Eraserhead Man could now easily open the rabbit hole with his mind from the opposite end of the yard.
And Karl had fully transitioned.
“Whoa, ho ho. Daylight!”
Annie’s turn now.
“Just relax, Annie. Close your eyes. You’ll be in the sun again before you know it.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0008, 0209, Horizons^^, New Island^
“Approach!”
“Oh, it’s you Halloween Jack. What do you want here? A truce? I told you we can’t do a truce. We are mortal enemies!”
“No, Santa God. I am not here for that today. A stranger is amongst us. At my castle gate and now yours. A Mr. Baker Bloch. Said he understood that he needs to get permission from *us* to pass to higher planes.
Santa God guffawed. “What higher planes, hmph? The blank one without ours and Melvin’s castles? The huge, empty cave? The, let’s see, the one with the several smaller, empty caves and, um, a couple of flying fish I believe? There’s nothing up there! What pray tell does he want with the lot of ’em?”
“He said he’s looking for the great 3-n-1.”
“Maybe he needs to look into his heart, mind, soul. The 3-n-1 is within us and that is that. You’ll know one day.”
Halloween Jack ignores what he considers a more degenerate piece of Santa God’s religious mumbo jumbo. Like rotted fruit. Already they were battling for his soul. “Shall I send him away, then?”
“No, that’s all right. Let’s hear out his story, crazy as it may be. First, let him wait in the Christmas Chamber.
Christmas Chamber.
“That’ll put him in a good mood and help balance out the warped environment he experienced over at your dark castle already. You probably let him wait in your batty Bat Room, didn’t you?”
“N-no,” Halloween Jack lied.
“That’s what I thought.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0007, 0209, Clemscott^, Gaeta V^^
Mr. Babyface attempts to return to his new Collagesity apartment but realizes he set home to Audrey’s Bar instead. So he just asks Terry if he can use his phone to make the call.
“We’ve found them,” he starts for the person on the other end. Twittering; he waits, then seems to answer. “It’s fine. Commode is kind of out in the open.” More twittering from the phone. “Baker Blinker owns the property. She’s the one who set me up.” Another round from the other side. “I haven’t been in the woods yet.” A long bout of twittering, then, “Okay thanks.” After a small click, he hands the receiver back to Terry who puts it underneath the bar somewhere.
“Trouble in paradise?” Terry probes, as bartenders often do.
Mr. Babyface thinks about asking Terry if he perhaps knows the whereabouts of Caucasian Tommy Brade but then decides against it. No need to rouse suspicion so soon. That will come. So he pretends Terry is asking him about his recently rented Kidd Tower abode.
“Nah, the apartment is basically fine. Phone has some static. The bed needs a new mattress. The downstairs renter controls the heat. The stove doesn’t work.”
“But the view, eh, Mr. Babblefarce?” Terry smiles and winks cooly.
“Mr. Babyface,” he corrects. “Yeah. Good view.” He takes a series of puffs from his pipe, contemplating the next move. “When will you get your liquor license?” he then thinks to insert.
“End of October. First of November at the latest. Then Collagesity will be back in business for real. You’ll see. Baker Blinker has filled me in on all the detail-i-o’s.”
“She seems nice,” offers Mr. Babyface. Ah, yes. *Baker* would know, he realizes. But there’s the other Baker as well. Which is the real power in town? That’s what he has to find out next.
Pretty man Wilson Wheeler walks around the corner and into the bar.
“And what the f-ck are you suppose to be?” he asks the small, pipe smoking figure. Terry keeps grinning and winking.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0006, 0209, Heterocera, Rubi^
It was simply going to be too expensive for Wheeler and Buster to live in Ratcliff. $L600 a week for a store and an apartment (!). And they weren’t even going to use the store part of the equation.
But wait… the store property directly across the street is only $L200 per week. Hmmm.
They talk at the neighboring Corner Pocket after a tension releasing game of pool. Buster sank the 8 ball to win. Wheeler proclaims she is sleepy and lays her head on the bar table. Buster ponders options.
