Category Archives: 0410

PickleSong

“Any word from Sally lately?”

“Not since Milwaukee,” he hiss-spoke from his wheelchair.

—–

“He hadn’t heard from Sally in a while, Wheeler, not since what he indicated were his Happy Days, before she left.”

“Hmmm… so, er, he’s *not* Dr. Mouse. The one who operated on Mick and use to be called the Doctor *of* Mouse.”

“Apparently not.”

“Nugent — did that name ring a bell? We’ve heard Sally also go by that alias.”

“Forgot to ask, sorry.”

Wheeler frowned from her position across the Blue Feather table, knowing in all likelihood she wouldn’t have made the same error. “Let’s get down to other business,” she then said, patting the top of a large pile of papers before her. He didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation. Collagesity needed him there more than he was!

—–

“Well why don’t you just f-ing take over again, will ya?” he exclaimed later in a fit of exasperation. And they were only about 1/5th the way through the pile still.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0410, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Pickleland

triads 02

“She comes here every day, and every day a different game. I haven’t seen a repeat yet. She must be testing the atmosphere, maybe making sure it isn’t poison. 4 games left in the cache. I predict an actual, breathing human — *not* a mascot — will be arriving in the week. Wanna bet on it?”

“No, I’ll take your word for it. You’ve been here a lot longer than me. In this Castle Town. Isn’t that what it’s usually called?”

—–

We were taking a break from strategizing. I turned away for a moment, tired of looking them in the eye. I’d figured something out. Mascots — that’s what they were. Only mascots. Not real atall. Only symbols of a writer… and an artist. The two aspects of *me*. Maybe it *is* destiny that I take Baker Bloch’s place as leader of the blog and allow him to ascend to the White Palace to rejoin Hucka Doobie. I’ll have to talk to Charlene about it. But I’m kind of finished with these two.

He takes another sip of wine. They hadn’t even asked for anything to drink, not water, not booze. Nothing. That was the first big tip-off.

—–

“It’s time to play rock, paper, scissors, Barry, to see which one of us goes to Castle Town.”

“Oh all right,” answers Barry.

“Ready? One, two…”

—–

“Oh, and also a pad or something that I can write on, thanks.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0410, Jeogeot^^, Omega^^, Southern

fulfilled

“Oh no, Toddles. Those are much too big for you. Let’s go over there to the children’s section if your heart’s set on new shoes today.”

“I want *those*,” she demanded, quite unlike the kind, precocious, precious little thing we’re accustomed to in this here blog and accompanying photo-novel. She knew what they were. A one way ticket out of here. “*Those*,” she reinforced, holding her point. Holding, holding…

—–

“Land sake’s, child. You’ll never be able to walk back across town with those things on.”

“I’ll manage.” She’ll grow into them soon enough.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0410, Black Ice, NWES Island^

X-girl

It was the first meeting of their TILE discussion group, yet without a name. Mr. Z, with continentally constituted backpack per usual, then his prettier brother-cousin also named Mr. Z. Let’s call him Zimmy. And then, thirdly but not lastly, as people like to say, a scowling, non-sister cousin called — let’s go with Olive Oylslick, not to be confused with Owley Oilstick over in Constitution who works a bread stand. No relation atall between them except a common 5th grade kindergarten teacher named Ed. Or was it Ralph. Anyway, to the meeting…

The lights had to be dimmed because TILE was not an officially recognized religion or philosophy or even game in this particular part of The City. One of the reasons the discussion group was formed was to help change all that, bring TILE out in the open.

“Minute taker anyone?” Mr. Z offered to start the proceedings. Owley, I mean, Olive raised her hand. She knew she had the only handwriting anyone could decipher amongst their group. Her favorite push pencil magically appeared in it. She had that power; another advantage. A writing pad popped into existence in the other one. She glared in the direction of the Z’s, waiting for them to open their big fat mouths again and produce things to write about. She was patient, but not of a mental kind. Not any more. She manifested two pills in her mouth and swallowed, one red and one blue. That way her size stayed the same.

