Wolvie investigates an old Bigfoot location and finds it intact.
Along with the associated Roberts and Franklin Private Eye Investigators Ltd. in not one but two locations.
He’ll have to make a choice soon. ‘Nother one.
(to be continued)
Category Archives: 03
00460309
It was like the old days for Wolvie (=Bert), staring at bamboo from the perfect spot 108 108 108, triply beautiful. Not Shelley any more doing her moves on the bamboo yoga mat but Wheeler, mother having reabsorbed the child in section one of this here current photo-novel, just this morning named for her. He’d seen her again last week at the convenience store he manages over near Juho. She knew that he knew and he knew that she knew. Then: winked out. Gone. Like she was never there. And perhaps she wasn’t (*knew* I was going to add that, didn’t you).
—–
“Wolvie’s gone. VHS tape still in there. Let’s just look at it. I want to know why Blue Moon wants to buy all existing copies so bad. How, aherm, *bad* could it be?”
“Double anal?” guessed Emily who didn’t even know if that was a thing. And I suppose she’d know, since she runs the store. So let’s say she was jesting.
“Could be at least double, as in 3some,” speculated Charlene further. Charlene the Punk. Not seen in these here photo-novels since (as I’m checking… checking…) 31 really, minus a cameo appearance or two. Pre-retirement, then. But we also know that Charlene is actually Fern in the past. Or another timeline — something. The two can be lined up and made as one is what I’m saying. If that, once more, is actually a “thing”.
They both crowded into the tiny viewing room meant for one, setting aside the chair to make space. Plus… well, neither wanted to sit in that chair now.
“It’s just static,” Charlene complained.
“Keep looking,” urged Emily, knowing secondary and then primary letters would form out of the nothingness. Because this was a special tape, very much so. I to E to T to L and done. You get your money’s worth.
“Yes, here they come.”
(to be continued)
00460308
“Well. Here we are.” And then he went in.
I’m scared, Bimbo thinks, hesitant to do the same and remaining outside. Do I really want to know how this works? Will I look at Fink Humann in a different way after this, a different light? Maybe it’s best–”
“Are you coming or are you not?” Stanley poking his head back out of the store’s door.
Cooommming, she thought. That’s the problem. That’s not what her type does, she’s found out. Nor his.
—–
But for Blue Moon Kentucky, seen here searching in vain for anything else besides that one solo album a bit earlier in the day as record store owner Charlene the Punk looks on smugly: no problem as it turns out.
And that’s when the whole scene climaxed. At the video store. Special viewing room as the static on the TV turned into something else, something Bimbo had never seen. And never wanted to see again.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0308, Jeogeot, The Burg
00460307
“Hi Bob. I guess you *saw*.”
“Yup. Took her long enough to get here.”
“Tell me about it. How’re the pipe repairs going?”
“Slow too. Funds running out in town I guess you’ve heard. Mayor’s going to hold an emergency meeting next week.”
“Yeah I heard.” Of course she’s heard. She’s dating both the mayor’s daughter and mayor’s son at once. She gets gossip in both ears at night. But… she must make a decision soon. Which side of Mother’s ocean she likes to collect the shells from.
“Welp, better get back to it. While we have the money.”
“Right. Just going down to see Charlene. Be back in a moment. You try to do your work a little *quieter* out here, he he he.”
“Ho ho,” says Bob, starting to drill a 2″ bore hole in a sewer line. But she was serious. Please the f- be a little *quieter* out here, she begs internally. And… hurry the f- up with these repairs why don’t you. If funds are running out, shouldn’t you be doing double time out here? But maybe she’s not thinking straight because of the noise. Anyway…
“Byyye.”
—–
“Have you heard, Charlene?”
“About the town meeting? Sure sure. I’ll be there with bells on I suppose.”
“NO. *She* came.”
“She?”
“Yeah, you know. HER.”
“Umm… oh, you mean Blue Moon Kentucky the so called pop idol. Yeah she stopped in the shop here looking for the video store. But she couldn’t help checking out her section over there to see what I’d stocked before she left. Not much — just 1 album from her solo period. That’s the only stuff I can even stand from her. I think she was kind of wearing a bit of a scowl when she left, ha.”
