Category Archives: 0211

May 10, 2026 · 5:53 am

00500211 (bunny 02?)

“XXX Dream; It’s real!” she said as he approached from the south, having checked out a bit of the new green grasslands before moving north into settled country. Right on the line he is up above. (Visiting in the) daytime of course. Biff Carter dare not come here during the night; had to remain a tether to reality for Shelley and the others under his new management. He’s *not* going back to that dirty, dingy, claustrophobic restaurant on the edge of his village. Simply no to all that, he solidifies. “Just like in Concrete, Washington,” she continued, thinking of bigfoot there, the Man in Brown, so on. People didn’t want to see but still: there he is. The last thing shot before the quintessential Google Street View car found its final resting spot atop the Eiffel Tower, one of the most recognizable landmarks on Planet Earth. Until now. He was upon her, took in her Pink again. “Check out the parcel description if you don’t believe me.” She held out her white stick cigarette. “Hit?”

“No thanks I’m trying to cut back. And: I believe you about the parcel.” Yeah, he’d checked just in case while walking up. Like I said, he had everything to lose. Had to make sure *Shelley* wasn’t dreaming. XXX it was. But he didn’t tell her this, wanted to at least exude pretend confidence in her judgement, her grasp on truths.

“Soo… have you made a decision?”

“I have. Silver. No Mosquitoes.”

“Seven, then.”

“Yeaahh. Seven.” She reflexively looked down at the pinkness all about her body. Including the part alien skin, she knew. Thanks Baker Blinker!

Biff understood this was dangerous territory and that 7 could still overtake 9 since 9 could not probably move into 10 any more, safety zone on the other side of likewise static zero. But — the exuding.

“Ready for this, then?” X in triplicate form again. She hadn’t tried this out yet. Scared she was. And him through her. No restaurant no restaurant no restaurant. This experiment better *pan* out, else back to the pots and. He made sure they were on the same page of the script down here before heading upwards. Double check, *triple* check.

It worked! Biff remained manager of music not food. He knew this triplet form of Pink would *sell*. TBC

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January 20, 2026 · 10:30 pm

00490211

We’ll return to the theme of all encompassing, all absorbing toilets soon, but first we must introduce yet another location into this here photo-novel 49 blog story, and, yes, I can hear the reader groan and/or sigh here from the weariness of keeping track of them, ha. Place called Heartsdale which is no stranger to the photo-novels as a whole, having already appeared in (as I’m checking) 03, 08, 13, 19, 23, and especially 20 of the run. 20 is also where Paperville has been most prominently featured, but that might be what we could call an “accident”. Let’s say that for now. Anyhoot, Heartsdale seems pertinent because of this Missouri based motel within the 1 sim urban area named “Mad Misery” due to a sign malfunction. Actual name before the breaking: Madry Wise. Scene of not one but several tragedies according to the attached story.


from photo-novel 20

1-2-3-4-5 the rooms are numbered along a north-south line within the sim…

… just like with the Wilson City-Wyatt fused town seen in section 01 of the current photo-novel also found in Missouri. Pretty sure they’re, let’s call it, synchromystically connected. Another TILE.

But let’s start in the “beyond the game” 6th room where we can secretly peer into at least the 5th. Wilson. (TBC)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0211, Heartsdale+, Missouri, Paperville+, Weird-o Islands+

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September 28, 2025 · 8:09 am

00480211 (Michael)

—–

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June 18, 2025 · 7:26 am

00470211 (brick)

“You’ve got to hide me, Roberts. Behind the secret wall with the dog. My girlfriend Tessa’s trying to kill me again!”

“Again?” questions Roberts, then uses her own magical 3rd eye to discover the truth. “Ahh. *Overlap*. Again — right.”

“Right?”

“Well. If you go back there there’s a fair chance he’ll absorb you, the 20 right and the 4 left, which are all wrong.”

“20 right and 4 left, er, wrong, yeah. Got it.”

“That leaves you with 5/6ths odds of your self surviving. I’m just telling you the risks up front.”

As an answer, Arthur Kill lays his own 6 shooter on Roberts’ desk, part of the deal. He’s desperate. He’s seen the Oracle map of New York into New Jersey, south into north. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance against *her*. These are certainly better odds than the Mexican standoff he’s facing otherwise. That damn eye (!). The only way to beat it is to find another eye. Thus: Roberts here.