With this, Phyllis also manifested on the far end of the room beside the purple stripes of the TILE flag they had collaged together just last night: the last member, the one Olive forgot she even invited to the group. Met her at a chilly Denver airport on a snowy April day in July. Chile Colorado. And she had Ralph or Ed for a 5th grade kindergarten teacher too. Anyhoot, she’s here — and I suppose this is the real Owley. So Phyllis, not Owley, complete with bread and a little milk to wash it down with to show she cares.

“Some of these colors will have to be removed,” she declares while looking sideways, making Olive begin to scribble.

—–

40 minutes later, she had the minutes to the meeting. Trouble is, her cousins, the Z’s, hadn’t even said a thing while watching her slash away at the notepad with the push pencil, clicking it every couple of minutes to produce new graphite as the old wore away. She just dictated what Phyllis was telling her. No one else saw or heard Phyllis. No one else knew she existed. It was all in the pills. But they *had* their manifesto. Olive looked up, realized what was going on. She’d been in a trance for quite a while. She looked at her cousins, Zimmy and the other one who only goes by Mister. “You can go home now,” she gruffly declares. “I’ll email you the typed results tonight.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0410, Black Ice, NWES Island^

island boys

“I’m going to go outside the city walls like this, Audrey. The Blue Thorn. *Not* the Blue Rose. ”

Audrey! she thought. *That’s* how he sees me. “But the rose and the thorn come from the same… Plant.”

“Robert?” questioned the secret superhero guise of Jeffrie Phillips, ready to be unleashed upon the world. Or at least the rest of the Confederation outside Teepot. “Nah. He’s over in NWES still. Never left the Jeogeot continent. Been there, oh, let’s see, 12 years? Xenosaurus (sim) I recall.”

“Interesting,” said Silhouette, only taking form when projected upon. Like now. Audrey she was. She changed to match what was there in his eyes. He changes, she changes. Both have superhuman powers.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0410, Black Ice, Jeogeot^^, NWES Island^, Teepot^^

continuation

“There’s no middle (sim) on this map, Charlie. What are you (still) hiding from me?”

—–

Better get him (Peter Oesso) back to square 01…

—–

“There was no middle sim on that map back there (in the school), Poetry — sister of mine.”

“Maybe,” she repeated in her pleasant enough voice. Made for a family member.

“I have some questions for you.” But then, looking right at the colorful watercolor painting on the wall while listening to the noisy, meaningless cockatoo chatter on, he realized he needs to ask about umbrella with a capital “U”. Umbrella.

—–

The sister (?) turned ugly again. Better get her back up the stairs just back there to lover Barry X. Vampire for her own middleing centering.

—–

“He was asking about the middle, where I was bourne.”

“What did you tell him?” Barry was itching for more plot revealing. The appearance of Waka Wajaka several days ago had really freaked him out. He had a Freak Out. Hmmm.

“I told them there was a motel. Over in a place with a heart in its name. Room 03 of 05. Secret room as well that acts as a control, a key — spies on the others.” All men are dicks, she was thinking.

“This is more than I’ve heard you talk in a long time, Poetry Dancer,” Barry X. Vampire responded, pleased. “You’ve spoken about this room once before.”

“Maybe,” Poetry replied, staring back at the fire. She had returned to her usual, non-talkative self. Reversion. Ironic, I suppose, that she was beautiful once more. Barry X. Vampire must hurry tonight; get more info out of her if possible. He thought “info” there instead of “information” to save time (for example).

“Room 03,” he prompted. “Big Black Smoke was guarding. Charlie mentions in LOST. Kinks song.” Ahh, he thought, solving part of the mystery himself. The Kinks and Zappa will always be linked now, thanks to the Piera. (David) Watts.

“It is what it is.” No more info will be found 2-night.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0410, Abbey^^

violet too

“The blog owners were here inquiring about progress,” TronAxis speaks down to an imaginary Venus Flytrap, his estranged partner for the moment. “They’re asking about the Kate McCoy/Katy Kidd timeline, wondering how long it will take to get back to the Storybrook story, the main one.”

“Nineteen,” she says upwards.

