Category Archives: 0303

Middle

He camped at Mexico Flats that night, fronting One Pink acting as a watch bird. “Sqwalk!” she erupted at half past 2. But it was only the Half Moon rising over a local stone hill. “Sqwalk!” she repeated at 5:45. Yes: The Sun this time, touching the tippy top of same hill. One Pink imagined herself burning on the surface, revealing her secret innards. Scorching Sun and Freezing Moon must be balanced, sqwalk for sqwalk. Otherwise: death. In time, Jeffrey Phillips would begin to understand the weird workings of the psychic, alchemical flamingo but not tonight. Instead he grumbled how just as he was about to fall asleep there went that bird again with the sqwalking, so not understanding atall the significance of the utterances. Sun and Moon; within and without us all; the great duality; mother and father; death and life; black and white of course; female/male all around. Silver and gold. Alchemy.

On to the Castle, bleary-eyed or not.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0303, Nautilus^^, Rim Isles, Sansara^^

identifying the issue

“*Two* Beetles instead of 3 down the road now, Mr. Archer.”

Peet Archer considered requesting, “Peet please,” again, but decided against it. Toddles had somehow shrunk down to her “normal” diminutive size during the trip into the heart of this fine Canadian hamlet, warm on an early spring day. “Who have we lost this time?”

“Lennon, it appears. Must be the same, yes, as Lemon. The lemon tree went missing from Springfeld, Mr. Archer. Shelbyvale stole.” Toddles needed to rest her wee mouth again. She put her thoughts into Archer’s brain, as she did sometimes when this happened.

“So *what* is the equivalent to Shelbyvale for our Picturetown here?” he said. They both peered down the alley with Mary York at the increasingly diminutive skateboarder, almost out of sight now. Might as well say he’s gone. There: he’s gone.

Earlier:

“All blocked up, Mr. Archer. Someone has sealed off the passage to the interior, ‘X’ed it out in effect.”

“We didn’t come soon enough,” he said for her. “We better check the 102 alley for changes as well.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0303, Canada, Canada/Picturetown

00230303

She went into the yarn shop and clicked on Tigertail to teleport. Soon she was with Archer, Peet.

“Aries is not the only one involved,” he reinforced to the psychic, precious toddler, soon not to be a toddler as he urges her to change before returning to Canada or thereabouts. Picturetown he thinks it is called, Pictown for short. Close enough. Maybe he’s not as involved, okay, but he’s a busy man, er, spirit… man. I remember it all ended with Oz, big loop completed. I asked him through the child.

“Return?” He drew back, took me in better. Smiling, he returned to his former position. He looked at his hands. I realized I saw him more for who he really was than a cartoon-ish shooter of arrows. “Okay, okay, I admit I controlled *some* things. The Stripe joint over in Post I think it’s called. That was for the other Peet. And you of course.” He spoke rapidly. I knew he was super intelligent, just like the partner. It would be difficult to keep up. Much like with the records. “Soooo, what are your plans *now*? Are you just going to move to Canada?” He got more into character, changed the accent to represent something more ridiculous and surreal. “Leave your old mawmaw to rot in her virtual grave? No no no no,” he said while shaking his head. “No go, no good. We have to keep you and your granny together. So she’ll have to go too.”

“Canada?” I ventured in my wee voice, just as cute as my looks.

“Listen, we’re going to have to reorganize this whole trip. It’s 3000 miles from Tugas- tugask…”

“Tungaske,” I finished for him.”

“Tungaske, sure, yeah… anyway to get to this Pictown or Picturetown or whatever, you’ll have to have a car. And, um, *you* can’t drive.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

“Anyway, forget all that forget all that,” he waved off the line of thought. He looked over at the pool table behind us and its triangle of spheres. “Soooo, this Homer, er, *Smipson* is the one ball, the round yellow fellow.”

“No,” I corrected, misunderstanding what he meant. “It *use* to be Homer in the jar but now it’s Hucka Doobie the bee-person, or at least the head of the original bee body — more bee. She took his place; more spher-oid.” As a toddler that was a considerable amount to say at once and with some odd words so I had to rest my tiny mouth a moment before talking again. Luckily Peet Archer had a lot to utter in the meantime. Here it is:

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0303, Canada, Canada/Picturetown, Canada/Tungaska, Rose Heaven^^

1/2 and 1/2

“I refuse to die this time Jerome T. Newton. I’m going beyond the end of Newton — you — into Oblong.”

“It’s that girl that’s helping you,” Newton declared between clenched teeth. “From the *fu-ture*.”

“Maybe.”

Chef-detective Keat Petty Owens had already moved on from his stalking ghost to a different gallery. He was staring at the beginning of the second 1/2 of the 10×10. 51. “It’s All Here.”

He even gave his petrified hands back to Newton as a parting gift. Goodbye demo(n) alien. Forever. Maybe.

To Montana. And beyond…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0303, collages 2d, Heterocera^^, Rubi^

new 02

He kissed the cone topped clown head from the back. “I love you,” he cooed. “And I *understand* you.”

He turned and finally saw her. In the flesh! She was scratching her head, but not from something she didn’t understand this time. Lice. Must have got in during the middle of the night. No more sleeping in clown barns!

She hadn’t notice him yet because of all the scratching. Itching and scratching. He could run away — again. But where? Back to his maw? Nah, that wasn’t really an option, although he needed food every once in a while. Tripe: better than entrails at times. It described his life perfectly.

