Here they come in the streetcar, he thinks. Finally arrived in the right place. Must make my presence known soon. But first…
… a little havoc while I wait, he he. Bark bark, bark!
Category Archives: 02
00420202
He continues to puff as he stares at the Big E on the now shared table, a ritual of sorts. He doesn’t know quite what to make of it still except that it’s perfect in its own way, and a worthy additional the TILE family of absolute glyphs. He stares at the green green sim of Xilted, thinking back to his own experiences there, 0202 as well and exactly 3 novels back. More perfection.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0202, Big Woods, Constantynople, Jeogeot, Kidd Tower, Nautilus, Xilted
there’s levels to it
Brngg brngg! Brngg Brngg!
Damn, she thought. And I was just starting to enjoy myself.
“Hallo?”
—–
She walks past the filing cabinets, A-M on the right, N-Z to the left. Or was A-L and M-Z? Anyway, the Big Boss said the file wasn’t in them. Check the dumpster, he said. Or was it a she?
—–
Alright I’m here, she thought. F-ck, gonna have to pay a visit to the chiropractor again after this. They knew they were dealing with an almost 67 year old woman, didn’t they?
“They” did. When she stood up out of the dumpster after finding no file there: retirement. Reassigned to inactivity on a different continent, her services needed no more. Another would have to be assigned.
new home
—–
“Hallo? Yes, Mr. (Mrs.?) Johnston. I’ll retrieve that file posthaste.” Good back, he (she?) noticed when hiring. Good legs. She’ll do swell.
(to be continued?)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0201, Back Rooms, Heterocera, Omega^^, Southern, The Cross^
00410217
He checked progress in the book while Marsha rested her now covered arm on top of his hat, a sign of the irreality of the situation. “Let’s see, I’ve come into the pawn shop, I’ve found Marsha ‘Pink’ Krakow asleep on the job, I’ve spotted and then continued to gawk at her short pink hair, and then I’m reading this book to check on progress.” He puts down the book; continues to gawk at her hair while noticing the change of clothes. Only one thing left to do per his next line. “Go on… a date with me Victorian lady?” And so their second one and actually maybe their first official one was set up for that night at mirroring Shenanigan’s just across the street. There they would run into June Bug Johnston aka Plain Jane Johnston once more as their stories continue to grow and evolve.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0217, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori
00410216
Her new hair made her doze a lot but she figured it was the only way to get rid of the gargoyle dreams. Wanda in a hot tub there, Wanda in a ballerina dress over there, Wanda in a… well you get the picture(s). Biff Carter walked into the shop, interrupting her latest non-gargoyly dream. No more Wanda for a while. She even got rid of the green phone so she couldn’t call him first thing in the morning. She’d seen enough in the mirror. Greene’s Motel, she knew. There was no Greene’s Motel, not any more at least. Just a green door left of that color which led into the role playing room behind the main desk. The one she just used last night for that purpose, non-gargoyly indeed. She had to go back in time and make things right again. Dr. Mouse was now truly Alice’s father, thanks to the lucky Irish whiskey imbibed just before. She talked him into breaking the code! Swamp and sewer lesson learned.
“Pink — oh sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt–” He was embarrassed about catching her sleeping on the job but then realized it *was* her shop. No one else to answer to.
Pink stirred, tried to focus back into this reality. “Biff,” she recognized. “*Andrew* ‘Biff’ Carter.”
“No. *Wendell* ‘Biff’ Carter.” Is Pink drugged instead? He imagined her mind being a prison.
It’s also here he noticed the hair as her head continued to rise from the table and fully separated out from the rest of her outstanding pinkness. She now stared directly into his eyes. “Biff — yes, of course. *Wendell* ‘Biff’ Carter.” She looked around the almost empty shop, remembered her job, why she came to Cass City in the first place. Certainly not *this*. No she had a much bigger mission in mind than to carve out a Southside pawning niche. She came here because of the man standing in front of her… gawking.
“*Boy*,” he said. “That’s *different*. I *like*, but it’s… um…”
Marsha “Pink” Krakow reflexively reached up and felt her new doo. “I’m just trying it out, mind you. It’s called Victoria.” She gauged his reaction closely.
“Like in the Age? 50 years?”
“Er, kind of I suppose. Victoria,” she said again. “With a modern twist, a *Pink* twist.”
