Category Archives: 02

December 20, 2017 · 6:34 pm

can’t wait

The Musician was carefully cleaning his new cyborg body parts in the glimmering cave pool when Wheeler sprinted into the room. “No time for that, punk, we’ve been found out!”

But he didn’t immediately jump into action. “What are you on about *now*?” he asked while continuing to wash his left arm. In truth, he was still pissed at Wheeler for not appreciating Jimmy’s solution to the stigmata problem. True, it was kind of trading one set of stigmata for another. But at least he wouldn’t keep waking up in a blood soaked bed.

Speaking of which: “Pull out our beds!” the now stationary Wheeler called from the bank. “The ones sent by Jacob. Hurry!”

The Musician kept cool and switched cybernetic arms to bathe.  “Jacob? I’m not sure… oh, right, the *collage*. The one with the two beds. Well… he said he’d give it to us but was still searching for the base image, the one with no beds. He warned us not to use the current one, just to study it. Is that the beds you’re talking about, Wheeler?”

“You know they are,” she huffed, folding her arms and impatiently stamping her left foot on the cave floor. “And its in *your* inventory. He gave it to you and not me for some reason.” She anxiously looked toward the room entrace from whence she came. “I think I hear footsteps. Jimmy.”

“Jimmy?” queried The Musician, now washing between his real fingers. “What’s he got to do with all this?”

“Again… *no time.* Pull out the picture. I *demand* it.”

“I’m not going to do that, Wheeler. Jacob said to wait.”

Wheeler huffed some more and looked again toward the cave passage leading to this room. “Oooh, *please* Musician. I’m *sorry* I didn’t like your new, metallic limbs and belly. I’m *sorry* I didn’t appreciate the teeth. New things take time,” She glanced again at the room entrance for emphasis. “Which we have *little of*.”

“Alright,” The Musician finally acquiesced, moving toward her through the shallow water. “Good thing all these new workings are titanium and not steel. We’d be here an additional 15 minutes with me drying!”

As soon as he reached the bank, Wheeler clasped his hand and started running again. While being dragged along to the end of their vacation, in effect, he looked through his inventory and found the collage.

“We’re here, Musician,” Wheeler said, catching her breath again at the doorway to the last room. The final cave room. “Now… *rezz the beds*.”

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December 20, 2017 · 4:55 pm

Revealing

Upon reaching the cave’s upper mouth — leaving The Musician behind in its bowels again while she scouts for additional, useful poses — Wheeler spies Willard and Harriet Miller dancing up a storm in a nearby gazebo.

Then something extraordinary happens. The couple instantly cease their gyrating, then Harriet appears to fall asleep on the spot. Like she’s “away”, as we say in Second Lyfe speak.

Another takes her place. Jimmy. The *bastard*, Wheeler thinks. He’s asleep too, for a moment, then springs awake.

“You can go now,” Wheeler can hear him say faintly from her position. He’s apparently speaking to Willard Miller, for just after this the husband of Harriet Miller vanishes — poofs out of existence.

“It’s time to come out of the closet, er cave,” he then calls in the direction of Wheeler. “It’s time for you guys to remember who you are. The upper 2/3rds of the infamous punk band Story Room, with me completing the trilogy.

Jimmy approaches the cave mouth, still quite red but now much taller. And also a woman.

Tammy Whatammy?

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December 20, 2017 · 9:06 am

Brilliant Twin

The Musician couldn’t help himself at breakfast. He had to show off his new cybernetic arms and torso to The Millers. Artist Harriet Miller was completely taken by the shirtless subject, and insisted he pose as a model for her newest work. Wheeler Wilson reluctantly tagged along to Harriet’s creative getaway tucked in the small woods, along with her husband Willard, an insurance salesman at Barnum and Bailey’s.

Wheeler was thinking: Willard looks *so* familiar.

On a window ledge of the cabin, Dirty, Frosty, and Bluebell wonder what they’re gandering at with the part machine Musician.

