“Here come the rest,” says John the Mind Reader to his character supervisor Al. “Better wrap this up.”
“Beans,” Al says to this, which encapsulated everything they just spoke about in a word.
“Here come the rest,” says John the Mind Reader to his character supervisor Al. “Better wrap this up.”
“Beans,” Al says to this, which encapsulated everything they just spoke about in a word.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0215, The Waste^^
The 2 “PLACE”s in the following July 2019 images don’t have anything do with each other except they’re both located in Mortons Gap, KY, lie on opposite sides of the same block in an e-w direction, and use apparently the same type of font and letter placement (notice the similarly askew “L” in each case). The first, with the red “C”, is a restaurant, perhaps now defunct (M & J’s Place). The second is a church (Place of Grace, with the “o” missing in “of”, you’ll notice — another “different” letter), also seemingly defunct now. Chance I come across this match just casually checking out the downtown area through Google Maps Street View? Maybe. We’ll go with maybe.
But I suspect not.
Moving out into the country a bit and continuing the playfulness, we have this tall farmer out in a field, perhaps surveying his land.
Let’s zoom in closer.
OMG. Where are his arms?? And that head!!
“Told you there was those type of holes on The Cross. Shall we?”
“Jesus, Shelley. You’re going to get us sent to the *Bad* Place with talk like that.”
“I think,” she ventured not too boldly, “we’re already there.”
“Right, heh.” After laughing nervously, he looked around, under the Umbrella again. Shelley applied more lotion. She did this every morning; said she always woke up with an itch. “How is it today?”
“Still there.” Legs now. In just a minute she’ll go inside and do the rest. Couldn’t wait until after breakfast. More bothersome than usual for some reason. Thought it was getting better.
“You really need to go to the doctor. How long has this been going on now?”
“2 months?” she questioned, trying to think back to the beginning. It was all her damn fault. And, yes, let’s blame the pandemic again. Laziness of hygiene for one. Folds increasing on the skin.
“Does it bother you when we…”
“No. No effect there.”
“That’s because we’re in the other Life. The Second one. If we were in the First, if we were real flesh and blood people, then…”
“Yeah,” she answered. “Guess so.”
—–
“Alright I’m ready.”
“Just a minute, I’m checking the stocks.”
Men, she thinks at the doorway under the mistletoe. This is going to end just like with George. The Preacher continues to be unhappy.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0215, Omega^^, The Cross^
‘There (!). At the corner of the cemetery. Just like you predicted.”
“Just like I *directed*,” corrected Baker Blinker. Back in the saddle as I said, mysterious incapacitating illness over. Zapppa it was, but with an extra p. We’ve seen him before.
He turns. They’ve seen him and that’s all he wanted. Now to find that grave which told him everything, how it begins, how it ends, all the stuff in the middle.
There were quite a few to examine…
… not even counting the 3 tombs marked Henderson, Williams, Bennett. Those don’t sound right to him, though.
But *this* could be it.
He starts digging.
“It’s a beautiful land, this Dairocha. But ultimately it does us no good if the library still isn’t there. Central! Right Wheeler?”
Wheeler, having determined this some hours back, had already left the scene. She was ready to complete this here photo-novel section about the Nautilus North elsewhere. She was Alysha now, aka Helen aka a lot of other names. But especially Helen, she felt. The antique village of Lips or One Pink called.
Under the big cross at the top of it all, he too changed. Sheriff R.V. Trailer it is to end. Wait!…
Just below. Sweeping. Lots of it; multiple brooms obviously involved. It reminded him of another place he needed to go first.
Multiple sweepers don’t remain any longer at this southeast corner bar of Odie just off Route 12, to his disappointment. Then he met grown-up Tessa and things changed even once again. He was immediately attracted to her waist high tattoo of 2 six shooters. How clever, he thought. Pointer. She leaned over and said her new name in a low voice, obscuring the ink.
He automatically leaned in too (*kiss*), One Pink or Lips transformed.