“Okay, um..” He couldn’t stop staring at it. Something about that hair.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0216, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori
one last sensory experience
“There. That was me, Alice. A wolf caught in the bright headlights.” CHANGE
Lazy girl Marsha “Pink” Krakow had seen and heard and felt and tasted and touched enough in Paper-Soap. Back to Cass City to wrap this section up, she said in her mind. Just after she finishes nomming down this delicious sewer popcorn.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0215, Paper Soap, Soap
00410214
They continued their imaginary conversation at the purple shack over at Bill’s swamp. The chest was still there with the photos, errand notes, love letters, etc. stashed safely within. She had to take Mouse’s word for it because she still couldn’t get inside the thing, couldn’t find the key anywhere on the premises. She kept thinking about the huge Arabic number back on the pinball machine in Cass City as if it was pinned to his chest. Deception, she knew. Lies.
“Swamp Shack Purple here use to be Swamp Shack Brown,” she said while she was eating provided soup and he was drinking the house wine. “Explain.”
“You’ll have to ask Robert.”
“O-kay. Then where’s the key? To the chest I mean, obviously.”
“Did you check the sink? Sometimes things get caught in the drain. Doris Drain.”
Why did he say that? she asked herself, but got up to check anyway. “Wait here,” she requested with more seriousness in her tone. “Don’t *move*.”
“Why there’s not even a drain to this sink!” she exclaimed through the wall at him. “What gives?”
“She must have had it removed!” he answered from the living room. Then was gone.
“She had it *what*?” No answer. She rounded the corner. The imaginary visit, so vivid in the moment, was over. She sat back down, finished her soup. No Mouse no wine no cane opposite her, no nothing. But the numbers remained.
Combination! she realized. Eureka appeared as if from the blue but actually it was red. Eureka could shift her form into any shape. And she chose Robert, the lead mystery man.
“You!”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0214, Paper Soap, Soap
00410213
“Why didn’t you tell me about the chest, father?” she imagined asking him later at the same motel, mother with a new client by now. Father Pritchard, a different kind of father, one with a holy vest chained to a cross he never asked for; was just in the family business, his father a father, *his* father a father, so on. This is a way to exact his flesh, pound-for-pound.
He made googly eyes with this, which gave her the answer. He was thinking about the past even now.
“Ahh, so… mmm…”
“Boyys,” he issued. “I worshiped the boyys. They just made me… blow up (!).”
“Combustible. Like oxygen.”
“I suppose.” He was clear for one minute, now muddied again. The whites of his eyes had narrowed into slits like snakes.
“So you *couldn’t* be my father.”
“No,” he admitted. “No, I couldn’t be.”
Must have been *Robert*, she realized. She said this to her father who was now not her father, at least biologically. Psychically perhaps “yes” still. She hadn’t given up on him just because of the Big Reveal — opening up the chest. He was with her mother just not in a strict biblical sense. Not like Father Pritchard now. More on-the-spot irony.
“Swamp Fox, right.” We better end there.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0213, Paper Soap, Soap
a new month, a new mystery spot
Brand spanking new pond (about 50 x 25 feet) found very near center of downtown Boulder NC. Too close? No. It is safe. You can go there and feel safe. No one comes here. You will be by yourself. You do not have to carry a weapon into this area. Relax. Sit by the pond. Feel at peace. Enjoy.
Nearby mini-quarry of several levels. Really a spectacular find, and for now I’ll call the whole area Neufoundland because I didn’t know of its existence even though I’ve walked past it perhaps a 100 times now, probably more. City path to the west, condos to the north and east. Houses to the south. But here is peace, here is love and honor and beauty. And rocks. Lots of rocks. And a pond (see above). And a retaining wall of some length. A small waterfall in the northeast part (yes, there are 2 identifiable areas to this one place, linked by that wall in essence). More to be found I’m certain.
There are a number of entrances into the place, but one that is logically the best choice. I call it Best Choice Entrance Point, BCEP for short. Made to order it appears.
Is this another entrance into Neufoundland from the city path to the east? No, it is not. But close!
Moving north on the path a bit more toward the town center, we come to this. Is this by chance an entrance? *Yes*. Although you may be filmed if so, or a sign just up the side path indicates such.
The whole thing is suspicious for several reason. How could I not have known about this place even though I’ve been exploring Boulder for the past 30 years? Waiting, is the answer I’m getting. Waiting for the right time to reveal itself.
Oh, a FAIRY VILLAGE on the northern boundary, although the buildings have been turned over and bunched together since my last visit a couple of months back, perhaps for protection from harsh winter gales.
But never fear, the townspeople stand tall and proud and strong on a neighboring rock, ready to pick up the pieces next spring. In the meantime: FREEZE I suppose, ha. Toy avatar humor there.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0212, Boulder, Toy Avatars
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)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0211, Iowa, Paper Soap, Soap
Sunklands 