Category Archives: 0307

news 03

He was remembering more. “Pansy. That was your name! Pansy Mouse.”

“Correct.” He points to the planchette on the crate in front of him with the board, another demon device. “We got it from this.”

“And that’s where…”

“Correct.”

He changed. This was the past. Pansy = Pan-Z. Jeffrie Phillips instinctively grasps his glowing red tie, a long held habit. He knew *they* were still in there. So many — well, five.

The now squeaky voice continued. “Audrey was in it all along. She *caused* it.”

(to be continued?)

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weight and purity 02

“Never mind the tip jar thing, it’s just like the diamond over in Heartsdale. It’s a brain all right, just like it was a diamond over there. A 10, or at least a 9.5. Plucked from the sliced head of David A.B. himself, Mr. *Normal* again now.”

She stood back, proud of her offering. Karat (or Carat), the owner of the sim, decided to tell a related story.

“There was another man named Normal. Had the role of a lifetime. Colonel something or ‘nother — doesn’t matter. He thought it was about himself but it was actually about the role. He left the role, left the show. It was similar to having his brain plucked out of his head in that it was the dumbest thing he could ever do. The role made the man and the man made the role. Never forget that lesson. I’m sure David A.B. *Normal* will never forget. But — thank you for the gift again. We will confer, Braynard and I, about the reward.” Karat (or Carat) didn’t tell traitor Yoko Ona that she and Brayard were actually one, with their 2 sims overlapping. She decided not to remove the mask.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0307, Braynard's Place^^

Afterwards…

… Pink had a frank (Frankie?) talk about the red book with her parents, so secret that I wasn’t involved (sorry). We must move on from Storybrook again…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0307, Corsica^^, Storybrook

three of ’em 02

We keep following breadcrumbs. The newest one? The Beer Tent in Dalnim, a part of the Greater Chilbo area. Recognize the tent?

Yes, very tasty.

To backtrack…

Further…

But then: sidetracked.

“Do you have a tummy ache, little boy?”

“A mild one, yes sir.”

“We’re *all* sick,” the child opposite him at the Mad Hatmaker table spoke up. “It’s the magic mushrooms in our tea and coffee. We — didn’t know.”

And then *another* one just down the hill, but not owned by the same avatar. The house with the sick children lies between.

—–

The Man About Time finally returned to the empty Instabar parcel that inspired his trip. This was an easy one. He downs another satisfying swig of Flasche Oettinger Export and contemplates what to put within.

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no wee 02

“He said that this land was my land but it was also *his* land, Fran. Wonder what that means?”

Young, naive Fran couldn’t stop tittering at the, to her, funny sight. “He’s got (*snicker*), no face — no *skin*.”

“Hellooo!” it spoke again cartoonishly. “I’m a [delete phrase].”

“Whoa, whoa,” Jer Left Horn called to him from the chair while holding out his hands in protest. “No need for that kind of language ’round here, Norris. You *did* say that was your name. Didn’t you — Norris?”

“Mo Flo Joe No.”

Fran kept tittering. “I think he means — *no* (giggle).”

“Wellll… *what*, then?”

A very faint “Jerry” then popped out of his hot pink mouth. Then: “Harry,” almost as faint. Then, rapidly in succession, just a little louder even, “Harry, Jerry.” Then louder, more assertive: “Jerry. Harry.” Then loudest of all by far. “JERRRRY. HARRRRRY!”

“Okay,” calms Jer Left Horn, hands out again. JERRRRY and especially HARRRRRY were still echoing around the hills surrounding them. “You’re Jerry. You’re Harry.”

“He’s Jerry,” states Fran mundanely, patting his red hair and staring at his face. “He’s Harrry.” She tweaks his cheeks here. Jer Left Horn thinks he winces a little with this, the first facial expression beyond “blank” he’s seen.

“Hey,” he requests to Fran. “I think you hurt him there a bit. That (he comes over to look better) skin might be sensitive.” He points. “Yeah, see there? You’ve left red marks.”

