https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zO7XOKpE7nM
Linen sees the front of a train coming out of a tunnel into Happy Town and recognizes himself. “My face!”
Then as he continues to watch, the train surprisingly flies off its tracks around a bend and leaves the location over the word LOVE.
Not the first time someone of that name or very similar has emphasized the spelled out word.
“You don’t understand, Madam Mayor,” he spoke formally to his wife of 27 years. “I was soo tempted just to walk into those green green hills and never come back. I envisioned myself doing so. Still can.”
“So (the Our Second Life continent of) Maebaleia doesn’t stand a chance. If people here found out.”
“No,” he said plainly, bluntly. “Look at the depopulation of the once vaunted Hills of Bill in the central part of our continent here. Probably no actual spiritual energy left there by now. I’ve popped around there recently.”
“What of Horns of Hatton? Possibility still, you said earlier (in the week).”
“I-I don’t think so.”
Wheeler, presently playing the role of Mayor of this here Our Second Lyfe community that now calls itself Cass City, finally gives in. “Then we’ll have to block the whole area off. Our Second Life must be quarantined from Their Real Life. The link with the actual Azores will have to go away, like a beanstalk to Heaven being chopped down.”
“Suppose,” hubby Newt said back. They were in his downtown apartment at the moment, studying the corkboard Newt brought over earlier from her office in uptown where she usually stayed. More separate but equal stuff going on there. If possible, we’ll try to clarify the living arrangements — and the corkboard — soon.
“Another idea is to allow select members of our community to visit there, experience first hand the temptation just to chuck virtual in favor of real.”
“Keep the conduit open; don’t get rid of the, er, skybox. Heaven. Make it a religion instead.”
“Right right. Tell them they can go *visit* Paradise. But they also have to come back. They can’t stay there permanently. Or else–”
“They *die*, he he.” Newt was digging all this. Like a deep, dark grave.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0041, 0407, Cass City^, Europe, Google Street View, Hills of Bill^, Horns of Hatton^, Maebaleia/Satori
“No, I wasn’t really gone,” answered still neighbor Sandy to Pink, “I just changed forms. And sexes as you can see.” Now we can *really* get to know each other better, he thinks. The search for All Orange continues…
His spiral eyebrow curls even higher.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0040, 0407, Bellisaria, Sandfly
Backpack loaded even more down than usual, Mr. Z sets off for the opposite coast, Southside some call it, more private than public as “Northside” here is more public than private.
He drops down beside the yellow ickle who bids him farewell and says he wishes he could go as well. Mr. Z points out that he’s a figurine and not really an avatar able to move about or he’d gladly take him along with him, if only to help carry his heavy pack. “Thank you,” the ickle said to this, happy to be even thought of.
Below Constantynople, he quickly encounters elephants where once was an empty Abyss, and not too long ago. Despite a tiger also being in their mix, he safely makes his way to the ridge in the distance that marks the boundary of Myrtle’s property, the highest point on the island despite being only about 15 meters above sea level.
Finding the Passable Property Corner (PPC), he successfully bypasses the ridge to entering Myrtle’s public part.
Damn. Forgot to close the outhouse door, she thought while staring at it from the single room she lived in, which Mr. Z. subsequently has to walk by to get to the house.
Cow, eh? How appropriate. He ignores the lingering smell while skirting, sights set on his goal.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0039, 0407, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File
She expelled the black from herself in another thought to be safe zone underneath the old council chambers, a ratskeller they named it. Weed caller outer Heidi (?) use to sit right over there in the place, she recalls, her spot like Sheldon. Where was councilman Sheldon Leonard these days, the big ol’ fern? Anyway, back to the bathing suit beauty across from her. Shelley Stuthers, object of desire for Albert Douglas, Biff Carter, and maybe a bunch of others. Vying for her hand. It wasn’t open for business. She continually held the 5 fingers that represented a stop sign up. “Have you seen my latest portrait?” she says to the up and down white clad double opposite her. “Just a hand; combo of 2 hands, really — hanging in the gallery upstairs, we could say. Let’s go; I’ll throw on a robe to protect us.” And so they go up to stare. Stairs work, actually, ratskeller just around the turn.
