Category Archives: 0308

times 3

Sun, Moon & Earth

The distance between the Earth and the Sun is 108 times the diameter of the Sun.

The distance between the Earth and Moon is 108 times the diameter of the Moon.

The diameter of the Sun is 108 times the diameter of the Earth.

“Valgate began at 108/108/108 and was worked downward. The rock the Valgate (V-gate for short) was built upon extends to the entrance of the temple/den below, the *gate* — sideways this time, in reference to the first — between peaceful inner, where vampires (another V) set away their differences and came together for communion, and then outer, the exterior, the pretend.”

“Devils. Not vampires,” she responded, knowing more than me for certain. I ask her about the (off-limits) witch house, yet another demon monster of the night.

“Owl,” she responded.

Something wasn’t quite right here. It was all built upon the Diagonal for sure, but… “I guess it’s just unfinished, Wheeler,” I then offered to my counterpart sitting across from me in the Table Room of the Blue Feather in Collagesity, Nautilus, the same continent that this mysterious, perhaps ultra-mysterious Valgate lay upon as well. I decided to extend its important and perhaps ultra-important Diagonal down into the continent itself.

Also important: the inner temple, or “den”, was aligned to the untraceable Anti-Diagonal of the sim as opposed to the (traceable) Diagonal, but maybe I just make that word up.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0308, Nautilus^^, Rim Isles

theatre in Canada

“‘102’ appears here, on this utility box, far away from the Regent Theatre.”

“Better not call it that in the blog,” requests [delete name].

“Regal Theatre, then. Like in my own home town.”

“*This* will be your hometown soon, he he.”

“Yes. But this is about a 1/2 mile down York Street (and then some) from the theatre. The Regal, true, was 102 years old on the year after the graffiti was created in that namesake alley of mine beside it, the one where Bart Smipson — I mean, where he traveled between dimensions.”

[Delete name] let me unwind my theories, remaining silent. She stared at me with those dead white eyes. I figured I’d be in a bit of trouble if I didn’t get to the heart of the situation tonight. In front of me was…

“Continue,” she requested, not wanting to rest too much at any one pause. Good idea.

“Anyway,” — I’d lost my train of thought, as they say. Better back up to the cemetery. “102 is dead?” I theorized.

Pause. “102 is death.”


Icebox Diamondbox field seen in same Photo Sphere where red mysteriously switched with orange

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0308, Canada, Canada/Picturetown

character studies, Black Ice locations

Mary Pippins’ red umbrella and the Red Umbrella gallery

Bake’s Bakery (newly relocated!) with Barry X. Vampire and pretty Poetry Dancer

Zapppa’s apartment? (dreaming of that chick down there)

that chick down there — actually, those chicks, including the Her Majesty bigfoot/yeti in the doorway just down

Toddles roaming the mean streets of Black Ice at night again after drugging up her Grammy

Stumpy, the new bartender at Moe’s, smoking bong hit after bong hit while listening to noise rock with Gotham the psychedelic reggae monk. He’s got a head! He *is* a head!

Charlene Brown the punk working late night on her cryptozoology dissertation, unaware that off again on again boyfriend Barry X. Vampire Jeffrie Phillips is with Poetry tonight, the bastard

Melvin the devil boy offers a passing skateboarder some suspicious looking soup while half-sister Eldwina ponders her 1st assignment as an official member of the City Squad. Knew it! thinks full brother Judd from the stairs.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0308, Black Ice, NWES Island^

our thrilling story continues

“Oh you’re just a big chicken is all you are. Right Mr. Z?”

“Right Mrs. M.”

“Hey over there. Hey: look at me.”

Both stare at Toothpick almost surrounded by pecking hens.

“This *h’ain’t* an episode of ‘Happy Days'”, he spews over. “There h’ain’t no happy bluebird atop Blue Berry Hill finding his trill. Just ask Little Robert Plant Variant over in Nowtown. Or is it Zen City. *Anyway*…”

“Oh I don’t know what you go on about 1/2 the time, Toothpick. If only *Z* here would have been my real child instead of one from another mother, he he. How is your maw anyways, Mr. Z.?”

“She’s dead thank you.”

“That’s good. Good to be dead in this day and age. Toothpick over there wants to off himself again. If he wasn’t already dead. Right Toothpick?” his mother shouts over. How much more of this can he take. And his *best friend* from high school or thereabouts siding against him now. Must be all that worldly corruption seeping into his bones. He didn’t use to be this way when he was little, provincial Little Z. I remember him sleeping a lot — maybe that was why he wasn’t controversial back then.

“Wake up over there Toothpick and talk to us.” His maw was *so* tired of him dreaming away his life. She just wanted him to get married to Elberta and move the heck out of her trailer. Maybe Z could move in then. But she can’t go there quite yet. First get the young’n out then deal with a potential new lover.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0308, Meat City, NWES Island^

The original Jeffrie Phillips.

“Entrails please.”

“On the house today, boy. *The* Boy. Congrats!” the old service robot creaked and cranked. The look became him.

“Aww. Thanks Slicey!”

“He’s at the (Bumble) Bee, David.” tracking Duncan Avocado spoke over a nearby phone. Indistinguishable talking from the other end, then: “Yeah, his maw’s out of town again. This was an easy one.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0308, The Waste^^

return

While she was traveling about, Yoko Ona decided to revisit her old home of Witch’s Rock, if only for the memories. The original group of witches had long been killed off by rival covens (like Mid-Hazel’s), but the objects remain. Let’s take a look.