“This doesn’t feel right Wheeler. We have no business to promote here. I’m not sure a residential status by itself qualifies for town citizenship. And you always seem drained and unhappy.”
“Something about the place, yeah,” Wheeler admits, yawning. “Thank you again for not selling me out to that Tonshi person up in Lapara. I certainly don’t want to be anyone’s wife.”
“Nor will you have to,” reassures Buster. “But we do need a place to exist. Why not Collagesity?”
“I’m not ready to go back. There’s too much else in the world to explore. Time is short.”
“I agree. VHC City?” he then offers. “Let’s go see the PCH Woods anyway. An old haunt (for me).”
“Alright. Can I change costumes first?”
—–
“We could stay in the witch house over there,” states Buster, laying in a familiar, old tree.
“No, I’m not doing that. No more dueling witches. Oz is dead.”
“Oz *is* dead,” agrees Buster. “The forest here is history. And… VHC City? Obviously I can’t go as I am now. I’d have to be in disguise.”
“It would just be too hard for you Buster.”
He sighs. “You’re right. It’s not like the old days when the Novas — Clare, Summerhill, Golden Bee-ing, even Orange — cooperated with each other. Clare was so good to hide me here in these woods when I got in trouble in Olde Lapara Towne. Then she used her sibling ring to get me set up in VHC City. But all that’s over. No… but we’re running out of options.”
They looked at each other. The obvious option remained: return to OLT.
—–
Bendy’s door stood wide open. “Bendy?” they called. No answer. “Let’s try the hotel,” suggested Buster.
“Peter! You’re still here.”
“Not… for long,” he exclaims. “Bendy… left town. With Prissy!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0005, 0209, Heterocera, Lapara^, Pond District^, VHC City^
“It’s a shame about Snowbob’s mother. Surely he knows, along with the father.”
“They know that she’s on assignment in Corsica, Old Mabel, and something has happened. Mr. Owens just came from Corsica and the sim in question.”
“I did. I just got information that I may not be returning,” spoke the chef/detective. “The filly I was tailing got wind of my investigation and set sail in the middle of the night. I may be staying here a bit longer than I planned. But the new mystery has got its claws in me now. It’s that book.” He pulled the stained slip of paper out of his pocket and opened it in Baker Bloch’s direction. “Pill,” he repeated. Baker Bloch could clearly see the word. It was the third time he had shown it to him. Yes, his interest was certainly piqued. “In the wine,” he added. “Wine,” he emphasized.
“Yeah, we’ve known something odd was going on (in that direction) for a long, long time Mr. Owens — Kenny. I might as well start calling you Kenny since you may be staying with us a while. The main question for now is: why did the giant female show up in the middle of the sim in question and play a game of roshambo with the tiny Minoan who is now Old Mabel’s good friend? Then why did that somehow open up a door or window or something into the place beside the motel you were staying in and allow (us) a glimpse into the firey death of Snowbob’s poor mother caused by this Jerome fellow? Who is Jerome T. Newton? He’s obviously a killer. Then there’s the burnt-to-a-crisp cow across Robin Lane.”
“I’ll talk with the giant,” said Old Mabel, sitting on the floor between the two and still staring up at the newest Bogota collage, at its central Snowmanster and what might have been. Christmas. “She’s got a name, by the way: Brenda. Jiff — the tiny Minoan you speak of — and Brenda are friends.” More than friends she almost said, but decided not to reveal that whole story yet. So big and so small. How does that work? she asked herself yet again.
Kenny yawned and stretched his arms. “I guess I better head back over to Collagesity North and get some shut eye now; have to get up early for the interviews with Snowbob and his father. ‘Preciate you showing me around the galleries tonight. Weird I’m in them. I know more. I must digest.”
Goodnights all around after that, with Baker Bloch and Old Mabel remaining in front of the newly hung Bogota 08 as Kenny teleports downstairs.
“He knows too much,” said Baker to the Martian.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0209, collages 2d, Heterocera, Rubi^
Sunklands 