Category Archives: 0305

another

Summerhill Nova’s other job besides running the Bemberg sim in its entirety was preaching to the congregation who congregated at Church of the Elmers in Melder in its entirety each Sundae. Unlike with the Main Church of Cheese, usually a packed crowd for this one, and no exception this day. They began by honoring a fellow parishioner who had been killed in the recent, new troubles down in, “Bena or Bennington or whatever they call the miserable village these days,” white Summerhill lectured from her white pulpit in her big white church to a host of white people dressed in black. She knew harping on the evils of their degenerative sister sim to the south was a certain crowd pleaser. Then she started talking about Ben Wolf.

“I know many of you’n’s frowned when we accepted Ben into our congregation. You said he smelled weird, especially around the full moon. You said he howled when he went to the bathroom. You complained — silently mainly — when we found out his wife the Irish Lass (Summerhill couldn’t remember her name right off either) was also a beast underneath it all, a fox in her case. Yet he heard the calling of the Lord (Summerhill stops here, as if hearing my voice as well), and came to us for guidance, for shelter from the harsh world he saw around him, trying to tear his very limbs apart, pull his very head out of his body and parade it around for all to see and mock. Yes, this Ben, this *Wolf*, was just as much a *man* as any of you lot here.” She pointed around the congregation for emphasis, singling out various men. “And what else has he done for the church you might ask? Well, we set him to tasks — menial tasks but after all he was grateful just to be here. I think each and every one of you will agree that the 17 bathrooms spread out in our various churches across the compound look spotless now; he will be hard to replace for sure in that area.” Agreements and nods across the congregation here. “And what of tree trimmings, and the squirrel bombings, and so many more tasks we set for him that he accomplished with great joy, great glee, great triumph. No, this *man*… will be sorely missed around these here parts.”

“And now — a word from the widow, an exile from Bena or Bennington…” she stops here and covers the mike with her hand, calling over to Phyllis Phox sitting in one of the nearby lawn chairs positioned below the main congregation. “What’s the name, dear?”

“Phyllis,” came Phyllis’ answer, not understanding what Summerhill Nova meant.

“… Phyllis,” Summerhill then continued, thinking that was the correct name of Bena/Bennington now. Phyllis approached the podium to scattered applause.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0305, Corsica^^

surprise

“A what?”

“A rock star,” husband Monsieur Gold repeated to his wife April Mae. “I could tell it was me because I was driving the narrow boat-plane again.”

“Steve, you can take away these dishes now. We’re done.”

“Yes, mum.”

“Go on with your dream you had, dearest.”

“Well… I was also a cannibal. Ate human flesh. Involved a haunted hotel with a secret story room.”

“Storage room,” April Mae corrected.

“Yeah.”

“That’s interesting. Cannibal, eh? Like Claude. Down in Schism.”

“I suppose.” Why is Steve the Gardener serving us our food today? Monsieur Gold asked himself. *This* must be the dream. He decided to test it.

“What day is this?”

“Wednesday, dear. You know that.”

But it was Monday. And Steve the Gardener didn’t have a wooden hand yesterday.

“How was your trip to the cemetery? I forgot to ask you.” *Why* did I forget to ask her? he thought again. Was the cemetery even *real*?

“Fine. You’ll be glad to know the ex is still dead and in his grave. Won’t be resurrected anytime soon.”

“That’s good. Vampires are the worst.”

“I know. Try being married to one for 736 years.”

“Claude again.”

“Yeah.”

But Claude was a cannibal dog and not a cannibal human, so logically he could never be a vampire. Monsieur Gold grabbed a knife from cleaning Steve’s wooden hand and cut his wrist, sawed at it even until his hand was severed from it and dropped to the floor in several, sickening beats. Yet there was no pain. Monsieur Gold then grasped Steve’s wooden hand, popped it off in one swift action, and then attached it to his own wrist, wriggling the fingers satisfactorily. April Mae acted surprised but not shocked. She looked at the now handless Steve. “He knows about us,” is what she came up with.

But Monsieur Gold never woke up, which was much more surprising. He lived with his new hand for the rest of his life. And he never saw Steve again after the gardener/manservant gathered up the other hand under the table and left the mansion in a huff.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0305, Purden/Snowlands^

parallels

“Just block out the chessboard,” Catvas I purred. “Focus on the temple. Think of the moths, where they were, where they are now. *Be* the moth. Fly free to the moon and back. You are a moth.”

On the floating raft 3 stories below, Cactus concurrently ponders the same identity while companions Tiniest Tell Tale and Akira think about fish and birds respectively.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0305, Heterocera^^, Iris^

present and past

He paused in reading his little red book to call to her. “Time to go home, kid.” For that’s what he already was nicknaming Heidi Hunt Ives, appropriately; she couldn’t help but snicker a little inside every time he used it. “5:00. *Lord* Marion will have laid out what he considers dinner back at the manor in about 15, swee…” Philip Strevor bit his tongue. He almost called her sweetie! She certainly is some kind of bewitching child, he considers, staring in her direction through jungle gym bars welded together with red, yellow, and blue pentagons. Marion had that part right.

“I’m coming,” she complied, finishing up her last dangle of the day.

