When I entered the room, I was alone. Except for the complete bastard of a man known as Casey One Hole. Philip was no more. I figured he was shuffled back to Gaeta V, since my corresponding shirt had also disappeared.
“I didn’t need something. But I *wanted* it. Now I have it.”
I walked in front of him to confront the demon. “Tell me where she is,” I demanded.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0212, Corsica, Gaeta V^^, Splinterwood^, Twin Peaks, Twin Peaks Laboratory
She didn’t find anything today! Her name was Guyd but she was so far away from being a *guide* it wasn’t funny. She must be more successful tonight. She would work overtime to do it. But which way to go?
She lazily decided Gyre/Crow, because that would give her 2 choices instead of 1 down the road. Er, tunnel. She was heading from Wabe, which may be the same as Wabd (which would explain the greenup yd (yellow down) eyes). We’ll see.
This was a labyrinth and that’s a fact.
—–
She’d reached the tracks. She didn’t like the tracks because humans lived amongst them. She and humans didn’t quite get along. Because most of them had *dogs*. Dog Island should have been erased and destroyed while they had them all rounded up there, she feels. That was only 2 outside days ago. Perhaps there’s still time….
And she’d missed her exit to Gyre. Oh well. Straight across the tracks it was. *Surely* she wouldn’t get lost. Again. Waste another day.
—–
Phew! That was close.
But that human smelt funny. Almost like he was a… No. Couldn’t be. Could it? Guyd again thinks of destruction/erasure. Should have gotten rid of them with the chance. Now they could be *anywhere*. *Anything* anywhere (apparently). But then, maybe she could turn into a human as well if needed. That would be handy. She’d have to check the status of new, magical powers with Rebl tomorrow. Hopefully with *good* news to relay. She so wanted to be a true guide some day like her. Stepping stones, she calmed himself. One slipping rock at a time.
She never can remember where this tunnel leads across the tracks. Oh well. Onward and upward!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0212, End of Time^^
They were watching “Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein” on the tellie tonight, a logical choice. At a predictable chase scene through a haunted castle, Merry Gouldbusk leans over and tells Herbert Dune that she got in contact with her brother about the banners. Herbert Dune arches his spiraling eyebrow a little higher, Spock style. “Welll?” he replied, thinking she needs to speak up for the microphones. But, overall, her acting was acceptable lately. She’d been taking lessons from one of the best. She’d learned a lot since Rosehaven. Except for the occasional name slippages she was fine. But just that: acceptable. Ordinary, even. Oh Alice Frame, Sandy Beech thought, how’d I get chained down with you. I am like a clipped Icarus.
“He said he had nothing to do with it,” answered Merry Gouldbusk, speaking up a bit at the encouragement of Bob Waffleburg off-camera.
“How,” stumbled Herbert Dune, then started again. “How is that *possible*?”
“*Dad-dy*,” Satan’s spawn Melvin complained from the pillow beside them, totally immersed in the castle shoot.
“Tell you what, young demon. You’ve stayed up too long past your bedtime already. Time to join your brethren upstairs. We’ll continue the movie tomorrow night.”
“Awww,” he exclaimed not too loud while obediently getting up and stretching and yawning. For a little demon, he was quite well behaved. They all were. Except Spunky of course.
—–
“Annnd. ACTION!”
“So explain what you said before.”
“About the banners?”
“Of course.” Stop ad libbing, Sandy Beech thought bitterly inside. Stick to the script!
“Welll…”
“Wellll?” Herbert Dune echoed back.
“He said he didn’t do it.”
—–
Sandy Beech complained to director Bob Waffleburg afterwards. “Jeez, it’s right there on the banner. *INGO*. How could her slightly older brother, her *Big Brother* after all, not be head of the police state here and spy on her all the time? Answer me that genius director.” Before, Eraserhead Man and his disjointed plots. Now, Bob Waffleburg’s logic gaffes. And he’s not a surrealist. No excuse for him!
“We’re… working on it,” is all he could answer that moment. Later, while the two were drinking at Spunky’s on Southside (no relation to Spunky the little demon), he let slip a little more. “It involves rats. *hiccup* And a secret room. *BURRP*”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0212, Apple's Orchard, Jeogeot, NWES Island^
“We’ll have friends here, love. Already you are jogging with that Chicken man. Lover of Marcus Fox Smartville I assume. Since they live together next door.”