“But, Charlene, the *plan*. She knows that I know and I know that she knows.”
“So you told her?”
“NOooo. It was just a look,” Emily tried to explain.
“A look,” Charlene said rather skeptically.
“Yeah. A look. She knows. I know.”
“Hmm.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0307, Jeogeot, The Burg
00460306
There she f-ing is in the flesh ha, thinks Emily New Moon at her counter beside the static filled TV. She likes to have it on with the sound turned at least low just to help drown out the city noise outside. Sometimes it’s bad out there, sometimes not so much. But she likes to keep it on anyway, just in case.
She rehearses her lines as Blue Moon mills around, trying to seem interested in the other tapes. But she only wants the one, she knew. 49 of 50 she has already. And she’s tracked down the 50th and last to this town, this store most likely, since it’s the only video rental one in this population place merely known as The Burg. Here: Downtown, its seedier side. Up there where it’s quieter most of the time: Uptown, where Emily *wished* she worked. But L.A. won the job at the ice cream vendor over her because she’d presented some papers at some national art conference or another, didn’t matter. *She’s* written things too. Just not published or presented stuff. Blue Moon milling about over there trying to seem distracted will know one day too, she thinks while continuing to observe and mentally rehearse. “‘Blue *Balls* Kentucky’, hmm — interesting — let me see,” and she’ll pretend to type the name into her database, pretend to look at results, pretend that the tape isn’t on the list. Blue Moon’s one and only porno, 50 copies extant. She has 49. But dammit if Emily *New* Moon is going to let her have 50. The blue fades to black right here in this town, this store. She’ll reach a dead end and it’ll nag at her the rest of her short lived days, Emily thinks with some satisfaction. Because she knows it’s worth a gold mine. And she, as it turned out, has cornered the market, ha ha ha. He he. Ho.
Here she comes. Steel yourself, Emily! You’ll be as famous as her soon, maybe even bigger than her — no need to be daunted. New Moon rising.
“I-I’d like to inquire about a tape,” she begins rather timidly. Like she doesn’t belong there. And she doesn’t, thinks Emily. Neither of us.
“Name?” she say as matter-of-factly as possible given the moment.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0306, Jeogeot, The Burg
00460305
“He was just standing there when I looked down from the bird. You know, after the plane.”
“Then what?” Philip was into Frank’s story. For a change.
“Just for a second he was there. Looked like, I don’t know, *Superman*. All jacked up like a superhero, you see.”
“Like Impotent Rage?”
“Yeah,” Frank said. “Like Impotent Rage.”
“*Love* Impotent Rage. That’s where I hid my drugs!”
Took Frank a second to get it, then he remembered the figurine in Philip’s trailer with the hollowed out core and pop top head. *Old* trailer. “Oh yeah. Anyway, thought you’d want to know, since, you know, you saw the plane shadows that couldn’t be there too.”
“I *did*,” said Philip without a doubt. “I did indeed. Grapeshot.”
“Grape*seed*,” said Frank.
“Noooo. Grape*shot*. *Franklin*.” Philip liked to call Frank Lynn by his old name when he failed to properly translate anything to this new format they now live in, GTA V imprisoned characters no more. They were free. Thanks to the power of the Alamo. “Remember the Alamo,” Philip would also say to jolt Frank back to the current (virtual) reality. “Remember it and then forget it because we’re in a different place now,” he might follow up, “one that doesn’t stink like *rotting fish*, PHEH.”
Alamo inland sea of GTA V fully transferred over to Nawt Vaya inland sea of Our Second Lyfe. Like Philip before him, Frank was totally on board with it. After all, they always had the dreams and reminiscings to return if needed. Like now.
“Anyway,” Frank continued in that vein, “he was standing at the start of that jutting out place, you know, the, oh what do you call it? Not peninsula.”
“Pier?” Philip offered, trying to help the story along.
“No dawg, nothing wood or anything. A *jetty* — yeah, that’s it. A narrow piece of land jutting into the water in a straight line.
“Or crooked line,” Philip said, thinking of something called the Spiral Jetty. He can’t recall where.
