Category Archives: 0303

bitter

Surprising me, the Main Church of Cheese (or just Main Church) still exists in the Pond District of Heterocera. I decided to pay a visit, disguised as a parishioner.

Afterwards I tracked down the Good Rev. Amos T. Sandman (clown) to get more of the scoop. Info about the brief but intense Pond District-VHC City war back in the day would be super nifty. *Jackpot* there, for the Reverend was a treasure trove — had a personal archive out back on the conflict. Said his grandfather piloted a Main Cheese boat over to the shores near VHC City to help with the barricade.

The next week we met in nearby Rodentia to further discuss the matter. Rodentia is fast becoming a treasured relic itself, having been around in Our Second Lyfe for over 10 years. His church was visible through this coffee shop window with a larger draw distance, adding to the ambience.

“So tell me about the Oodites,” I began. “Why did you guys hate each other so intensely? I get the whole clowning thing with you and presumably your grandpa, heh.”

“The Oodites deserved all they got. They put a black hole in the middle of that town and dominated through it. Warped the minds of the commoners (humans) there. *Sang* from that middle. He opened his red tainted clown mouth here for a bit but no sound emerged that I could hear. “That was 10 years ago,” he then continued, and *that* at the end of another 10 — the 10th. Pitch Dark that black hole was.” He paused here for me to absorb.

“I mean,” I spoke through Man About Time, “how did the Oo’ds get there? The aliens you speak of.”

“Oh they were horrible to look at. Could drive a man mad easily with their tentacles for mouths and their sideways eyes. Henry (Russian Grey parishioner I met the week before) looks good in comparison, ha.”

“Heh.” And I wondered why I laughed like that again, like a goofy kid. Did I have a cold?

“Well — how did the underground (movement) start?”

And it was here that Rev. Amos T. Sandman said he had to split to prepare for a diatribe against bananas on Sundae, a rival yellow food. We’d have to get more of the story at a later date.

(to be continued?)

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here’s the deal

“These fries smell a little off, Patrick.”

“Whadda you expect for free food, Zoidboro,” spoke the human across him more wisely than usual. He turns in his seat and peers at the stage. “When’s the band start here?”

“Oh, they’ll kick us hobos out long before the music begins, Pat. These are top dollar seats here!”

“Oh.” He then looks to his left. “So the Doc and his lady friends are just the first to arrive, huh.”

“Of course. Frozen Meat Waffles. A very popular band in Eotia Village, perhaps the most popular. We bought that ‘Human Flesh Zone’ CD back when we first arrived. Remember? Now I wish I had that money for some food, clothes, anything.”

“We can sell it.”

Zoidboro waves off Patrick’s again wise suggestion. “Ahh, I actually listened to it a couple of times while you were out on your walks. Knew you wouldn’t be interested. But it’s used goods now.”

“Still…”

“Nah. 5 (dollars) at best for a half dozen times played CD.”

“That’s a fresh Big Mike.” He glances down at the stale hamburger in front of him. “And a sloshie and some proper fries. This is the place to do it.”

Zoidboro wonders along with us, the readers, how Patrick suddenly became so wise. Then he realized: pregnancy. Coming to term. He was basically thinking for two now. And the baby must be smarter than he. Interesting. *I’m* smarter than he. More proof? He must induce that dream of Nevermore again. Or was it Nevermind?

The first band member to arrive sasheys through the front door.

By golly it’s Colonel Flagstaff. In a new disguise. Well, the same disguise we last saw him using over on the Omega continent, but in a quite different setting. And peddling a quite different commodity this time.

He approaches the pair in the booth; speaks in his cool, grunge voice.

“Used CD? Sell? I’ll buy it from you for a dream.”

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Nascera Nirvana

“It was suppose to be a natural paradise, Sidechick Corea my friend. *Still* my friend.”

“Mucho apologies again for being late yesterday, Magus Ellen.”

“T’is alright. But the expansion beyond the original 64 changed all that. The woof and warp became predictable. Our Second Lyfe began to collapse in on itself at this point. That’s why I switched from white to black. Black opens this time. And so — here we are.”

