Ahh, good to be back in the saddle again, eh Speck? Back her up!
Damn crazies, homophobic Sooloo thought from his porch up on the hill while listening to the noisy, dirty trawler putter out of the Half Hitch harbor. Now maybe he can finally get some sleep at night.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0405, Nautilus^^, Rim Isles
I remain ensconced in NWES City — more to see and use here.
And I guess Baker Bloch is still the head honcho of my little family of avatars, since I can’t figure out a replacement for him so that he can permanently move to the White Palace which appears to be in the center of Picturetown (who da thunk?). Speaking of which…
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0405, Black Ice, NWES Island^
“Two pickles,” she explained later. “One yellow or sand colored: here. Then the one over there that’s more green.”
“Like my apples!” exclaimed listening and looking Harrison Ford Jett to her side in Spunky’s cafe down on the docks. Charlene’s home away from home, now that she’s in the thick of her dissertation. Detailed description of Knob Noster coming up next! Charlene looks over at her good friend Harrison, then down at his apples. Still in place. Still hasn’t been sold to the highest bidder.
“I suppose so,” she realized, and turned back to the girl holding the pickles in the doctored picture on her computer screen (she wants to be a doctor, after all). “But: sand. Sandman. The sandy pickle. That came first, although it was formed second.”
“What does that mean?” Harrison F. Jett instinctively held one of his apples then the other, as if testing they were the same. Then he turned red as a winesap as he realized Charlene noticed what he was doing. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Force of habit — I’ve been thinking a lot about them later. What it would be to be without them.”
“Well… maybe that fits into this as well.” She puts hand to chin while activating deep thinking mode. She scrolls to the next picture, undoctored this time. She’s losing vision of the future. Detailed description of “Knobby” will be difficult, nay impossible to achieve. She faces the prospect that it could be a stumbling block on her way to fame and glory.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0405, Bellisaria^^, Black Ice, NWES Island^
It’s time you learned the ties of TILE to the Korean Channel, young Kola.”
“Kolya, actually,” the young man, perhaps the young apprentice corrected. He turned to the red clad guy on the mat beside him at the pit fire. “Who are you, sir — really? I know you’re Santa and all but that’s just a costume, a disguise even, if you will.”
The man dressed as Santa chuckled with this, jovial in the moment. “I will call you Pepi Kola you young jokester. See, Pepi? The sacred islands spread out before you from this viewpoint. And it has a heart, a Sacred Heart.” He now looks up in the sky, channeling a trance it seems. “Pink is still with us,” he speaks after a pause, fire crackling louder before them. “And Brown… they haven’t left this plane yet.” He stares back at the sea, at the islands, at the *center*. “Resolution.”
“Well, that’s great and all — I don’t know who this Pink or this Brown is –”
The Santa man snickers again. “Oh you will, young man — young apprentice.”
“Apprentice?” Kolya questions. He has not bought into this Santa dude’s new name for him atall, but he does likewise stare toward what he’s been told are the sacred isles, looking for a heart. He is beginning to see.
—–
“Jesus that was loud!”
“I know. And it’s just starting.” The plane flies into the ship. Pink and Brown are dead after all.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0405, NE Hills, NWES Island^
He was as close to the centre as he could be while remaining on solid.
He looked over at the big cone, where everything started to go wrong. Perhaps The Boy wasn’t here, but his influence has lasted. Through time. Whether he was or wasn’t the same as Illuminatus, the Great God of Chaos and Destruction and Deception and the like, didn’t really matter. Because he was merely a pawn in a game of long duration. Centuries. Yet only seconds as well.
He does a double take. The cone moved!
Someone else was here in this queer, weird land.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0405, Stranger Creek^
—–
“We have to get the brain back, Hucka Doobie. The Abbey can’t survive without it! I’ve seen the picture of the others. It always ends with collapse.”
Hucka takes another sip of her espresso, then: “Perhaps it has something to do with Phil. He is a good spirit aid. He believes in the Piera. He will convince the others.”
“Well — I am READing his book. Finally. I felt that he was waiting.”
“Patiently, though. Spirits are patient in general. Moreso than we are. They have — *time*.”
“It’s *good*. It should have been published.”
