Category Archives: 0213

Newt

He thought she was going to wear her new hair, but purple’s cool, purple’s cool. He wasn’t going to bring the subject up. She had her reasons. Instead he decides to talk about the girls.

“Venus is working hard on her novella.” He could hear her typing all the way over here.

“Novel,” corrected Eyela in a sweet but stern voice. “And Mistress is helping with it too.”

“Sure, sure.” He looks over at the townhouse on the northern edge of the property, (the girls’) home away from home. “I’d like to read it.”

“Well they don’t want you to.”

“*You* can.”

“*I’m* different.” That seemed to be a dead end subject too. Maybe switch back to the hair. He pointed.

“I thought –”

“Don’t start with the hair,” she requested, knowing what he was doing. “I — didn’t like the way it, ahem, set my eyes.”

He didn’t ask for explanation of this cryptic reply. Was there another subject he could broach while they sat in their hot tub, waiting for the guests to arrive? Tonight was the big night! He decided to talk about that.

“Tonight’s the big–”

“Don’t,” she cut him off. “Just don’t.”

—–

He was reminded when he walked back into the house after their long vacation that they had too many servants, perhaps way too many. But, to their credit, they were all still hard at work, manning their various posts. Gregg the Greeter in the foyer, now waiting for the first guests to arrive.

Sam the Scrubber up on the second level, still trying to get the last of those blood stains out of the wooden floor. Almost got it.

David the Duster as well. If only those damn dogs all about the house would stop shedding, he constantly thinks.

And Cookie the Cook, waiting for the tea to boil. Guests start showing up in about 30 minutes. Tea had to be hot but not too hot. Water might have to be reboiled but he’s ready if so. Bags just in that cabinet over there. He measures the steps to reach it. 7 he’s counting. And 5 bags for each pot. And 8 guests due to arrive. Two pots, then. Better put on a second kettle.

And, closest to them presently, Willie the, um, Watcher. Waiting for his wife to get out of the tub so he can slip a robe on her. He probably needs to go first. But that was also her special request, the last one hired. Don’t think he can then be the first to go. Can he?

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0213, Big Woods, Jeogeot

hollowed out volcano

Baker Bloch trying to love his new, temporary home and forget that his Collagesity rent is now 1 day overdue, pheh. PHEH.

He hasn’t quite got the lighting in here, he thinks. Trying out “Fairy dark blue (Paulina)” currently.

View of the place from the west. Complicated. Potentially many stories to tell within with the many dummies present. Just like Towerboro before it. Wonder how Towerboro is progressing — still a work in progress after all, according to the land description. But Baker shouldn’t be focused on the past. Instead: current. *Dairochia* — yes, that’s the name I concocted several novels ago now. Because we’ve been here before. Library. Looking for a particular book about monsters. Then: stolen.

And it has a secret core, Baker also remembers. Where the letter “l” was exchanged for an “i’.

Time to bring in Wheeler.

—–

“Morgan, eh? Just like Alysha.”

“Yeah,” Baker answered Wheeler. “I’m positive she’s still here.”

“She stole the book, she stole the letter. She won’t be welcomed in this here kingdom of several powers that be.”

“No,” agreed Baker.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0213, Dairocha, Nautilus, North

we know what will happen (this is part of Nautilus too)

Baker Bloch eats alone, Baker Blinker having excused herself to take her sub down to the beach. They’re apart again. When will the joining together occur once more? Soup’s getting cold. Better force yourself to take another bite. Spoon down… spoon up. There ya go (*slurp*).

—–

Later:

What’s he pointing to, Baker thinks while mimicking the gesture then following the indication.

Maybe this…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0213, Nautilus, North, Upper Austra^

Boo!

Not4Sale.

Crystal suddenly found herself confronted with an enigma, a puzzle, a riddle. Where had she just heard about this?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0213, New Island^, Omega^^

root of the problem

He found her in a town full of bigots and zombies on the other side of the wall, a mere apple’s toss from where he was before. Annaball or Annabell, the pretty, white, raspberry beret wearing woman of the night who was dating that [black guy] who just broke into town one day, stole all its dignity. She had ambitions, she did. The hooker aspect was just to tide her over until her *real* dreams kicked in. Plus she really wasn’t a hooker; they just hung that tag on her back because of the incident in the alley and it stuck. A lot of things get stuck in this town of 9 that can’t quite reach 10, however hard it might try at times (try 3.16 instead of 3). “And to think she use to teach our children!” exclaimed one when learning about the alley. “Abhorrent,” hissed the other sitting across from the first, still below the TILE colored lights where green mysteriously switches with yellow at times, another round and round situation. If only the carousel could stop. We have to get off.

“‘Nautilus,’ she said to me (he relayed later on to the proper authorities). ‘I have to get back to Nautilus.'”

“And you just let her *go*?”

“I didn’t… have any choice.”

“Dot dot dot,” the authority figure chided. “It’s always dot dot dot for you lot. You’re as bad as her,” he finalized, spiked helmet secured on zombie head with a dead leather strap. Or so they say.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0213, Jeogeot, Sunklands^

Head

5 til 3! she thought while looking out at the big Hooktip clock tower with her red and white umbrella peepers. I’ve got to get going!