“Correct.” Chesteria A. Arthur tried to make her tone as flat as possible. Grey Scale Kimball still stared at her, but she was only thinking of a next topic. She suspected something, but it didn’t cross her mind right this second.
“And I’ll get my furniture shipped in as soon as possible. Just wanted to see if I — I mean, we liked it well enough to go to all that trouble.”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Chesteria exclaimed about the house, noting the stumble. “It’s perfection. Swan Lake. Swan Lake with an island. Swan Lake with an island with swans. Two of ’em! Just like us. Living in perfection.
But I can’t help notice,” she continued in a somewhat different tone, “that one stays on the island all the time while the other roams about freely. Wonder why?”
Grey Scale Kimball stares again, this time thinking about Chicken Itza and Marcus Fox Smartville directly. True to Baker Bloch’s Arnold’s worries, she called a council meeting the very next day to discuss the possibility. The Kevins’ stood up for the ersatz couple, though. Good thinking Arnold!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0212, Maebaleia/Satori, Regaltown^
They both wanted a role, and they were a natural pair. Reintroducing to the reader or readers: Tealy and Tillie. Combined: TILY.
They lived here:
—–
“Perfect day isn’t it Tillie.”
“It always is Tealy.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0014, 0212, Maebaleia/Satori, Rubisea
She was really planning to stay here long term, he pondered from his plywood cube. Brought all of her exercise equipment over here, her personal gym. Not to be confused with her personal Jim, hehe. But he must remain serious. He’ll ask her as politely as possible to remove it all tomorrow. Or sometime this week. Sometime this month at the very least. Because (as we’ve pointed out) he’s stuck. Stuck in Time. Stuck in Money. Stuck in Brain Damage really, given that he is 2 Rogers in one. Roger Pine Ridge both (as also pointed out before [but much further back]).
What to do with the basement space, though? The upper part: living quarters. But here he could make… a studio again? Make music once more. Just start beating on stuff.
And there’s good and kind neighbor Grassy to consider. His landlord in effect. No, not his landlord… let’s just have them visit each other for a spell…
—–
“Dum de *dum* de dum.”
—–
“The late breakfast was, er, *special*, Grassy Noll. Just like you.”
“Thank you.” Was there sarcasm involved with his speech patterns? the Mmmmmm thought, then waved it off. Of course not. This is Roger Pine Ridge. Destined to be his best neighbor ever. Much more so than the Petersons, who left in the middle of the night to live in Alcatraz. And the Archibalds left much to be desired as well. He was a bit actor and she studied acting a bit. Go figure.
“I hear you are a famous thespian in your small area of the universe,” offered Roger, trying to ignore the fullness of his stomach and the needlessness for it.
“I am!” Grassy automatically started listing off the productions he starred in. “‘Salad Bar Jack in the River of Tile’ — I’m sure you’ve heard of that.”
“No.”
“Then ‘Salad Bar Jack of All Trades’, ‘Salad Bar Jack be Nimble’…”
“I’m going to stop you there, Grassy. Grassy Noll. My most excellent neighbor.” He peers at his watch, not trying to hide it.
“Time,” Grassy spoke solemnly. “I understand.”
“And Money,” Roger quickly followed.
“Followed by…”
“We don’t speak of that.”
“Oh… right.”
Roger Pine Ridge suddenly wondered what the inside of his brain looked like, and if flowers could be successfully cultivated there given the right fertilizer.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0212, Iris^^==
The two figures become one here at the bench of the yellow roses.
“Murdochh’s” castle is nearby, spatially and temporally. Not a trip for tonight.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0212, Rose Heaven^^
“Those wacky Magenta people,” Ghost Gorilla Harambe grunted from across the bay. “Always fun to see what they’re up to next, eh King Fisher?”
“Se-VEN,” squawked the bird on the sign, meaning that he agrees.
“Ele-VEN,” he follows after a beat. King Fisher appears to agree even moreso today.
—–
“Safe Zone… Safe Hub,” G. G. Harambe’s always roommate, sometimes lover Hank “Halfwit” Graphite said to himself, with chosen nickname to disguise his amazing brilliance of mind. Like a diamond it is.
He was figuring out stuff again today. “128, 128,” he continues. “The portal must be (Hank turns and points) directly west of here.” He jumps back into his little red car and drives to the edge of Vilania.
“Shouldn’t be so obvious about it,” he grumbled while passing through.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0212, The Straight^, Utah
“Now you can all relax tonight and not jump out of your seats every time I call out your name. Because I FOUND my HEARING AID! And that’s the last time I’m going to yell, end of story! I mean, end of story. Let’s begin.”