“It still can,” returned Hucka Doobie quickly. She takes another sip. She looks beyond Baker Bloch as Kevin A. at the red and green illuminated school in the background. Like Christmas and Santa Claus. “We better get over there. Figure out Unwrap what’s next in the story.”
—–
He looks over at the letters, most of which he doesn’t understand.
“Let’s start at the very beginning,” Miss Crumplebottom offered to Kevin E., helping him read and turn back into Kevin Orchardsity with the A B C’s and 1 2 3’s and all.
“I’m just wondering if you can help a man out who ran out of gas.”
Just down the road.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0405, Corsica^^, Storybrook^
Dawn. March 8th, 2020. She wakes up in that bed again, Barry X.’s arms wrapped around her “tip jars”. Life is good. She remembers to set her watch ahead an hour. Fall back spring forward, she recites in her mind. Best to put the coffee on; surprise Barry X. with a fresh brew. That’s a woman’s duty: to rise before the man and get his day off to a good start. Not so-so, not even great perhaps. But good at the very least.
She reviewed events of the night before. Barry read her the first few pages of his new novel he’d written that day while she was at work, his GAN he called it. She was tired and probably didn’t appreciate it as much as she should. Thus another reason for the coffee, the breakfast. Let’s see, she thinks to herself while rummaging around his refrigerator purchased the day before that, along with a proper writing desk. No more writing his GAN on the kitchen table! he demanded. “All right, all right,” she tried to calm. “Don’t get your panties all in a wad.” It was an expression her mother use to use with her all the time, and now she throws it around indiscriminately to men and women alike. “Don’t get your panties all in a wad,” she said to Gadfly the cook that day when he demanded she pick his dishes up from the counter faster so the customers wouldn’t be served cold food. “Don’t get your panties in a wad!” she shouted at Horace the dog out back, incessantly barking during her only break of the day, a 15 minuter which turned into a 1/2 hour one when she then stepped into one of his special presents beside the door. “Arrrrgh!” she screamed. “ARRRGH!” she exclaimed even louder, then took off the soiled, high heel shoe and wobblingly made her way down the bank to the stream below, washing and washing it until the present was removed and the shiny black gloss of the void revealed again. Putting it back on at the top, she fumingly pointed at Horace all the way to the door, deftly avoiding what remained of the present. “Tumblestone!” she called to the busboy when re-entering the bar. “Clean up outside the back door. And *watch* where you step!” She then glared at Gadfly, at Jake the bartender, daring them to say anything about her break running over. They’d seen her in these moods before. Best to not have a dumpster fire again. Or worse.
She removes eggs from the refrigerator and looks around for a frying pan.
(to be continued?)
X City’s Blurmaid and Horns of Hatton’s Cry Cat (65 & 66).
These are the capital cities of Maebaelia/Satori’s North and South respectively. And here they are again. Attempting to negotiate?
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0405, 100 Story Building, Kowloon^^
“There is some hope here in the upper part of Black Dragon.”
“Black Drake,” she corrected.
“Right. But, see? More black than green here, black equaling rented or ‘in use’.”
“Especially around Black Drake Square,” she offered, taking a better gander.
“Black Dragon,” I corrected in turn.
“Sure. So. You’re saying this is one of those neighborhoods that could work for further stories.”
“Well, we have Rock Ramby and partner Vain and Artery Boy in the neighborhood already. He goes by Gill Alex now, in honor of his red and blue splitness.”
“I get that,” she responded. “No one else will, but I get it.”
“Like the RR (in Wazob).”
“Got it.”
“And then, let’s see, there’s the Red Umbrella of course, then Spunky’s, a local, popular eating and drinking joint.”
“Popular, local drinking and eating establishment,” she agrees.
“Then another gallery across the way from the Red Umbrella. And then, as we speak, there’s a dude over there who’s rented the place next door to it. And then, as soon as I rented the building for *our* gallery, someone almost immediately rented the building next door. See, Hucka Doobie? It’s infectious. Everything happens in clusters.”
“Like a gumball machine. The black is clustering together amongst the green. In Black.”
“And *then*, there’s Apple’s Orchard.”
“Applewood, yes.”
A new Black Dragon record store with gunn(s).
