Category Archives: 0311

the beginning (The Larch)

“Hmph. Mona Lisa again. Wonder what that black mirror means?”

“Hmm. The Man.”

“*Definitely* The Man.”

Then it was different, thanks to The Man (upstairs).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0311, Corsica^^


“Sure you don’t want next game, Grandpa?”

“No, Tessa, thank you.” Because he was looking for someone.


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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0311, Rosehaven^^


Bill (Wheeler) always dreaded going to see The Boss. It was a scary walk through the Red Curtain Hallway, for one. And at the end: The Venus Door. What could Philip want from me today?


Both look at the pile of money stacked up on the marble table. “As you can see, life’s been good lately, Bill. But you’ve been neglecting me.”

“Now tell me all about this chess game you’ve been playing.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0311, Iris^


“You were *superb* Mr. Tom Casey. I smell: *emmy-y-y*!”

“Thank you Billy Jean Kidd. Oops. You’re Heidi Hunt Ives now.”

“I am.” She shifted her small weight in the chair. “And how is Karoz down in Chilbotown? Chilbo! as the locals cheerily shout.”

“He’s fine. He’s eager for a return as well.”

“Another eager beaver, cool. But… we must give you a full name. How about Casey One Hole? Reference to both your Indian complexion and a signature kill, perhaps. And how’s this (for a catchphrase): I don’t come from Uranus, I come *for* Uranus.”

“Too gay,” Casey quickly opined. Seeing Heidi scowl, he clarifies: “What I mean is that I’m not a gay character, or at least that shouldn’t figure into the equation.”

“Good enough. Ditch the catchphrase. Keep the name, however. Let viewers ponder over it.”

“So tell me about these prison schematics,” Tom Casey inquired. “What’s my modus operandi and such?”

“Here,” Heidi returned. “We can just pull them up on the screen.” She looked around the large, long room.

“Oh drat, we don’t have a media feed here.”

“That’s all right. Just tell me about them for now.”

So Billy Jean Kidd who is Heidi Hunt Ives explained how the 5×5 layout of metallic looking maps shown in the last Collagesity novel is actually of Montgomery County, Arkansas with its Rubi and Silver villages and the rest — Waters, etc. But it’s somehow also the prison schematics over in Gaston. “Maybe Gaston is actually South Yankton?” she then asks, half to herself and half to Tom. “That would go along with the tropical clime,” she quickly followed. “North Yankton: cold. South: warm… hot. Brazil.”

“I don’t know,” Tom Casey the actor offered. “Oklahoma has to figure in here.” He begins to create his own back story. “I’m an Indian in the past too, perhaps. Hana Lei — check out that Lafferty fellow’s novel, eh?”

“I will!”

“Anyway, we’re in Beaver City, Oklahoma and not Beaver City, Nebraska. The only other one. That means we’re in the past and not the present. Dust Bowl.”

“Beaver as the 7th and last county of Oklahoma before it became a brand new state. I’m trying not to confuse it with Ohio again.” Casey doesn’t get her inside joke. She continues after clearing her throat. “Anyway, I think you’re on to something there (as well). Let’s put all the ingredients together and make a big, whopping celebration cake. Emmy-y-y!” she trills again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0311, Capitol City^, Gaeta V^^

back to

“You know you’ll have to return, Jeffrie Phillips.”

“I know. Blackstars.”

“Garson on the impossible stairs. Leading you nowhere like you were outside.”

“I *was*.”

“Police take turns.”

“Art and crime together,” states a third.

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Rocky had a dream.

The story of the blue Ickles remained out of reach despite his rather giant ambitions for it.

And the green Ickles tale was riddled with holes

No, it’s not okay.

Mayhem in Olde Lapara.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0311, Heterocera^^, Lapara^

pulling a sis-bro

There was a second death in the Underground. A dreaming Wheeler had foreseen the event. It involved herself.


It took her ages to figure out the correct clown costume to wear. It had to be extreme enough to be believable — she had definitely been clowned. But not too over the top. Not at this time.

The shark-man lumbered up for their prearranged meeting. “Claribel: greetings. That a new outfit? I thought you didn’t like dresses.”

Must ward off suspicions at the start, Wheeler thinks. “Oh just something I threw on.”

“Threw up on, haha.” Orange was known for his bad jokes. “And your face. You look redder. You sick or something?”

“Ah, who knows with me,” and then she pretend retched but only ended up spitting on the ground beside her.

“Good one, Clare. There’s my little clown-face coming through.”

Wheeler’s plan seemed to be working. Chuckles Greentop had provided the keys. Just dumb down all interactions to a crude minimum and let the feigned clowning disease do the rest. Not-so-bright Orange Nova was becoming comfortable; any doubts about identity abating. Perhaps this wouldn’t be the day she perished.


She didn’t want to sit this close to him but Orange insisted. He sniffed her a couple of times during the conversation but that was the only signs of lingering skepticism Wheeler detected. They were now in the northwest corner of Bemberg, technically Summerhill’s realm, Orange said, but he liked the bench poses in this small, remote park of the city and would “take his chances.” The shark-man was helping Wheeler put the pieces together with almost every uttered sentence. Why the Novas were here in the first place, these *Super*novas as the locals under their subjugation once called them and still do at times. Orange was the 4th and youngest sibling, with last definitely representing the least in this case.

Wheeler just kept leading him through a maze of clumsily collected information. About an hour in, Wheeler figured she had enough to chew on and opted for safety. She excused herself, saying she needed to check the air in her shoes before an evening hike.

She walked south in the direction of Hooktip to complete the ruse, while Orange trod back north to Saturnia. His sim, he thinks while reentering the grounds of Muscle Madness. Or will be one day; Claribel be damned. The Realm of Orange.

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