“Do you see it?” she said. “10 fingers reduced to 8 if that helps.”
White gowned Alessandra saw Toy, Play, Mine, Thing. And that became its title, attributed to Barry De Boy again since it naturally fit into his “Does this look square to you?” series, being exactly 814 x 814 pixels in size. But he didn’t like to explain the work in any detail. Later, comparisons with Dali’s last painting called “The Swallow’s Tail” would come about.
https://rosiehelendale.wordpress.com/2013/08/01/dali-art-my-personal-favourites/
(to be continued?)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0407, Jeogeot, Sunklands^
Penny kept leaning over, even stealthily unloosening her blouse front a little bit. But Shelley saw (of course). So did non-Umbrella eyed Sandy. It would cause quite the fight later between the two. Housemates no more after that. Edward just had that much power with his looks.
“Ohhhh, Penny, Sandy,” he uttered, making sure to mention both of the hosts, “can’t eat another *bite*. How about you, Shelley? You done?” Shelley was still picking at the last of her meal but she knew this meant they had to move to the next stage of the party beyond food. Edward had what he wanted from this location. The sweeper appearing behind him mysteriously muttered “fo’ fo’ fo'” just as Shelley was thinking this.
—–
“I think this case is wrapped up, Pretty. *Petty*.” He turns red again. “Pretty much wrapped up,” he tried to cover himself.
“Thanks Officer Glammerpuss.”
The place will have to be quarantined for a week because of the moondust but the business should be able to reopen then.”
“Cathy will be pleased.”
“Yes.”
“Did you get all the rocks?”
“We think so. There’s one that looks like Neil Armstrong, then one like Buzz, then the other one — I assume it’s the 3rd.”
“Collins,” answered Petty to this, due to go on his other job in 2 hours and don a chef’s hat while ditching the inspector’s coat, no rest for this busybody. He reached into it to withdraw a match, ready to relight his current stogie, 8th of the night. At one point there was even 2 in his mouth at once. so excited he was about the news. Queen! Coming to Hardrock. So says Glammerpuss, the big, well, he just loves Queen. They both do! Ah heck, might as well try. Officer seems to be hinting around.
“Listen, Glammerpuss… Chuck.”
“Tim. You call me Tim.”
“Listen, Chuck. I was wondering…”
“Queen?” It just came out of his mouth automatically. Petty turned to stare into his eyes. Chief Wigwam walked up, interrupting the moment as he was suppose to. He gazed at the ribbon on the wrapped up door, symbolic of the case itself. He thought about procedure, getting ducks lined up in a row.
“Better start the paperwork on this Glammerpuss while the memories are fresh. Petty — aren’t you due to present me with a fresh dove omelet in, say (he checks his watch), 2 hours?”
“2 1/2,” states the chef-inspector to this. “Gotta warm up the oven first. Say, Wigwam, can you give us a moment. There’s just one wrinkle on the case we have to iron out.”
“It’s Collins,” spoke Wigwam. “The one they always forget the name of.”
A small smile breaks on Petty’s face. “No, not that, Chief. Something else. Just… give us a moment.”
“Oh alright. See you when the sun comes up. Glammerpuss — paperwork.” He walks away.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0407, Lower Austra^, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus
—–
“So I was over here paying my rent and I thought we’d hold an improptu Table meeting. Thanks for making the time, Wheeler. I see you’re still dressed as Shelley.”
“Like the clothes, like the fit.”
“But you’ll go back to being her mom, right?”
“Oh sure.”
“We still need that angle of course. And… looks like Arthur might not be making it.”
“No, you locked him up for being married to me or making love to me. Something. He’s still in jail over in, let’s see, Morgan? Has the jail been deleted? Guess not,” Wheeler answers herself. “Or else it seems he’d be free to join us.”
“Right, I’ll check on that,” Baker still dressed as Policeman Clubb replies.
“Hope you have better luck than the last thing *I* checked.”
“Morgan — deletion, yes. Which brings us to perhaps our main topic. Spider. But first, lemme just see if I can call Arthur. I believe I, as Clubb, allowed him to keep his phone on his body, after a full search on the rest, ha.”