Bubbles, he thought. That’s what I’ll call her. The name just floated into his head like an enclosed air pocket. And once he had a name then talking could commence. “Little girl, little girl,” he began softly, out of earshot again. He knew just how to pitch it to remain unheard. Then: “I’m here, I’m here, I’m — *here*.” The last “here” got through, as he planned. Despite the name (DeBoy, derived from D-Boy or Dunce Boy or one who makes a lot of “D”s and just gets by) this diminutive fellow is quite nuanced and different from us more learned folks. And now he possibly has a friend.

Suisan turned again toward the voice but again saw nothing but a cone. The boy remained invisible to her.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0303, The Waste^^

demon

The Olive, some called this oval encasement surrounding Carrcassonnee’s lone eye for obvious reasons. A pickle of a concept, because a handful, an *important* handful mind you, considered the encasement to be more meaningful than the eye and said that it should itself become solid. Another handful, larger but less important, stated that the eye and the encasement are equal, and that a balance of solid and transparent is required. Then the 3rd group, largest of all but with lesser voice in power indeed, said to remove the corrupting encapsulation, discard it into The River to float out to The Sea for possible purification but way away from the deity itself. These are The Clears, wishing The Olive never existed.

And then there’s the problem that Carrcassonnee’s eye doesn’t quite fit into The Olive, and a piece of it tends to bulge out from certain angles. This allows The Eye to be manipulated independently from The Olive, which started all this division in the first place. “See?” cried the second, larger group to the first. “Carrcassonnee *wishes* for The Eye to be independent of The Olive.” “We can *shrink* The Eye, just a bit more, so that it will fit inside The Olive and be gone,” returned the first. “Oh, we are *not* allowed to do *that*,” shrieked the third from their weaker but more voluminous corner. “Grow The Eye beyond The Olive. Or, better, throw (The Olive) away! Into The River, into The Ocean.” And so it goes.

Carrcassonnee has some ideas of her own about the heated debate between the 3 groups. “Make me mobile,” she wants to cry out from her fixed position. “Allow *me* to go out and get a *better* eye, a *better* olive to encapsulate it. Then we’ll see what’s what and who’s not.”

She wants the ability to READ her A B C’s and 1 2 3’s correctly.

—–

The analysis is finished. The Nun and The Monk relay their information to The Man About Time, who then concocts an Action Plan. Carrcassonnee must be exercised! But he misunderstood what Brother Joseph and Sister Mary actually said.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0303, Corsica^^, Urqhart^

stranger

She finally turned away from the photos. “I know how you feel,” she spoke to acquaintance Marsha “Pink” Krakow, working on a friend. She called her Marsha instead of Pink for now. “This feeling of — someone watching you. Hoooverrring above you even.”

“Is that how it was with *you*?” Marsha spoke over, curious about the resonance with this strange girl who also frequented the Wired and Wireless upstairs bank of laptops. Usually searching for crime stories this girl was, though, not rock bands.

“Shhhhh. There he *is*” she whispered over as Tom Banks entered the store from below.

—–

He admired his work before looking over and spotting Frankie.

“Hi!” he exclaimed to his star photography pupil. “And helllooo,” he said creepily to Pink. He immediately recognized another star.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0303, Corsica^^, Storybrook^

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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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0018, 0303, Corsica^^, Heterocera^^, Pond District^

live oak 02

He thought he’d do some ice fishing while he was here, a favorite pastime from way back when he was a kid. He’s looking for his wayward brother Benny Right Horn, true, but nothing in the royal decree said he couldn’t turn the assignment into a kind of vacation as well, get a little feel for the local culture and habits. Plus he just loved that giant live oak over there on the peninsula. He’d been coming every day here since he arrived 3 days back. Finally he caved: ice fishing it is. If his mother (the Heart Queen) found out so be it. Benny was probably long gone from here anyway, his brother Jer Left Horn rationalized. Into the caves and out into another dimension.

Jer was not yet prepared to enter the End of Time cave system himself. He was still gathering intel from the locals. People disappeared. *Groups* disappeared. Children — old people. The cave didn’t discriminate due to age. Some pin responsibility on the cats also known to inhabit the caves; say they use a different set of tunnels to surprise and capture visitors. He needed to find one of those cats, attempt to communicate with them if possible. His great great grandmother was part cat on her father’s side. Maybe he could use that bit of shared heritage as leverage. Start up some kind of conversation. Ideally the contactee would be at least somewhat invested in genealogy, then. But he’d also heard of cats with human qualities, hmm. That could lead to — no, he promised his mother he’d set aside his promiscuous ways in this quest. Always the distraction for you, she called him out.

He couldn’t help himself, though. He had an eye on a girl who always sat at the same table beside the canal in the village. Today was the day to make a move, he thought while trying to spot any fish swimming below the ice.  Maybe this pond was devoid of them? He’d been here 2 hours. No bites yet. Time to move on to bigger fish. In the village….

“Goodbye live oak. See you tomorrow.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0303, End of Time^^

changes

“Is this life ever gonna get old to us, Philip? This Gastion — notice the name change?”

“Doubtful, Marion.

Doubtful.”

Early the next day, Marion and Philip realized that Gastion was just a (high) pot name and the real name of the sim had not changed. It remained Gaston. But, in fun, the two partnered criminals called it Gastion (or sometimes Gas Station or just Station) from here on out.

Then one day, without Philip, Marion visited the creepy alley behind the “Station” with the aid of Golden Joe.

“Uugh. Where *am* I?” he asked groggily while swatting away leaves from his face.

—–

“And *who* am I?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0303, Gaston^^