Fran covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh. Oh dear. They’re *bleeding* or something. I’m *so* sorry.” She runs inside to get some tissues from her purse, water dripping from her face.

His face changes…

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Eggplant 02

A peninsula would be a good place to swim, she then thought in a somewhat different form.

—–

“The blue hair will buy me more time to think about the next step, Ingo…

… er, *Sandy*.”

“I’m not Sandy,” spoke the figure across from her who looked like a cartoon version of actor Sandy Beech or character Herbert Dune (a cartoon figure himself, hence doubly so). Doppleganger, she realized. But what about herself? Fresh from a swim?

—–

She leaned back, studying what had just happened. Swimming hair… swim cap. Yes, this could work…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0307, Lower Austra, Nautilus^^

ghosted

Hucka Doobie was chatting to pass the time. “You know you’re colored about the same as a chicken, Baker Bloch. Maybe you should think of becoming a chicken man yourself. By that I mean opening up a restaurant, perhaps a chain. Maybe you should begin to think up a name. Blochbuster Chicken? You could even steal some signs from that old, defunct VHS tape renting outfit, the one that went belly up.”

But Baker Bloch was still thinking about his father instead of chicken, although the 2 will always be connected now in his mind. Banished back to Regaltown. Could this possibly be the end of the Horns of Hatton tale already?

Hucka Doobie studied his worried face. “Aah, still thinking about dear old pops. He’ll be fine. Kevin A. too — Kevin Orchardsity, all three of hisselves. Come on; cheer up. The Queen’s story can continue on without the King and his tomb, without Space Ghost’s trailer.”

“But the parcel was called ‘*Ghost* land.’ Fate.” Baker Bloch sighed. “I just feel — something will always been missing here.”

“And then Cpt. Americus accidentally jumping in the watermelon tub with the *real* Queen (!) Awkard indeed! But I don’t think the Queen was present at the time. By that I mean she was AWOL.”

“AFK,” corrected Baker Bloch.

“Um, like the chicken, then.”

Baker Bloch expressed confusion, then realized: “Oh, you’re thinking about KFC. No, it’s like the former president. AFK. They’re talking about renaming the whole of Bay City after him.”

“JFK, then. The (former) president, I mean,” responded Hucka Doobie. “John Fitzgerald Kennedy.”

“Yes, you’re right — that’s it.”

“Well there you go. Something else to think about. Another Ghost.”

“Everybody in the country laughed about it,” [Carolyn *Kennedy* Crusey] said. “There was no city out there.”

Who voted Mor the mayor? No one, she said.

“That was just purely for something to put in the paper,” she said.

How did it change from Bay City to JFK City?

It was shortly after the assassination, she recalled. Across the country, people were renaming all kinds of things after the late president. Plus there was another guy out there at the time named Kennedy, (no relation to her or JFK) who came up with the idea, she said.

I wondered out loud if they’d hatched the plan while drinking at the bar. It wouldn’t be the first piece of Alaska legislation born that way. Maybe that was how Mor was “elected.” Maybe they dreamed up the dome city, too.

“We never did find out what happened,” she said

Mor eventually moved to Anchorage and started spelling his name with a second “o” and an “e,” she said. She couldn’t remember why.

The last newspaper clipping to mention the city was a 1973 story about Alaska ghost towns. It called Bay City “an alleged village” with a population of 0 in the 1970 census, that might have been renamed to “The City of Kennedy” after the late president.

“But,” the article said, “there’s nobody left to verify it.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0307, Alaska, Horns of Hatton^, Kowloon, Maebaleia/Satori^^

tour (11, 12, 13) 01

“Not much of a south wall on this one, Bettie. We can give it to them.”

“I’ll put it down as a ‘maybe’,” replied Buster’s more unyielding mate.

“What’s next?” she then adds. “Where’s the 12th?”

“Um. That may take some more scouting.”

“Better get to it. Night is short.”

