“Are you going to open that can of worms *now*? You can’t fish properly without them, you know.”
In the boat before Baker Bloch, Yoko Ona seethed. “Who are you to tell *me* how to run my business? They agreed upon McCartney-Len –, I mean, Lennon-McCartney, *years* and years ago. I am honoring my late husband’s wishes. Marty just wants to rock the boat. He’s a trouble maker. In fact –.”
“He’s not even Paul,” Baker Bloch guesses. “A switch occurred. Arkansas,” he followed, thinking of how five progresses into six. Not quite all the numbers but getting there. Didn’t matter, though. *Here* he was Marty. All the signs were that he was Mozart instead of the other way around. And
Lennon Lemon was, well, the other one, the *Jealous Guy*. He told this to Yoko Ona, standing her right side up so he could see directly into her eyes, into her soul, tell her what went wrong — and perhaps right as well but wrong especially. At this moment, in this instant.
Something happened to make Baker Bloch rethink his strategy. Yoko Ona returned to her boat, putting away the worms for good. There would be no fishing today in the Heartsdale Bay. Mid-Hazel had her tied around her little finger. It was the more powerful witch Baker had to deal with from now on. He had met his match. Time to send in the female (again).
(to be continued)
Well, I’ve explored the Xuxorr Plateau as David A.B. instructed me to. Now what?
Hold on. What’s this? Perhaps a village? A place to bed down for the night, perchance to shack up with a local lass, hehe? I sure miss Audrey. But she screwed me over with Marty and I can’t let that pass. She has deceived me, *killed* me even. No way I’m going back!
“I knew you’d come back you Jeffrie Phillips.”
“Just read me some more from that magic book,” he demanded, pissed off that his hips had overridden his head once more.
Audrey nimbly leaned way over and picked it up off the rug where she had thrown it earlier in their sudden passion for reconciliation. They knew it couldn’t be damaged. She deftly thumbed to page 56 where they had left off…
“The Man had many centres he could manifest out of his inventory, but, legend says, when he found wo-Man he stopped the process and threw up his arms in glee. Thus Eve from Eden is born and Adam, The Man incarnate, called it D-vine.”
Larch (later: The Man himself) halted his creation story spun atop his spinning cube to look down at Superduper Guy and Batty Man’s “backfire-mobile” (his word for it) pull up next door.
“Pow POP!” it went when stopping, and Larch imagined small cartoon clouds with these words emitted from a smoking muffler. Nightshift worker Mrs. Dumbledwarf to the south became even more awake when the two super heroes slammed their car doors, then spotted Larch on his rooftop workshop and threw up their arms in greeting, calling “What up, *Man*!?” in unison before heading into their mansion, not waiting for a response. Because it never came.
Larch hated those two.
It was logical to bring Tronesisia next into the current story for more clarification. Tronesisia, after all, was originally created as a pleasure bot for earlier Collagesity, usually seen hanging around The Mission LINK. Later she evolved beyond her initial programming and eventually became married to soulmate Bendy — after she learned she actually had a soul herself. Bendy, however, will not be part of this particular story. We cannot locate his whereabouts and Tronesisia is quite protective of him. But Tronesisia states she is very available for questioning. She has nothing to hide about her past, her present, even her future as she understands it. Which is a lot.
“Tronesisia,” I began. “Thank you for chatting with us a bit.” I found her in Dewey, exactly where we left off her story in, let’s see, well it was the last photo-novel. 16. We decided to talk about that first after reconvening in my NWES coffee shop for, again, logical reasons.
Cut to 3 exchanges later….
“I was asked to be the judge and jury of an art theft, Baker Bloch,” she rattled on. “I originally decided to kill the determined criminal before reversing my decision and bringing him back to life. This would be Herbert Gold, husband of April Mae Flowers. They are both alive, last I checked, and living in Snowlands.” Here Tronesisia tilts her head, her blue eyes gazing over my shoulder into the distance.
She stared back. “I stand corrected. Herbert Gold is again dead, having succumbed in his sleep earlier in photo-novel 17.”
“The current one,” I decided to add.
“Yes.” She tilts her head again; her blue eyes go blank once more. “No, new information has revised the old and found he is still alive. Just as — I — was — receiving…” The eyes go dead now. Tronesisia has shut herself off, perhaps experiencing some kind of overload. We would have to continue our chat another night, pheh.