Philip then turned again to watch the only other kid in the small playground. Unsupervised, but he seemed a little bigger than Heidi and a boy as well — probably all right to fend for himself, he deduced. It reminded him of his days growing up in South Yankton. Snow 9 months out of the year. Playing in the cold with Tommy Fox, Archie Hound, and the rest of the gang. He was use to cold, yes. Craved it, in fact. But he had to leave when he was 6 years old, his family cast out of the village after he attempted an armed robbery of its lone bank, pheh. Yeah, the prison guard families there were a bad influence, but he got away from crime. For a while. Turned to science; turned to the stars. B.A. in Physics at Cambridge. M.A. in Applied Astronomy from Oxford Shoe. That’s where he met Jimmy and became buds. Jimmy said there was another position at the observatory in Australia that he had just earned a job at himself. “Southern skies,” Jimmy lured. “Whole new realms to explore. And you can still see your precious Spica from that hemisphere *almost* as well,” he tacked on. Ah yes, *Spica*, Philip thought bitterly. He paid for that small loss of brightness indeed.


Philip Strevor decked up at Cambridge in better days.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0305, Capitol City^, Gaeta V^^

upstairs

Now Mr. Babyface really likes Simple Wunderlich’s snapshot from Ichelus upstairs, depicting its famous volcano. He makes a note to visit soon, perhaps even before he returns to Hana Lei. The picture corresponds with the sim map here as well.

And on the other wall, the totally water Redazillion.

He’s good here; no rules broken that he can tell of.

“I’m Gregg Oden. I live downstairs.”

A startled Mr. Babyface turns around to face his neighbor.

“I like Baileys in a shoe,” he continues. “Do you like Baileys?” Through his panic, Mr. Babyface was thinking this dude looks a lot like Rick James.

—–

Meanwhile, Baker Bloch discovered Terry in a bad place at Audrey’s Bar after he left Gregg Oden’s desire for love unrequited. The Bakers would have to find a new bartender, but probably all for the best, since Rocky Raccoo seemingly won’t be coming to Collagesity after all — staying in Olde Lapara Towne. Baker Bloch uses the bar’s phone to call up Greg Ogden at his father’s place in Farmington.

“Good news, sir. Gregg with the extra ‘g’ won’t be needing the apartment after all.” The man at the other end of the line yelped so loud in joy that Baker had to back the receiver off his ear.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0305, Heterocera^^, Rubi^

Joining

Baker Bloch waited for Little Tonshi Ashokan (i.e., Bettie) to manifest in Collagesity, but it never happened. He wanted to reassure her, along with Nancy and perhaps even Danny — maybe Rocky especially — that they had a place in Collagesity if they wished. Wheeler Wilson and Buster Damm obviously could come back. Same with Peter SoSo for that matter. Tronesisia. They all could have a home here.

But for now, Baker has decided he must join them in Olde Lapara Towne instead of visa versa. Create a more rational perspective on what’s going on there. He was especially disappointed that Wheeler hadn’t returned, admittedly. She’s part of the core family, he thinks to himself tonight. She belongs here.

But how about Duncan and The Musician and maybe others still roaming around the VHC City environs?

Who is really a native of what town, or is it all just transient and interchangeable? Karoz Blogger and Baker Blinker, for example, seem to remain in Chilbo, yet another berg directly linked to Collagesity. An older relationship, like VHC City I suppose. Olde Lapara Towne is a new coupling. And OLT remains the most important for at least the current work (“Collagesity 2017 Middle”, or “Novel V”).

Baker waits a little more. Then enters.

I forgot to even mention Mary. Truth is, I think Baker Bloch has changed over the course of 2017, and may be as much vampire Pitch Darkly as his old self.

Osborne Well still reads “Floydodo” on the second floor of Darkly Manor, the one with the view into the forest. Fellow established Collagesity resident Woody Woodmanson joins him for a glass of milk. “He’ll come around soon enough,” the wooden man reassures his other vampire friend. “He’ll know who he really is.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0305, Heterocera^^, Lapara^, Rubi^

busting in

Using his universal pass-through, the littler vampire entered the house. “Buster Damm as I live and breathe, ha ha.” Pitch was use to his free comings and goings.

“Morning wine, Pitch?” Intervention Buster queried, looking at the bottle and full glass in front of him.

“Oh, this is just left over from last night,” Pitch explained. “You know how I am about cleaning up.”

“Who was the dame?” Jealous Buster asked with an edge, taking a seat opposite his bestest friend in the world. “Not that laconic bee woman again? I thought you two were Spitsville.”

“It’s Splitsville,” Pitch corrected. “But, no, it was Wheeler. You know, the lively one who bought the Key Store from Chuckles outside. Not a beaner. However she doesn’t own the shop any more. A wooden man bought it from her. Toys in VHC City, Buster. What’s next? Elves?”

“Hmm. What did you two guys talk about?” Had Jealous Buster skipped over a line? Didn’t matter. Pitch was a super duper pal and would play fair instead of foul if so.

Pitch hurled his morning spitball. “Sister.” He paused.

“Sister?” asked Stifled Buster back.

“Sister. Everything you see around you.” He waved his arm, indicating the house and its windows to the outer world. “There’s a place we should visit on the edge. Let’s call it that. The Edge. Won’t take long at all. A baseball field away at best.”

Nosey Buster had started scanning Pitch’s latest jottings, attempting to understand better. He reads aloud now. “The future fisher lives on the edge. Chuckles knows identity but won’t spill. Got that he owns a slavebot who is bent up inside. Coins. Squid and whale.” Shaking his head, Thursty Buster reaches over and grasps Pitch’s glass of viscous wine, downing it in one take. “Let’s hit the trail,” he said, wiping his tiny mouth with his little black cape. No stain remained.

—–

“No one home, Buster,” Pitch says after calling. Curious Buster wouldn’t be denied. He deployed the universal pass-through again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0305, Heterocera^^, VHC City^