“Not as short as some nights, Bettie. Let’s go!” They take to the air again. Bettie turns tiny and Buster changes into his bat form to speed things along.

—–

“Didn’t take long. I *think* this is it. If memory serves. Pretty weak overall, eh?”

“Dunno,” says Bettie to Buster-bat. “‘Maybe’, again. Is this what they use to call Golden Sink?”

“That or the other one,” he returns. “Now let’s look at Callingwood. I know where that is — know the sim name.” They fly off once more, to the northeast instead of west (I’ll provide a map soon).

—–

“Hold on, what’s this? (Osiliers) Looks like a sinkhole to me.”

“Nah, Bettie. No texture change. This wouldn’t convince them. Plus it’s not supported by surface infrastructure. Although, again, this *could* have been what they called Golden Sink, the 12th. Unsure.”

“I’ll log it in, whatever.” She checks her inworld map and points northeast. “Callingwood’s just ahead.”


Watching flight with volume ON.

—–

“Hmm, Bettie. Just ‘hmmm’.”

“There’s the texture change,” encouraged Bettie. “Sort of.” She looked around at the large, flat “basin”. But they weren’t allowed to call it that. Both were thinking the word, though. Not sink: basin.

“It’s fascinating nonetheless,” a resigned Buster spoke. “Some quite interesting mountain hill country to the north. I suppose, also, this is what Baker Bloch called the Satori Flats. In looking at it again, I agree with that name.”

“Center of the continent, Another candidate. Middle of nowhere.”

“Use to be (small) pyramids as well. Baker Bloch lived amongst them for a little while.”

“Must be the influence…”

“Yeah,” Buster agreed, not wanting Bettie to say the name. Blue Feather Douglas once more.

“And the 13th? — if this isn’t the 13th?” Both, again, were thinking this wasn’t the 13th. Basin or Flats were better names indeed. But that’s what’s so frustrating and fascinating both about the Maebaliea continent and its *depressions* — that’s a generally accepted neutral word for both parties. Now. In the past: a different deal-i-o. It’s all quite complicated, and thus yet another need for the study called Sinkology.


Flying again.

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catchup

“It all seems to be focusing on Heterocera, Baker Bloch. Me in the swamp lands — I would *prefer * to live here in Collagesity, but it is what it is. Then Wheeler’s own explorations.”

“She’s found a gym.”

“Gem of a gym,” replies Roger Pine Ridge, puffing on a Chesterfield tonight. The rainbow brings confusion but white light heals. White stick light. “That might keep her busy for a while.”

“Then Grassy… what’s the report on him?”

“Good and decent fellow, obviously. We’ll (re)visit Iris soon.”

“The Moth Temple Village. Good. Which you live on the very outskirts of anyway.”

“He’s still looking for the reds and yellows. Probably to shoot or kill them.”

“Wheeler can help in that way,” Baker then says. “And his cousin?”

“He hasn’t spoken of Opp since my move. He goes on and on about the TILE river or creek or whatever it is. Jonesborough Compound: he says that’s where it all started. Cave of the Alphabet. The eternal search for AlmaNoz.”

“Good topic,” replies Baker. “Karoz: Did he find his ‘N’ yet?”

But Roger Pine Ridge didn’t know neither. Better bring in another.

—–

“Karoz… we’re just reviewing what’s going on in the novel so far. How’s Dennis? Is that where you still are? Lemme check.”

—–

“Why don’t you put up a meaningful picture on your media feed here. For the blog.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Dennis.” Pause. “Where I’m not.”

“Well maybe we should go there to meet instead.”

Karoz Blogger looked around. “Where’s Wheeler tonight? This isn’t an official Table meeting without Wheeler.”

“She found a gym,” Baker Bloch explained again to a second core avatar tonight.

“Guess Tropp or Opp is with her, then.”

“Guess so.”

“Well… good.” Karoz looks down at his hands, then back up. “It failed of course. The assimilation. Baker Blinker has gone back to Chilbo. I suppose I’ll have to follow.”