Ruby Fantasie waited on a nearby hill, mulling over possibilities for her next transformation.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0308, Braynard's Place^^

switch

“I’ve got to figure out where I *am* in this story, Inspector-Chef Petty. Am I in Storybrook? Or — here?” The answer was obvious. He was here. He draws back out of the media feed in his adopted house in Greater Urqhart.

The butler came to him from behind with an offer of tea, which would have been his 6th drink of the day to add to 2 iced expresso beverages, 2 hot coffees, and 1 other tea, a blend of caffeinated and decaffeinated Earl Grey, mix in some Orange and Spice for pizzazz. Just like the one being offered.

“No thank you, Alberta, not right now.” Then Barry spoke again to the butler over his shoulder. “Say, you’re from Corsica originally, aren’t you Alberta?”

“Yes sir. The western part, or, more correctly, the southwestern part. I originate from a place called Butler as well. I am a butler and my place of origin is Butler but it is all coincidence.” He spoke methodically, something like a robot but not quite. There was still warmth in his voice. And the overtone trill of an insect.

Wannabe famous novelist Barry X. Vampire knew there were no coincidences, at least not in His Second Lyfe, by experience. He began to query more. It was thus here that he learned of his alternate existence on the border between Golen Hill and Golen Bay, with the same butler, with the same media feed, with Inspector-Chef Petty still by his side reading “Floydadada” or the “Necronomicon” or whatever the current book rage was, red one be damned. He will *not* pick up the red one and read, no sir-rie. But then he did — just found the book in his hands all of a sudden. Inspector-Chef Petty begins to red. A red door appears behind him — her, a portal…

“It is known for its great belts,” continued the butler, as if nothing had happened, no movement or teleportation occurred. “Black Diamond style. The word Belt is incorporated into the word Butler, after all. Think about it sir. Think long and hard about it. I will leave the great belt with you to decide.

Decide *what*? Barry X. Vampire ruminated as the butler left the object on the table before retreating back downstairs somewhere. “*Somewhere*, he then realizes, seeing the portal for what it is. Amazon — Basin. *Comet.*

The door opens.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0308, Corsica^^, Southwest^, Storybrook^, Urqhart^

the ones

“The Fries with Cheese branch of the Main Cheese Church and the Church of the Cult of Oo’d over there have existed side by side in Collagesity for well over a year now. Clown sacrifices (Oodites) next door to a religion (Cheesies) headed by a clown. But they get along fairly well — it’s a small town and everyone knows everyone. No need for protracted bickering, with the proverbial hatchet buried quite long ago underneath a ceremonial rock straddling their shared property line.” Baker turns and then points. “I think you can see it right down there.”

Wheeler leans over and peers too. “Yes. I see it.”

“Knives are the weapon of choice now, but only within the church.”

“Okay, good.”

Baker returns his attention to the story. “Drawing back to look at the bigger picture, the hatchet remains more exposed, a lingering effect of the VHC City-Pond District War. VHC City is where the Cult of Oo’d started, an underground movement at first that has secretly returned to that location in the highest ranks, wegee boards and planchettes in hand. Summerhill Nova, owner of most of the underground in that town, is titular head of the Oodties now as well, although they disguise themselves as Christians (ELMERS) for broader appeal. And as we’ve learned, the Pond District is home of the Main Church of Cheese currently fronted by the Good Rev. Amos T. Sandman.”

“Who I have a date with tonight, lucky me.” The gown she chose for the occasion suited her well, Baker thought. She was trying to use her position of power to gain information. He continues…

“Summerhill has remained pure and white as glue to promote the above ground version of her religion. Amos T. Sandman’s appearance is like a bouquet of blossoming color.  Yet dig down just a little and it is clear these two leaders have much in common beneath opposing surfaces. Each is a *hatchet* themselves.”

“Explain,” requested Wheeler while holding up a pocket mirror and applying more lipstick.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0018, 0308, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

“End of Real”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0308, collages 2d, End of Time^^, Puerto Rico

h is for

“Soup anyone?” Melvin asks innocently to both.

“Not now, Melvin, thank you.”

The small demon dutifully withdrew toward the stairs, biding his time. Chloe directed her attention back to the visitor who had just teleported in through her offer.

“Okay, Sandy. What’s going on? *Are* you still Sandy? You look all weird.”

“Well,” Sandy Wanna Be tried to counter. “How about *you*? Where’s, um, your *hair*?”

“I have hair. Blue like the sky. The sea and the sky both.” But here she reaches up to feel her stringy, wet curls and only grasps air.  “Whe – where *is* it?? Aaarrgggh.” She flings the swim cap into the sea from which she just came at this point. I mean, the stream from which she just came. One of ’em, perhaps both of ’em.  She pats and feels and pats and slaps. Still no hair to find up there. Certainly she would be pulling it now if she had some.

“May I suggest,” Sandy WB then said, watching over at the tantrum, “that someone *stole* it,” and with this himself disappears. Teleported out to safer lands. He didn’t like scenes.

“What the…?”

She tries to google “instant hair loss” on her smart phone but stops at the lock screen displaying her name.  It was here she noticed something else missing about her: the “h” in Chloe. Cloe instead of Chloe, it said.  She looked around in disbelief, shaking her bare head, but in just a moment forgot all about both losses.

Melvin approached again with upheld bowl. “Soup, miss?”

Perspective shortened, she “accidentally” dipped her hand into the morbid concoction. The hand disappears, followed by the rest.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0308, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^