The Millers having returned to their primary lodgings, we catch up with Wheeler and The Musician partaking of after-breakfast treats at a nearby frozen pond. He was explaining more about the procedure.

“Same thing happened to Philip. No problems in 10 years. He just keeps his shirt on, like you’ve suggested to me about 10 times now… keeps the eyeglasses on so the vision will always remain slotted — no problem there again, really — and then keeps his mouth shut as much as possible. Because without the teeth, the deal is not sealed. The great 3-n-1.”

He forcefully smiles for Wheeler Wilson again. More metal. More jagged.

I’m going to kill Jimmy the next time I see him, she thinks.

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December 20, 2017 · 6:53 am

Shirtless in Comfrey

Grace Zebriskia gasped when seeing The Musician pass earlier this morning on his way over to Wheeler Wilson’s Japanese house.

“Good morning, Grace.”

“Good *morning*, Mr. Musician. How… how are you?”

“Fine Grace, fine. Never mind all this. I’m fine. Have a good day.”

“You too sir!”

—-

Deep in meditative thought, Jimmy’s bunkmate Rey Wisa did not turn in his seat to look, but only echoed a vacant hello to The Musician’s passing hello. He knew what had happened.

—–

He stops in front of Grace’s twin cousin Jowday and asks if Wheeler is up yet. “Yes sir,” she replied, markedly not as surprised with The Musician’s appearance as her virtual doppleganger. He briefly wonders why before moving on.

—–

“Musician! What have you done to yourself?!”

“I got rid of the stigmata, Wheeler. Jimmy fixed me up. Said he did the same thing for his astronomer friend Philip back in Australia.”

“Can you *undo* it?” she asked with mouth still dropped.

He paused, disappointed in her reaction. Then: “I think not.”

“Well throw a shirt on all that at least, for Christ’s sake. The Millers are waiting for us in the gazebo.”

—–

The Musician then rummaged through his inventory for a suitable breakfast shirt. Not too punk but not too tame. And, obviously, with long sleeves.

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December 17, 2017 · 10:05 am

landscape

“I can’t see *anything*, Pitch thinks. “I can’t hear, can’t speak. My life is over.”

“We’ll get you fixed up,” Mary encourages in his head while continuing to stare at the giant fruit in front of her. “Apple, orange, yellow fruit, lime. There’s nothing to see, hear, speak about. Yet. We’ll get you fixed up.”


Merlin Martin

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December 15, 2017 · 8:03 am

Greenup 12, 13

“There’s no other choice in the matter, Broken Heart,” Jacob called from his chair. “We’re going to have to go to Stonethwaite and that is that.”

“I know,” replied his bone cat friend, positioned in front of the next two collages of the series here. “I’m already packed up (compacted). We’ll have to figure out a way to erase the two beds, though.”

“I’m on it.”

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December 15, 2017 · 7:16 am

“One Pink”

Pitch had always gotten chills when walking past this particular spot on his Grassy Avenue. Tonight he understood why. Two cardboard figures, Derek Jones and Sikul Himakt Mykall Skall, awaited him at the location. Pitch temporarily lost his sight.

“Ahh, my eyes! I can’t see.”

And soon he couldn’t hear or speak either.

—–

Jacob I. was now up on the second floor of House Greenup in Rubi. He had reached Greenup 11 in his examination. Himself.

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December 14, 2017 · 7:48 am

breaker breaker

Marion Harding thinks his world might be breaking down. He had been on Gaeta V going on 2 years now. Sent here by trickery and mistake; eventually caught in a tangled web of power and intrigue woven in Capitol City.