“Okay, so, you know, the Superman person was gone — only appeared a split second like I said…”
“Yeah?” Philip said, egging him on again.
“But when I was walking down that, er, jetty, in a straight line, I also knew he was *pointing* toward something. Something on the other side of the lake as it turned out.”
“Sea,” corrected Philip once more. “Alamo Sea.”
“Yeah, Alamo Sea, then. So I stood near the end of the point, looked across the lake — sea, sorry. There was a boat parked near the tip, but that wasn’t it. Then I heard it. Little Hell, Philip. Place called Little Hell.”
Philip had heard of the location but had also heard it called Heaven and said so. Out of their dreams and back into the present, both looked across the moonlit Nawt Vaya waters and wondered what *that* meant. Little Hell and Heaven both.
(to be continued)
00460304
“Isn’t this a beautiful view of the harbour, Newt? Just lovely.”
“Well,” opined her opposite eating ice cream partner at the stand. “They could have done a better job with the line there dividing the 2 sides of the texture. Makes it obviously unreal. And the blurring–”
“Blurring only makes it more romantic,” quickly countered Wheeler. “This skyline could be any city in the world you want it to be, any virtual burg for that matter. It could be Sydney to me, Melbourne to you. Our choice. Just pick the most romantic city you know and you’re sitting across from it, eating strawberry or vanilla ice cream, also your choice. You like vanilla, I don’t.”
“We better start talking about Nawt Vaya,” said Newt, tired of meaningless chatter. “Why we came here. To this *rendezvous*,” he couldn’t help tack on again. Next time, he promised himself. Gowns and formal attire.
“Okay.” She finished the last 1 1/2 scoops of strawberry in one huge gulp just to try to speed things up and maybe add a little comedy to the matter, then continued to talk with mouth open and muffled voice. “Ow, fthatt *hurfts*.”
“What do you expect, Wheeler?” he said, watching her now deal with brain freeze. He decides to start while she heals. “Let’s take account of the residents of our fair land there in the center of Nawt Vaya. First off, there’s me and you obviously, then Lexi and Philip over in her house on the south edge of the property, then Fink is around too, then Jack is not far away as well — Jack Dogg, I’m obviously talking about here and not any of the other Jacks we’re attached to now. And then Barry De Boy and Wendy are up in that cottage perched above my own home of Newtonia. Do you like that name, Wheeler? Newtonia? Are you able to properly speak yet?”
“Mmmmm. MmmMMMMMMmm.”
“Obviously not. I’ll continue, then. Then there’s Veyot up on the hill, Pearl just up the coast a bit. Then in Juho we have Greg Ogden who’s also an artist — runs STAB now — and then I believe Nada New Year is there too, and also Carolin. And, let’s see, Peter Melanchton–”
“Gone,” Wheeler managed, ice cream headache finally subsiding.
“Right. And then the girl who’s suppose to take his place as summa cum laude graduate of Nawt Vaya State University and her, er, boyfriend I guess we’ll call him. And then Edward is still around.”
“Backwards positioned waterfall,” Wheeler identified his location. “You’re okay with that? Aren’t you?”
“Ahh, *sure*.” He was 1/2 and 1/2 on the issue but he really didn’t have any choice. Unless he did. He’s trying. Date first, then other things. Has to start with a proper date, which apparently this wasn’t. He tries to focus on the census again and away from the Wheeler+Edward continuing issue. “And then Princess Pinky Gumm.”
“She doesn’t count.”
“Oh…. right.” Newt remembers that Wheeler is playing that role, actually. “And… I can’t think of anyone else. Can you?”
“OH. I saw… I saw *Frank*! I totally forgot to tell you.”
“Frank?”
“Yeah. *Frank*. In Juho. At the barber shop when I was getting my hair cut the other day. I was getting the Butterfly No. 25 while he just sat there getting nothing, no styling no treatment, no anything. *Frank*,” she emphasized.
“Frank *who*?” Newt had to question. There were a couple, including a bunny man who hadn’t figured into the plot of these here photo-novels since the middle of the last. But it turned out to be Frank Lynn of GTAV fame.