Roberts inspects the gun and sees that it is the correct one. She presses a button under her desk. The door opens, Spider revealed to him once more. 2130, etc…

“You are free to enter, Arthur Stanford Kill.” She keeps staring at him intensely. He faced life and death if he didn’t do this but he also faces it here, just not with the odds stacked totally against him. Can he stay positive and not descend into negativity? That’s the ultimate question. His survival still depends on it.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0211, Cable Isle, Jeogeot, New York, Towerboro

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March 27, 2025 · 1:04 pm

00460211 (the 1 that got away)

—–

“It was the perfect balance, Wheeler. Our Collagesity should have been integrated into NWES City, lesser to bigger. Red yellow green blue but also orange as the 5th.

“We failed.”

“But now we have a way to redeem ourselves,” balanced Wheeler, wiser in worldly ways than ever. The Baker Family here is still strong. And now with a new home. A new CENTER.

Let the butterflies fly I suppose.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0211, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, NWES Island

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December 15, 2024 · 5:12 pm

00450211 (middle)

“I’m going to have to land here and refuel at this halfway point buddy, in that I’m going to have to eat something! Sugar’s great but the energy runs out quick! Hey?!” he says, not hearing anything from the rear. “You all right back there?! Still with me I hope,” he said more under his breath, remembering the loop-de-loop they had to do to get away from the Vortex Monsters at Mt. Granny on the eastern side of the continent, this Nautilus that also was part of a hypercube of some dimension, some dimension indeed. But the hypercube shape was also the way Princess Pinky Gumm knew where they were all along. Just travel in any direction to 1/2way where you want to be and there you are.

“Yeah. I’m still here.” Fink was a little dizzy but otherwise fine from the adventure so far. “Warm and cozy curled up inside your big doggy belly, ho ho.”

“Yeah, but it’s time to let you go. HUUU WAAAAA!”

“Another really gross moment, Jack! YUCK,” says Fink, now expelled behind the plane and watching Jack shrink back to his regular size and shape before him. He shakes himself dry of the intestinal juice — he *hopes* it’s just intestinal juice — and stands up.

Perfect timing, because just then Princess Pinky Gumm arrives in her gummmobile — er, gummobile. Pink in color obviously, like herself. “Fink, Jack! So it’s *you*.”

“Yeah,” says Jack nonchalantly. “I guess we’ve returned or something.”

“*10* years, fellows. 10… YEARS. Where on God’s pink Earth have you been?”

“Umm,” says Fink, scratching his head.

“Err,” says Jack, scratching somewhere else.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0211, Big Woods, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Oooo

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September 17, 2024 · 12:20 pm

00440211

It started with flamingos…

… it ended with flamingos.

And in-between, Fern found a new home for Lichen and herself while they investigate the developing super city of upper right central Maebaleia, the one northeast north and northwest all of its old capital of X-City. 100 lindens a week — quite reasonable. And a pool! Ah the joys of summer in fall, never mind the bit of rain this morning.

Chopper sounds in the distance. Approaching. Fern’s been waiting.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0211, Maebaleia/Satori, X-City

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June 11, 2024 · 10:16 pm

2077 NPC Issues 01: Twins

And these less than 3 minutes from each other on the same recorded walk from 4 months ago as of this writing. Next up: the rarer but still occurring triplet sightings, maybe even 4 at a time??

Video provided by the blog assimilated Youtuber “Lettuce Walk” (actually: “Let’s Walk”).


his pretend banner

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0043, 0211, C2077, NIGHTSITY, Rancho C

March 6, 2024 · 4:32 am

00420211

When I awoke, I was encased in sand except for my head. Took a minute to figure out what happened. “Okay, *veeery* funny,” I said to anyone within earshot, hoping someone would fess up to the crime. “Veery funny indeed.” I moved around a bit and my left “sand tit” partially collapsed in the effort. Soon it was all gone, the fake body with no alpha indeed, as I worked my way free. I brushed myself off — Wendy’s dress, exposed arms and legs — of the remaining sand as best I could, looked around. Difficult to tell from facial expressions who the guilty one (or guilty ones) was (or were)… since everyone around me had what appeared to be *bowling balls* for heads. What gives? I asked myself. I walked up to the nearest one. “You there, er, sir. Did you see what someone did to me over there?” I didn’t want to indict the person just because he was closest to the scene. I checked his arms and legs — any sign of digging? None that I could tell. But of course he could have just washed them off in the water.

“Ask Okema,” spoke a muffled voice from the dark ball head of the man. He pointed in the distance to a crowd of ’em playing volleyball. Sumo wrestlers on a break from their regular sport?