Wheeler smiled. In that 30 minute window allowed, she’d done a full search too but for different reasons. Shelley, I mean. Not Wheeler. Although she was wearing purple at the time. And it’s *not* Arthur Kill but Kill van Kull, a sophisticated, clean as a whistle, non-crinimal twin cousin. It was all a mistake, a mix-up. She looks up at the screen. This may be him here too, she realized. Or Clarence, although he was going by a different name if so. This was the last dance in the created town of Morgan (Orient PO) whatever. It ended after that, for Wheeler but also for everyone involved, all the group, the gang.
The receiver rang but there was no body around.
After 6 rings, Baker got back to the subject of likewise caged Spider. The numbers deleted the town, but it had to be all 24 to work. He had another idea, tried Arthur/Kill van Kull again, let it ring 24 times this go. Didn’t work.
But not because Spider didn’t hear it.
The deed was already done. Newt shows up to the meeting — Shelley’s father — *not* playing Arthur Kill importantly. He stares over at Wheeler, giving her a look like: you could have made the effort too. He felt she was becoming trapped in a role; unable to be herself any longer. How far would she go?
“Where’s Grassy?” Newt then asks, seeing the empty chair across from him.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0407, Mountain Lake^, Nautilus, NORTH, Omega^^, Rooster's Peninsula
“Thanks for coming over, Baker Bloch.”
“Zapppa, please. With an extra p please.”
“Sure, sure,” Wheeler responded, a common reply for the generally agreeable gal these days. She’s mellowed over time. She’s comfortable with her power as chief female of the blog and the photo-novels. She can morph into others and still be secure in her identity. Like Eyela. “Anyways, Franklin, eh? What’s that all about??”
“I thought you said there was a picture involved.”
“Keep up, darling. We’ve already talked about that.”
He rubs his bald head some more, eyes the referenced picture again through his blue and red lenses. Spaced Ghost when he was young. The chief male of the blog’s father. Now he’s old. Old old. With a cane. Might have to shift into a wheelchair even soon. Yes, they talked about the picture, Baker Bloch’s father, already. Before the start of this post. On to other subjects. “Franklin, yeah,” he relents, firmly in the present now. “A mystery. Ouroboros.”
“Cradle to grave — in the same place. Accident, some say. Meaningful, others would determine. Like us. Especially…”
“Especially,” he finished for her, “since we didn’t plan it that way. I was just digging up the most relevant grave to our story in that cemetery. The one you directed me to be in. At 32/32.”
“Correct, but Baker Blinker was actually directing that scene, since she’d recovered from her mysterious illness already. Hmmm… mystery again.”
“Donald *predicted* this.” Zapppa points in the direction he thinks Towerboro lies from this central Jeogeot location. “Just up the road here. We could visit him together; ask him some more questions.”
“I was heading back to Big Woods,” Wheeler replied, “but what the heck. Let’s go.” She gets up to leave. “Goodbye Spaced Ghost,” she says while waving at the picture on the wall behind the counter. Zapppa waves weakly as well. They head north not south tonight, then. Unexpected once more. But the unexpected has firmly become the expected, so…
“It’s one of the ones that we had to give up when we moved to Rooster’s Peninsula here, Hucka Doobie. But as you can see, there’s (Mr.) Bean, there’s Tom (Kite) — front and center here. Combined: Tom Bean.”
“Fascinating,” Hucka Doobie admitted. “So we go back to Tungaske? Canada?”
“Ontario at least,” replied Baker Bloch.
“Ahh. Picturetown.” Hucka Doobie suddenly felt sorry she/he wasn’t directly a part of those Canadian based collage series, the In and the Out. With his/her analysis, I mean.
Baker turns. “You seem to be changing back into a bee-man,” he observed.
“Admittedly I’m slipping. A bit.”
Poor Hucka Doobie. If you don’t nurture a character and pay attention to them, they tend to atrophy. Hucka Doobie became stuck on Baker Bloch, unable to deal with the stuff happening all around her/him. What does that say about me (though)?
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0407, Canada, Canada/Picturetown, Canada/Tungaska, Nautilus, NORTH, Rooster's Peninsula
Sunklands 