Eraserhead Man at the head of the table pauses to collect his thoughts on the as yet unnamed production. “First, I’m so so glad we were able to gather here today without *much* ado. As you can see from the person sitting directly opposite you on the table, I haven’t got rid of *anyone*. Truth is, you *all* won your parts. And I’d like to introduce to you Desert Knobb across from our beloved Sandy Beech and to my left. Sandy is, of course, seated to my right.” Eraserhead Man indicates these directions with his stubby yellow hands. “Desert will not only play Sandy’s *understudy*, but also his *doppleganger*. Because, you see, I’ve decided this production should be about doubles through and through. It came to me in a dream last night. The dreamer lives inside the dream, but who is the dreamer?”
Mindless mumbo jumbo, Sandy Beech was thinking by his side while glaring at newly arrived Desert Knobb across the table. “And where’s *your* double, EM?” he piped up. Yeah, he had popped a few pills before the meeting — just to steel his nerves.
“Good question, Sandy. Can you hear me in the back there you waskly wabbits!” Eraserhead smiles as Rabbit 01, Rabbit 02, Rabbit 03 all nod their heads. I’ll get to you wackos in a minute. But next we must talk about the *ladies*, Chloe and Jill.” At that moment Chloe Price was playing with her short, blue hair, seeming not to pay attention. But that was just part of her shtick. Jill MacGill, like Sandy for his own counterpart, was just glaring at her, loathing her every petty move. *I* should have won this role through and through. I *nailed* that phone call. ‘Ohh, ahem, eheh,’ she mimicked, to her, Chloe’s frivolous attempts at playing coy in her mind. If you asked her, Eraserhead Man needed to make a new plan, find a new key to this whole production business. She decided to speak up as well (sidenote: wouldn’t Sandy and Jill make a *fabulous* couple. But I jump ahead of myself…): “And *what* is the production’s name, EM? *And*… you haven’t answered Sandy’s question about *your* doppleganger, I’ll tack on.”
Eraserhead Man laughs out loud. “That’s what I love about you, Jill MacGill from Farmington West. *Spunk*. You got it in spades, you and Sandy both.” That’s when it occurred to EM as well that the two would make a swell couple. He decides then and there to work that potential love interest into the script somewhere. Maybe the other two of the doppleganger pairing — Desert and Chloe — *hate* each other in contrast, hmm. EM had trouble shutting his mind off of possibilites. “But we must move on. I assume everyone knows Frank, now. Franklin Bowers.” He indicates the nearest and also darkest and tallest rabbit of the 3 at the meeting. “He’s going to play a man– er, a bunny man with that exact same name, although he’s always just addressed by his first name. Do you have any questions about what’s going on Franklin? OH, and beside him obviously is the lovely Rabbit 02, whom we’ll call Patsy in the production.” EM stops here. “Nah, let’s go with Peggy instead. Peggy,” he repeats. “Change that in all the scripts, Mary. Mary?” He looks around but Mary was nowhere to be found.
Poor soul, Franklin Bowers thinks sympathetically. Never can remember his wife is actually dead. Going on 5 years now. All we have left are her portraits. Her many many portraits.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0010, 0212, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island^
It was the first time Adelaide (Alice 02) would meet with the head doctor over at Mosh on the Main Continent, as employees of Baumbeer Enterprises liked to call it. On the way up, Adelaide pauses to consider some maps on the wall. She recognizes her present “home” sim at the top. Or sims, since it looks like the hospital owns land in both Tethia and Orr around Lake Tethia. Interesting.
But where was she *now* on this lower map, hmm?
No time. She was summoned. There wasn’t a place to sit in front of the doctor. But — he’s a *rabbit*?
And a white one at that. Rings a bell.
Surprising Adelaide again, Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer then unfurls his life story for her, starting with his birth at Braynard’s Place (chronicled in the last Collagesity novel) and extending through Gene Autry Mortuary School, The Carter Center for the Study of Bodily Fluids, and then here. “Fluid,” he emphasizes while taking a steady sip of milk (he had hid his glass of beer under the desk upon Adelaide’s arrival). “It’s what took me from place to place to place. Up and up and up.”
Adelaide wondered when he would get to her psychiatric evaluation, but it never happened.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0212, Omega^^, Pond District^
Sunklands 