It was time to find out who Okema was. Or did he say Omega? I decided to slur the name when I said it to be safe.

“Okay, chumps, who of you lot is named Okemga?” Jeez, one of these f-cks isn’t even wearing a cloth or whatever they call the undergarment, I thought. No one spoke up, just kept silently playing volleyball, with the only distinct sound coming from the ball itself contacting either hand or sand.

“Behind you, young Wendy,” finally said the true “Okemga”, which actually turned out to be his name. I’d morphed Okema and Omega into the correct word. What are the odds?

As he spoke, I remembered earlier. I was putting suntan lotion on my pale pink legs while Okemga looked over, no bowling ball in sight. Regular head — just staring. He admitted he was disappointed that I was wearing that masking dress in the water so he decided to create a pretend body with sand while I later (soundly) dozed on the beach. “Did you like it?” he said with amusement, ball gone now in the present too. “Enhancements — you should think about it, ha.”

I met him again 2 days later in town while walking around the red topped building one last time, big dreams for it shattered. I might have asked him out then and there (I can admire bodies too!) if it weren’t for Newt and the information about human DNA in the dogs. “5 percent?!” I shouted when he laid down the bad news at the Pink Hippo the night of March 1st. In like a lion indeed. I’d have to leave town with my tail between my legs. Back to Old Hen to shut down the original Wendy’s too. I’d have to start over… somewhere. I thought about vegetables and salads for the first time in a long while.

(to be continued)

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December 4, 2023 · 6:20 pm

00410211

She learned the truth about the chest that day. Octavia’s.

Borneo chest. Square. Iowa. Flying — planes (and lines (and points)).

He was… fascinated with that chest! she realized. What’s inside? Pictures of Octavia. Letters of love. Notes: “don’t forget to pick up milk at Speedy Mart before our rendezvous tonight” (etc.).

—–

She went back to her old home in (Paper-)Soap to check Mouse’s new info against her mother’s.

“Greene’s Motel,” she started. “That’s where the doctor — my father — said I was conceived.”

“Well there’s a green *door* inside. Along with a green phone. Maybe that’s what he was referring to.” Her Maw, Octavia Tart III, wondered if the old man perhaps was getting senile and confusing names with each other, overlapping colors where they shouldn’t be. Always fascinated with hues the good doctor was. Maw Tart wasn’t surprised that her old lover was involved with fellow doctors named Gray(son) and Brown, for example — fits the pattern. “Blue?!” he said one time to her, rubbing off the rouge she just put on that morning thinking it would please him. “I said red!” he said. Purple at the least, he thought to himself. She believed that was the day Alice came along. The door to her standard 104 room was locked for some reason — had to do it out back. Perhaps it was occupied, she realized now. Yes, Daisy was working that day as well. Made sense suddenly. Alice was conceived in the alley because of Daisy (she imagined). She’d have to mark it in her “Little Book of Vengeance” against the fellow hooker, now going on 12 (or 32) years at the Lucky Motel. 12 (or 32) years is too long — can’t call her Lucky now. Her: 6 (or 26). She still has some luck left but it’s running out quick. Mouse was a way out but wasted. No luck with Robert either, the owner of the swamp. Or so she thought.

“What about Claude? The golden robot?”

“What *about* Claude?” Maw Tart got tense all of a sudden, felt a surge of the unknown and probably unknowable coming, like in the Dark Days. Before the Coming of Jesus into her heart.

“Well… I mean, he — I mean, *she’s* in Cass City now. And he’s fiddling with her.”

“I bet he is,” spouts Maw Tart through the fear. Pleasure robots, *pheh*.

“No. I mean, he’s tinkering with her. Like in her parts.”

“My statement still stands.”

“*No*. Like… *reprogramming*. What do you know about the numbers 1886 and 1936?”

“I know they’re *years*.”

“50 years. Between them, I mean.”

“I’m counting, let’s see, 3822,” Maw countered, showing off her math skills and being difficult at the same time. The fear was standing just behind her now, threatening to reach into her chest with its shadowy paw and pull out her savior.

“He’s interested in hues. Red to yellow to green to blue. Or something.”

“Hues, *huh*.”

“He’s doing *something* to that robot. He’s spying on his prospective replacements, Maw.”

“HUH — wish *I* had a replacement. Then I could go work at the beer factory they opened up in Barrow County; become like Laverne and Shirley like I always wanted to.”

Alice didn’t have the heart to tell her mother. Barrow County was no more. She’d been sending her postcards from the Void.

(to be continued)

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