“Well, well, well, Marion. Well well well well *well*.”
“Yes,” replied his partner in crime. Always. “What do we have *here*?” And then he waved Philip on before him. “After you,” he offered.
Category Archives: 0211
Moor(k) 02
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0211, Corsica, Gaeta V^^, Splinterwood^, Twin Peaks, Twin Peaks Laboratory
appellations
The next day they explored the city together, finding mysterious yards full of containers and pipes…
… non-operating, unfinished subways…
… and loads and loads of apartments, the great majority unrented.
Well, if they don’t like the present neighbors (and they *do* have neighbors themselves — more on that soon, perhaps), there’s plenty of other places to live here. No land for sale in the area, though, except for one small 512 going for 58.6 lindens per square meter. By contrast, Baker Bloch paid an average of about 0.7 lindens for the land he set up 7 Stones on about 5 months back. So: expensive! Way too costly to contemplate another purchase, even if he had the tier freed up for it. So this is strictly a rental scene for his extended family, to tell a story about a burg much larger than 7 Stones, and its promise but also, yes, failure to live up to expectations. Rows upon rows upon rows of apartments, a strong police presence, pockets of interesting neighborhoods. But not enough, Sandy had determined a while back, and now with Merry Gouldbusk joining in the lament. Not enough to ultimately survive.
I compare with VHC City, a considerably smaller affair than NWES (still much bigger than 7 Stones, though), but with a strong, central *structure* the whole community is built around and which keeps it thriving. This would be the Virtual Hotel Chelsea, a dominating force. NWSE has no such centerpiece that I can tell, *unless* this police hq can become it.
Probably not, but thought I’d mention. Merry and Sandy Herbert also visited there this fine, crisp early October day. Merry saw something she didn’t understand.
“Look, *Herbert Dune*,” she declared while pointing upward. “INGO,” she pronounced clearly. She had said INGOR before and they had to reshoot the scene. But it was a logical mistake, *because* Ingor Ratts was a famous figure from WES, the town that kind of sort of prefigures New WES, or what we now call NWES. “Like the four directions, North West East South, combined into one,” Herbert Dune explains another time for Merry about the town’s name origin. “It’s pieces of a puzzle fitted together. Here, let me show you. I know this dude uptown who can tell us more.” But before we get to that: the first name. Merry Gouldbusk again here, then:
“INGO, Herbert Dune, is my *brother*, my slightly older brother.”
“Big Brother, then,” states Herbert Dune while nodding. “I know how they are.”
She stared at the banner again, realizing: he’s been watching me all along!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0211, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, Jeogeot, Neptune, NWES Island^
Option 2
“Gee, Dad. You’re driving especially fast today. Um…”
“You just hold onto that lime, Son. That’s an important part of your school presentation today.”
“I know,” he recites indifferently. “World of Lemon; Lime World. Contrast between the two. Blah blah blah, pheh.”
“Hold on, Son. Another curve. Wheeeee!”
“Gosh Dad, your cap blew off on that one. And your hair’s all poofed up and spiky too.”👍
“Never mind that, Son.” SCREEEEEEECH. “We’re here. “Rooster Springs Backwoods Middle School. Where you’re in the middle…”
“I know, I know,” Preston recites mechanically again in the pause. “… which is (and his dad joins in here) unfortunately in the way.”
Preston gets out, peers cautiously at the school front door for potential allies and foes. “See you soon, kid.” Then he was gone in a whirlwind of burnt rubber and skid marks.
Potential new enemy Bruce Bulkhead. Probably is.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0014, 0211, Elmaer^, Maebaleia/Satori, Pipersville/Sink X^
RYS
A small shop I’d like to open in the heart of Rosehaven but probably never will. Has little to do with knitting, weaving and sewing. Instead: tales, with tall preferred.
Let’s begin with this:
https://rosehavenblog.wordpress.com/tag/the-mists/
And here’s the bit that links this yarn with the other:
https://rosehavenyarn.com/color/mist/
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0211, Canada/Picturetown, Rose Heaven^^
Heeeeeere’s…
He decided to confront Eraserhead Man when the latter seemed almost passed out from his 4th 4 shot latte of the evening. EM had been wrangling, wrangling, wrangling with the roles of both Smithy and Doris Drone, going back and forth on each one with the different, involved actors. At this very moment, the famed director was even casting about in his mind recasting someone else as Hebert Dune besides Sandy Beech to better fit the mood. Not the best timing for an approach by his antsy production star, then.
“Is that the latest version?” the towering Sandy questioned about the rust colored book on the table. He had a weird notion just to snatch it and run off right here and now. The director didn’t answer immediately, didn’t even look up to acknowledge his presence. *Meditation*, Sandy then realized. EM was in really deep with this one. To startle him might even induce some kind of heart malfunction, he further contemplated. Best to walk away, his better senses commanded. Confront EM another time. But: no. His worse senses shoved their way to the fore again, fortified by insecurity, greed, envy. He slammed his hand down *hard* on the book he knew was the production script.
Eraserhead Man came out of it by shouting “ice cream anyone!!” at the top of his lungs, then slowly, gradually managed to free himself from the self induced trance. He looked around, blinked his eyes. He looked up at Sandy. “Sandy! I was just thinking about you! What a surreptitious interruption of my nirvana state. *You’re* *fired*!!”
Eraserhead Man stared at him blankly, watching Sandy Beech squirm like a fish in front of him. “I’m just kidding!” he then uttered after a pretty long interval. “Sit down!” Eraserhead Man then realized there was not another seat at this table. “Oh, let’s just move to the porch. Give me a bit to further compose myself! You go ahead! Any seat will do! Just give me a moment please!”
A shaken, humbled Sandy Beech dutifully took a seat on the porch behind EM and waited on him, but after about 15 minutes the director simply got up out of his chair and walked in the direction of his bungalow down the street, not turning around. The next day he acted like the event never happened; work relationship back to normal. And maybe, Sandy pondered then, it never did. He was a little high on those wacko pills Laverne Glam had sold him, after all. He remembered Eraserhead Man even glowing a bit in hindsight. *Never* do drugs around EM again, he told himself. Ever.
But: Lavern Glam? How did *she* get here?
Wait. I think it was Franklin Bowers who sold him the pills. Yes. Lives in the zircon encrusted RV out on self named Bowers Beach just outside Urbane Blue. We might visit him next. Not for pills, but just for another shoot.
“Frank Bowers!!” Eraserhead Man shouts upon waking up in the middle of the night.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0010, 0211, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island^
Sunklands 