He didn’t like the continent’s largest and most central burg very much, although it had elements he admired. Of course there was the money, the flow being strongest here. But heiress Becky Latrobe wouldn’t even let him into her posh house now that he’d shot Dirk in the head and made him dead. And Madam Wanda Stinoble was going straight and returning to the old continents. For Gaeta V was news at the time of its birth eastward of Corsica. News and dangerous. And those darker elements naturally aggregated and congealed at the depression originally called Pittsboro. Pittsboro evolved to Pittington evolved to Darksity evolved to Capitol City. Over time the sinister aspects were smoothed away like the reformed, flat terrain. Gaeta V would have no natural sinkhole that kind history would remember. The Great Black Swamp which sucked up aboriginal settlers such as Ned Bartlett and Kindsey McTweed into an untimely doom was tiled and drained, and a shopping mall now graces its ironed over land, selling the newest threads and peddling fresh leather attache cases soon to be filled to the breach with lindens and gold and jewelry no doubt. Like his own, bought just a week and a half back. Because Marion liked to ensure that each case of treasure had its own home. He could himself probably build a small house with them even now, only 2 years in. Or, really, only 1 3/4 years in because it took him a little bit to find, then ingratiate himself into the sodded fabric of the city.

—–

“Baker, have I ever told you the story of my nephew Marion and how I mistakenly sent him over to walk the length of the Gaeta V continent 2 years back instead of having him watch the GTA V video Spongeberg actually requested at the time?”

“No. Do tell Cardboard!”

“I haven’t heard from him since. Until yesterday. A short note indeed: ‘I think my world might be breaking down.'”

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October 22, 2017 · 6:21 am

litmus test

Baker decides the 420 on the side of the Bodega Market has to go to make prim room for the rest of the collages in its upstairs gallery. 6 prims saved right there. Silly, stoned hippies, he thinks, but then realizes there’s exactly $2400 lindens in his account currently. 420 anagram. He reverses his former decision and allows the big green sign to stay for now. Is this black curtain across from it indeed a “Wall of Jasper”?

He meets up with an analysis hungry Hucka Doobie in Olde Lapara Towne instead and its duplicate market.

—–

Hmm. 5 days left on the rent here. Another decision looming. 420 I suppose.

Okay, maybe one more week of rent beyond that and everything will be finished over here — transference complete. And also there’s Rocky to think about. As hard as Baker Bloch has been recruiting the anthropomorphic raccoon to come join him in Collagesity these past 2 weeks, it may still not be a done deal. Bookworm now rents his projected apartment at the SoSo Mall, although that’s planned as a stop gap situation until Rocky’s arrival.

Hucka Doobie shows up. “Finish the gallery over in Collagesity. Tell Levi you’re pulling out here. I’ll deal with Rocky. See you over there in, say, about 20 minutes?”

“That will be fine Hucka Doobie.” I rarely disagree with the highly psychic bee person.

—–

20 minutes later…

“Room for growth now, eh Baker?”

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October 21, 2017 · 3:10 pm

spurred on

Jacob I. wakes up in an unfamiliar place. All-time great NBA power forward and recently retired Timmy Duncan looms dead ahead, a ball in front, a ball behind.

Jacob I. does not follow professional sports. He doesn’t know who this gentle giant is. He seems to speak. “Jacob, Jacob, down here.” Jacob I. ponders why a man so large has such a small, feminine voice. Tina recognizes this after he doesn’t look down. “Not Timmy, stoopid. *Me*.” Still no proper response from Jacob I. “Down *here*. It’s Tina.”

Jacob I. finally locates the source of the voice.

“Tina,” he calls down softly, knowing her ears are sensitive to what we would consider normal volume speaking. “It’s very good to see you old friend. But where are we?”

“Behind the wall. Jasper,” her tinny voice shouted up. “It’s the same as marijuana. I’m so small I fell through the cracks. Then I was able to bring you here as well.”

“Am I dreaming?” Jacob I. logically asks.

“Yes. We need to get you through the wall, and quickly. Before you wake up. We’ll have to make a run for it. Get up. Quickly. Follow me.” Tina turns and runs. “Get up quickly and follow me!” she calls back, halfway to the blackness already.

Jacob watches her as if just behind, then wakes up.

—–

“I was left behind,” explains Jacob I. the next morning to an analyzing Broken Heart.

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