“But nothing’s changed,” observes Sidechick Corea. “All remains the same. The duplicate continents, the repetitive patterns of houses going on and on from the central 8×8.”

“Things have changed,” counters Ellen. “The blue boy is here for one. He will keep appearing in unexpected places.”

“What of the golden orb?” Sidechick asks, staring into the center of the fairy pond now. “Is it gone forever?”

Ellen pauses, then: “Time will tell.”

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Home Orange

“It *is* this place, Broken Heart Jackie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Anyway, it’s time to get to work.”

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Greg and Gregg

“Interrupted your little party you were planning tonight, did I Baker Bloch? Thought you were going to start the Greg Ogden story without me, did you? You and your fancy town here. I have a town too. Would you like to see?”

Not staring at it, Greg Ogden turned toward Baker Bloch on the couch, who is also looking away. “Which one of us is *real*??” he demands.

“Don’t do that.”


Unseen artwork upstairs (“Hidden Vilage”).

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triad

The next day, Danny’s chest triangle lit up after breakfast and told him to visit a man named Great who was also Good and So-So and then back to Great again. He knew where to look.

“Piggies,” he grumbled while looking inside that cop car on the way. “What’s next in town? Marshmallow men? Confetti parachuters?”

Like any superhero, he was simply going to walk through that fence ahead separating the town’s two sims.

Made it! But in turning around Danny finds he can’t go back through the barrier from this direction. Power neutralized on this side of town? He tries to melt the top of a nearby building with his laser vision. It doesn’t work! Yes, he’s a mere mortal again. He doesn’t like it. Onward to the hotel.

He instead decides to walk up the stairs straight ahead to the town’s raised park where Rocky was performing on a much larger piano this day, grand in style. “Shut up,” he says softly from the top of the stairs. “Shut up!” he then shouts toward the animal pianist. “Shut up!!”

Third time Rocky finally heard him. He stopped playing the 2nd movement of John Cage’s “4’33″” and turned around. “Great,” he muttered. “The Jester has arrived.”

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Going all nova.

She had a right to know. She *created* all this. Who is this Baker Bloch upstart? Vampires, pheh. There are no vampires in VHC City. [Work] like this could give her town a bad name. Best not to confront him directly yet. She decides to instead track down The Musician. Not hard — he had fallen asleep on the couch of his Ear Bar, exhausted from playing pinball all evening. He was at the green wall. Sikul Himatk. Summerhill roused him from his dreams. “What’s all this about,” she immediately started. “Vampires? Black holes? How do you know Baker? Who’s this Wheeler you run around with? Answers, please.”

The Musician understood who this was after his head cleared, but could give no really satisfactory replies. They were just existing in VHC City as best they could, he explained — just getting by. He and Wheeler now lived in Allen Martin’s vacated apartment. Summerhill also knew about Allen Martin. “Well, what happened to him?” she asked, thinking back to the supposed murder or death (something) at another place she knew well. “Heart attack is all I know,” The Musician attempted to explain. “Wheeler was with him at the end. She said it was fate that he passed through the gate there. Something about seeing a monster blasting through a wall. Didn’t say much more about it. (She’s) clearly upset.”

“Is Wheeler still at the apartment?” Summerhill continued grilling. The Musician nodded. “Let’s go see her. Maybe she has the answers.”

—–

So tonight was when Summerhill Nova learned about Pitch Darkly. It was actually this: Pitch Darkly *pretending* to be Baker Bloch pretending to be Pitch Darkly, as Wheeler explained while they shared a pot of coffee. She had just gained the knowledge herself. The vampire was very real. He had existed in what later would become VHC City for a very long time. Hundreds of years. Maybe over a thousand. This from the mouth of Pitch Darkly himself, now living on the other side of the tracks. Chuckles Greentop partially backed up the story, what she remembered about it. Pitch Black was his property. “And he was also friends with Sikul Himatk,” Wheeler then said.

“I think I know that name,” The Musician piped up on the couch opposite them, becoming fully awake again.

“Well of course you do,” replied Wheeler.

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