. Suck it up and eat the cereal.”
Cereal, he suddenly thought. Circles! Cereal circles. Two of them. But where? How? The jellyfish ate the lion.
“Spongebub Squarepants” was playing on the tv. Robin’s favorite show. Baby Jane was too little to have a favorite show. But of course Jane would go with mama. Too small for him to take care of. But Robin — unfortunately — was just big enough now. He had a new responsibility and he didn’t like it.
But the dreams. He could always withdraw into the dreams when things get boring here. Robin is small — *tiny*. She’s riding on the edge of a car with a madman at the helm, spinning and turning and spinning and turning. She wears a big R on her blouse. She’s happy, carefree. ‘Wheeeee!’ But then there’s the giant baby reaching into the tv, grabbing her off the car’s edge like King Kong to Fae Ray. Did I get those names right? He’d watched that movie last year. Empire State Building. He wants to go visit now. See where the monkey hung off the side of the building. Visit the top where he made his final stand against the fleet of attacking airplanes. *He* is King Kong. He’s being attacked from all sides, “wrrr! wrrr! wrrRR!!”