“What are you looking for, Crystal? A lemon? This is not a lemon. But: close! Over here. Behind the blue and green pillow thingies. Beyond the small forest of trees. Persimmons? Never mind that now. To the lemon (!).
“The boy is trying to tell us something. A magic mirror (!). I know, cut down on the parentheses. And the exclamation marks. And the capital letters, semi-colons and colons, parentheses within parentheses (etc.).
“It’s Ketty! Richard Ketty. Not Petty! He’s different. He’s from Randolph County. Wait!”
Crystal said she would take it from here, and: thanks (!).
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0215, Hana Lei^^
Brend woke up, having fallen asleep while reading the book about dreams. The Princess of the Diagonal’s portrait loomed above him. He looked around. Nowhere in sight. Probably out exploring leads while the day people are safely tucked in bed, some having drawn the covers over their head. It was getting cold in the Nautilus highlands. Soon the frost would move down into the coast here. Time to go buy a jacket, he contemplates, maybe a tweed one. He probably has the place to himself for a while, perhaps the rest of the night. Good time to get some work done himself.
—–
He contemplates the square before him while drinking molten silver, as they call the spiked coffee drink round these parts. He thinks of a joke here: “Do you know where the Nome King lives?” “I don’t know. Al-as-ka round.” A variation involves Anchorage, and, rarer, Douglas Fairbanks. Back to the map.
—–
“It probably all starts in Alaska don’t you think?” offers W. from the side. “Northernmost — the cold moves south; down. Parameters established — upper limit. John Fitzgerald Kennedy City,” she then utters, looking me straight in the eye.
—–
We start, of course, with the Diagonal, he thinks while studying. A lot of people enter that way; exit through Borneo. Like Marion Star Harding and his plane that turned endless instead of finite. He wore his inflammable suit which means it didn’t catch on fire which means he didn’t die. The Princess of the Diagonal is a bonafide expert on planes. She created this airport. She created Airton Hill itself, aligned it with Mount Ayr up in the through the (common) air.
—–
“You are going far,” W. encouraged. “You will get there tonight.”
—–
He drew back. He took another sip of the spiked beverage. He’d lost Iowa. He recalls the old days, when a seed was planted just east of Des Moines. JFK took a bullet for it. What would *he* sacrifice?
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0215, Iowa, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Upper Austra^
By 9 o’clock she had him sweeping the floor while she kept reading recipes, trying to decide. One thing she knew, butter would be involved — not glisteny enough now. She floated some toward her from the table.
Peter Cotton wasn’t surprised, because of the hat and all. And he’d heard rumors in the village about witchcraft up on the hill. So when Hatti propositioned him in the streets of VHC City after his shift at the mill he thought he’d give it a try — something new. His current girlfriend Frieda Friendly wasn’t hacking it for him in the bedroom right now. He desired something a bit more, um, magical? Maybe. Different anyway. He didn’t know, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he wanted change, and change he would get. If he wasn’t killed first by the dinner.
Peter Cotton was best friends with Tommy Tailgate, who also got propositioned in this merry month of May (or August (or October)). He was also on a date. “Excuse me while I go powder my knees,” said Shelley Struthers later on at her Top o’ the Hill Hooktip apartment containing that ultra mysterious and perhaps ultra powerful triple number of the sim: 135, 135, 135, highest on Heterocera’s Diagonal as a whole, with an old name of Head. There was no Heart now, so the additional description of Head wasn’t needed no longer. There was only one. Art’s place along with the proximate heart is gone. Abandoned land. “You just sit there on the ottoman,” she requested, knowing it would eventually work its magic if he stayed still long enough. 135, 136, 135. Very close. Close enough, as indicated.
Shelley stared into the bedroom mirror and it mysteriously cracked. Didn’t seem like a good omen. Maybe she should have a rethink about her vanity, she rationalized. Go tell Tommy to move from the ottoman to the couch. A calmer, cooler date to begin, yes. And go out to eat as well.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0215, Heterocera, VHC City^