“Well… for one shining moment…”

“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted the cyan being, half moss as we know now. The other half remains hidden in mist still. Baker then had an idea.

“How’s Misty doing?”

“Who?”

—–

“He didn’t know who Misty was, Hucka Doobie. I tried.”

“You think that’s his *mother*?”

—–

“Let’s review what we know, Hucka Doobie. We know that everything seems to be focusing on Heterocera, which is now equated with a big hand.”

“An *upside-down* hand,” Hucka Doobie clarified. “The Hand of Opp.”

“Right. There’s now a Heart Line to go along with the Head Line, which I didn’t know was a Head Line until I found the Heart.”

“Art’s on the Heart.”

“Right. Former neighbor. Like Veyot. On the edge. Just digging the Collagesity vibe.”

“It does have a good vibe,” articulated Hucka Doobie. “But now it only has the woods. Art will be the last neighbor you will have in Our Second Lyfe. Unless you count Ruby Heartbright.”

“I’m checking now, Hucka Doobie.” Pause of about 30 seconds while Baker Bloch remotely scans the borders of Collagesity. “Yes, I see she is the only landowner whose property borders Collagesity. But: no relation to the Rubi Woods to the west?”

“There has to be,” Hucka Doobie says without hesitation. “You know this person after all.”

Met her once. She’s owned land around the woods before. Just like me. I can’t remember specifics.”

Hucka Doobie thinks that Baker Bloch should write down information like this but doesn’t say it aloud. “And fair Ruby herself? Haven’t seen her around since I rode back into town on a horse with no name.”

“We’re talking about my character, also named Ruby,” Baker clarifies more for the reader. “She seems to have taken the lead female role from everyone else except for Wheeler. But of course now we know Ruby *is* Wheeler. Because of all the splits she’s effected.”

“Ruby Fantasie most recently. You should follow what’s she’s up to in Rosehaven. Shaking things up, I bet.”

“Three ‘Rubys’, then. The neighbor, the woods, the… can we call her queen? Is Wheeler still queen? Heck we better bring her in. Thanks for stopping by, Hucka.”

“Back to the Red Umbrella for me. I found a way into Stonethwaite.”

“You did?”

“But a topic for another night.”

“So long, then.”

—–

“Put up the Aotearoa picture on the interwebs, Baker Bloch. I can’t seem to work the darn thing again tonight.”

“I’ll make a quick post with the 2 pictures.” Pause of about 2 minutes while Baker sets up the post. He displays it…

“Top hit for an image search ‘N to Z’, Wheeler Wilson. Transparent images, that is.”

“Which you like to do now as I understand.”

“This is AlmaNoz related. Jeogeorock related. Whitehead Crossing. Spill what you know.”

“I’m not really the person (core avatar) for that. Spongeberg,” Wheeler declared. “Spongeberg’s the one. He lives there after all.”

“I forgot. In the teepee.” He removes his finger from his lip. “Well, we might have time to bring him in after this. Friday night after all. A little more time; a little less pressure to get up.”

“During the day, you have to figure out something else to do. I’m *enjoying* the day. But… this can’t keep up.” Wheeler looks at him directly. “Thank you, though, for allowing me time to find my gym. That was helpful. Tropp is thankful too. We are not evil.”

“I know that.”

“We are another aspect of Heterocera now, part of its continuing storylines. Three ‘Rubys’. Collagesity moves onward and upward within that triangle. Scarlet.”

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one way

“2:01, Mabel. Who do you think will come through today?”

“We can only hope,” replied Tessa’s likewise observing Martian friend, bracing for the “norm”.

“Bloody fairy,” uttered Tessa disgustedly, spotting the wings first. “Put her across the tracks with the rest. I don’t even want to speak with this one.”

“Me neither,” echoed Mabel, still not over the incessant babbling of the impossibly exuberant Bubbles.

She points for the confused newcomer.


Joining her brethren.

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