I put on the garb of a white mage tonight, trying to act like I knew what I was doing. I was able to sit down on a diamond shaped plot of good ol’ actual Linden grass in a mainly artificial terrain constructed by the land owner of this little forest here, one Clare Nova. Remember her? Anyway I was smack dab on the Diagonal, at, let’s see, 36, 35. Close enough, as they say. One off of any of the two (or three) numbers is okay — difficult to tell any difference in the, um, energy, quote unquote. “It’s often not what’s right on The Diagonal,” I say to myself almost religiously, “it’s what you *see* from it.” Like that clock in the background Shelley Struthers up in the middle of the sim might be looking at at the same time. Actually, nope, in checking she’s put on that long Pepper shirt she likes now and is starting to brush her luxurious blonde hair (to her) in front of the vanity mirror. One stroke, she counts, two… three. Always 30 and she’s perfectly beautiful, almost as much as Ginger Granite down the lane. She can never get her bearings in this sim for some reason. What was its name?

30.

She splashes water on her face and prepares to face the world.

Today is the day she’s going to get up the nerve to speak to Tommy Tailgate, maybe goad him into asking her out. Goad? How about “guide”? She wants to get better at doing such things. Like Ginger again.

*Shelley*. That was the name of the lane. Like her!

There. Picture perfect.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0213, Heterocera, VHC City^

polar

“Bear with us,” the small lion cub requested to the reader while the tiger ran offscreen to take a piss.

—–

“Annnnnnd ACTION!”

“Oh *my*,” the tiny cat exclaimed upon seeing the white menagerie.

She was at the heart of the heart shaped island, pale as snow. Mary was the owner. This was the foothold Jacob I. needed to get to the peninsula and away from Leila, then still called Eyela. Broken Heart knew they had to split up and it broke her heart to think about it. But fate must unfold properly, broken or not. “Be a lamb, dear, and make my drink for me,” Mary requested to Broken Heart after the introductory formalities. “Right over there (she pointed to the bar behind Broken Heart from this angle); Bloody Mary if you will.” Broken Heart didn’t know what she was doing in mixing the drink but she tried her best. Mary knew it would turn out perfect, whatever. After all, this was all imaginary and she had control of everything. At least at this spot. “Faaannntastic,” she said a little later while sipping, head already beginning to turn a bit red. She began to feel (like) herself again, aah. The cold was receding.

There.

But she remained a broken figure, as broken as Heart herself. They could commiserate with each other now.

“I love him.”

“No *I* do.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0213, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula

00270213

After the note he never saw her again in her original form, although a ting of blue hair remained, as Charlene the Punk explained it. In a certain light, say, at dawn or dusk. She announced she was now a messenger, *The* Messenger, and has lived a long time and seen a lot of things and was getting tired, getting wore down. She needed to pass some of her knowledge onto another. Thus the revelation of the Big Inside at this here dinner meeting at Perch. the one Jeffrie Phillips wrote about in his note slipped under her Kidd Tower door.

All she asked for in return was the monster book Jeffrie possessed. He’d bought it for a hefty price (300), but she said money was not an option. When Jeffrie asked if she meant money was not an issue, she replied, “I said what I said.” He tried to figure this out. Did she just want him to *hand* it over, no strings attached? She stared at him, 3rd eye obviously squeegeed wide open but with no drugs involved. Just wisdom derived from being a relative immortal. They called themselves that, anyway, she explained during another part of their meeting, before the mushroom and olive pizza arrived which they’d agreed upon. Despite the actual limited shelf life.

“How old are you, then?” asked Baker, mesmerized by the turn of things.

“Do you have all night for me to recite the numbers?” She winked with this, but two eyes still remained open. He was like a fish on a hook, being real real realed in. The Big Inside awaited. Yes, he had all night. But not at the Blue Feather. He knew a little hotel up at Starfish Lake that had a couch with some nifty animations. They could go there. He’d phone Charlene up and say his car broke down over in Tinseltown down at the bay. “Must have been the weighty or salty sea air,” he rehearsed in his head. She’d suspect but he had to give it a try. He’s been good before about balancing two women, heck three or four at times, he he. A natural juggler he is. But of course Sally knew this too and had also given it a shot. It worked. She was inside as well.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0213, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Upper Austra^

beach house (cooked)

Jeffrey Phillips was still in bed with the static blaring, no wake zone indeed. Hidi would have to wait until he got up to start playing chess, since black goes first and she’s white. She’s always white. The subordinate (*snap*!). She has her first seven moves figured out until he’s good and ready. He’ll be done by dinner.

—–

They were on their way back to the rocks. “You see that sign, Hidi?” Jeffrey pointed out, wishing his wife wouldn’t hide anything any more.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0213, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

Obvious Isle

He often trots over to the south side of the island to stare with Giant Pety across the water at the small isle that signifies nothing to him, wondering what it means. Perhaps the isle use to house an important structure, perhaps a lighthouse, although there are enough of those around in the vicinity now to warn any ship coming in any direction. But in the past, say before Mystery fused with Misery to become Mistery, maybe circumstances were different. A special kind of lighthouse. Another green lantern. I only say this because Giant Pety himself emits a bit of green at nighttime.

Maybe we’ll never know.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0213, Maebaleia/Satori, Outer Islands