“And Sep Felton was there too,” said Wheeler. “You know Sep. Butterflies again. Over on Corsica. She’s a stylist in both places. I didn’t even ask her how that worked, dufus that I am. I was *so* focused on getting it all chopped off, letting my scalp breathe again as Winter turns into Spring. I want the Butterfly, I said excitedly almost when I came in the shop. I didn’t realize the synchronicity.”
“You should always be paying attention to synchronicity. Why we’re here,” summarized Newt.
“I know, I know.”
“So… let’s start exploring and we can talk more.”
“My line!”
Someone in desperate need of a haircut himself, or herself, came walking into the picture. It, we’ll call them to remain gender neutral.
(to be continued)
00460303
He listened in while she continued to play her games. It wasn’t a date, she insisted. Casual dress you’ll notice. But Newt was kind of treating it as such. Arrived 30 minutes late. Payback obviously for him being so late the other night to their TV watching down in the bottom of her new dwelling place. Big!
“I don’t know what happened. It just… slipped out of my hands! The whole cone and its triple dip of strawberry ice cream I’ll remind you.”
“No problem, miss. I’ll dip you 3 more.” Sarah “L.A.” Nunchuck had passed the Wheeler test. She’s on the green list as opposed to the red. Newt knew they’d probably be coming here again for future dates or whatever you call this. Rendezvous, she said. “Let’s rendezvous and talk about developments at Nawt Vaya, where we’re going, where we’re heading. But somewhere away from home base. Who knows who’s listening here.”
“Who would be listening?” Newt questioned Wheeler’s logic.
“You know, the neighbors.”
“Veyot? Pearl?” Newt didn’t think the neighbors would be listening in. They had better things to do. Like running art galleries elsewhere in Our Second Lyfe. Yet Wheeler persisted and Newt finally relented. Besides, she found this burg about a 1/2 mile from the lake inland sea quite fascinating — Burg; that was the actual name. “It has an uptown, midtown, and downtown, Newt,” she said about it over the phone while setting up the, ahem, *rendezvous*. “Uptown is classy, midtown is, well, midtown, and downtown is seedy. Then there’s the park to end, west to east. We’ll explore after we have ice cream.”
And so here they are.
(to be continued)
00460302
Newt found himself even happier than he suspected, overjoyed even. Bimbo had texted their treehouse and said she’d be a couple of days late to arrive in Nawt Vaya, perhaps even a couple of years. Fink would keep using the attic computer for his virtual needs, Newt knew.
And he was right about the giraffe instead being an elephant (!) — my bad, he thinks. I’ll pay closer attention to what he says from now on and not immediately rule out such seemingly nonsensical, *surrealist* statements, ha.
But the primmy geometric tiger behind the spindly legged elephant here and also the similarly prim laden Dali Park beside Starbuccaneers below was now gone. He’d made his point, I suppose.
Which reminds me: time to go get my 2 daily 4 shot lattes, ho.
(to be continued)
00460301 (another “late”)
She was far away from her intended destination, she knew that. Led astray by another cube being shaped like her old lover. Who may be her new lover. In the way they knew how or could.
“We’ve travelled so far, Bimbo,” he/it said. “And now we’re here. What do you think it is?”
“Not. Cube?” said Bimbo back in her Half Japanese accent, cute for a robot.
“No, definitely not that,” he replied in an American one but still robotic. “Round instead.”
“Rooooound,” Bimbo tested out the word. “Ciirrrclllleee.” She even traced a circle in front of her with her pointing, stubby blue-green robot arm with no discernable hand to mimic the one on the stone.
“That’s right. Different from us.”
“Diffferrrreeeent,” continued Bimbo in the same way. Then she did something else with her hands this time which made him chuckle. She couldn’t make a hole with the other but he got the point from the first.
“That’s right, Bimbo,” he said. “The f-ckers.”
“Ffffffff———–ers.” Then she said something that might have made him blush if he was capable of doing so. “Us?”
“No, Bimbo. Not in that way. Different.”
“Differrrrent,” repeated Bimbo.
“I’ll show you.”
(to be continued? (probably not))
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0301, Nascera^^, Oooo
Sunklands 