She hears him approach, then stop. “Ahh, my heavier, more favorite son has arrived. I knew you’d –” *pop*.
She turns to see what that noise was, then gasps. “You *didn’t*. You *didn’t* just *do that!*”
“I’m not in play any longer mom. I’m going to fess up to my weakness and beg my former wife for forgiveness. You’ll have no power over me any longer.” Then, throwing the horn to the ground, he left — out the front door this time. No secret passages between horns. No possible reinvoking the Horns of Hatton. It was over for the Heart Queen, plain and simple. She had played her last card.
“It was a meeting of the Pipersville brain trust. Cindy A., Jim A., and Todd A. A different setting, certainly, than the Hole in the Wall the general public knew them from. The Tipsy Trio some call them, like Your Mama. She knows them all too well, she thought — back in the days they were best mates, her being a kind of unofficial 4th member of the club. Jim’s Club — ahh yes. That was the name. Because Jim was the ringleader; on the catbird seat. Now that Keith had fled the scene. Bower-Brown. Undercover. Famous, even infamous, but also not known atall. The sink did that to people, affected their minds. This was proven by the theorems they were working on at the time. The bank had 1 room where they could test subjects, but there were others. You could call it a time machine, but that wouldn’t be taking it far enough. Kind of a space machine as well. No, let’s call it an *Option* machine, both through space and time.”
Preston Weston was cutting the z’s by then. Craighead Phillips, the more moral Option, decided to call it quits for the night. Long journey back to Old Wagon Road or thereabouts to pick up where the other one left off.
“The two hearts still burn as one from this position, Sidechick.”
“Yet something has changed.
Speaking of which… you haven’t.”
“I’m working on something,” Sidechick Corea defended himself. “Would you like to see? Preliminary, you must understand. I might combine it with something else.”
“Sure, my friend, my understudy.”
“Snow,” Sidechick explained. “Even appropriate for the season.”
“Well,” said Magus Ellen, looking him over. “Then how about this for *me*.”
“Perfect,” exudes Sidechick. “Rosehaven was called Winterfell before 2017. They changed the name because of the growing popularity of the ‘Game of Thrones’ TV series and its own Winterfell. This was *not* a ‘Game of Thrones’ roleplay region, decreed the Princess ruler who effected the change. So we are stragglers, misunderstanders. We are merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Back to the pub, then!” emits Magus Ellen. “But not tonight.”
“So you see Campbell O’Pine. Here at the edge of Misacs, for instance, we also have the beginning of the end of Our Second Lyfe. That gain in elevation over there in, let’s see (Sidechick checks his inworld map), Bushchat, is more than just that. It gives us perspective upon the basically flat 8×8 of the themed house regions preceding it, The Perfection. With the essentially endless repetition of these houses beyond, the Linden peoples are drilling in the message that Our Second Life is not the be all end all of virtual reality. More is around the bend. And that’s where the Corrigan statues come into play, especially the Queen’s. Are you ready?”
“Let me go find her and then I’ll teleport you over.”
It takes a little bit for Sidechick Corea to come across the Corrigan Queen. He first stumbles upon the multicolored iris eyes first noted by core avatar Baker Bloch over 8 years ago.
He then spots the Queen behind him. “I’ll just teleport Campbell over now so that he can walk with me toward her.”
“It’s fascinating, Campbell. The body of the Queen lies in Pixy but her arm and the blueish orb she holds extends over into Corrigan. But we call her the Corrigan Queen because of all the other stuff in that sim, like the eyes you just saw.”
“And then the flat Queen. Is that the proper way to put it?”
“Good enough. But I want you to think about that blue orb almost direct above your head. In fact, let’s just fly up there to take a closer look.”
“Remarkable, Campbell O’Pine. Ellen is right. I think this orb *has* to be you in some form.”
The Corrigan “Flat Queen”.
In yet another dream, Casey One Hole sits atop his mountain in Horizons-Spica which is actually Horizons-Vega, waiting for someone.
The controlling 32 cube is clearly seen from here.
Along with the Killing Shack. The Crux of the matter.
He will be patient.
“We’re gonna have to leave *sometime*, Tonya Two Egg,” whispered robot child Arale inside the ice fishing shed.
“Have patience my friend.”