“What’s that dear?”

“We’re on nineteen. The Sun.”

“The Who?”

—–

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0410, Corsica^^, Southeast^

freedom 02

The gothic house near the lip of Centre Sink or whatever. He sighs and says aloud, “whatever,” then returns his attention to the crosses (knives) in the yard next to it, like little escaped, pixelated birds heckling his lack of knowledge about the whats, wherefores, whys. Like the death of Vainom Kug over in VHC City, who, he vows to his own grave, did not die in Vain (but instead in that city). Maybe he should consult with Vain and Artery Boy on the subject. He scratches his chin again. He’s wearing a cleft out on it with all the pondering, considering, ruminating he’s done lately. Hmm, sir. Hmmm again. Hmmm.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0018, 0410, Ashenlave^, Corsica^^, Urqhart^

helmet world

“I was in a virtual reality, Grandmama, Grandpapa. Two wrestlers had just made an alliance. One had to manage the other. That one had been replaced by the other in the far past.”

“Virtual reality, huh,” groused Grandmama. “Is *that* why it took you so long to find us?”

“*Finally*,” reinforced Grandpapa to her side.

“Then I found a store selling progressive rock t-shirts, but, get this, they were *cartoon* versions.” Guy shows his Grandmamapapa one of the t-shirts, with a parody of Genesis’ classic ‘Nursery Cryme’ album cover on the front. “Pretty cool, huh? They had *2* Genesis t-shirts, one for this and then for ‘Foxtrot’. You know, the one with ‘Supper’s—”

“No ‘Lamb’?” interrupts Grandpapa, staring at the thing. Among early Genesis efforts with front man Peter Gabriel, it’s the only one that interests him personally. He likes the story. The music is glossier and fuller. He says so, and adds, “just like Grandmama here.” Here reaches across the table and pinches her fleshy side.

“Stop it, Jack,” she complains, swatting his flirting hand away but at the same time taking the “complement” in stride. “We’re *suppose* to be angry with *Guy* here. 15 weeks since the last visit? Too long young man.”

“I’m trying to tell you that I can’t *find* your place that easy in all these twisty-turny alleys. And there’s so many distractions.” He indicates the shirt he’s wearing again. “Look,” he decides to display. “Here’s the other one.”

“Well sit down, Guy and I’ll put some more tea on.” Grandpapa attempts a joke about Guy putting on another t-shirt and Grandmama putting on another tea which fails in mid-effort. He clears his throat and then drives home his point about “Lamb”. “‘Lamb’ is *real*, not fantasy. *Not* virtual reality. It’s the gritty streets of NYC that we found anti-hero Rael spray painting his name on.

“Subways,” Guy corrects. “The album says subways.”

“Yes, of course.” Guy knew his Genesis. He respected “Lamb” too. He just digs early Genesis in general. The only album he really likes by them post-Gabriel is “Duke”. He laments the fact that the t-shirt fat pack didn’t include that album cover. Nor “Lamb”, but “Lamb” was probably simply harder to do, since no singular focus on the cover. Probably hard to create a cartoon image of Rael. Maybe that adds to Grandpapa’s point, he then ponders. Rael is too *real* to turn into an animation.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0410, Kowloon^^

i.c. planets

The Wild Wild West they called it in the Far East, but most of the wilds was hidden. You’d need a powerful telescope and also know exactly the right location to spot. And the Red Umbrella predicted it all. Again.

Far East was different, they proudly declared. No wilds, no crime much atall in comparison. But the murder of Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, child of grieving Rabbit 01 and Rabbit 02 over in Braynard’s Place, changed all that. Red, red rats were found to infest their incomplete sewers and subways (etc.) as well. Red from feasting on blood this time, red from the tainted water left behind.

Golden Jim from Gaston was here to investigate and, hopefully, put a stop sign to all that new redness over in the east. He knew exactly which one to choose.

—–

“Where’s your chief?” asked Ms. Tanner to the staff psychiatrist the next day at the police station.

“Oh, he *claims* he’s on vacation over at NWES on the mainland, but my guess is he’s snooping around for a new case.

“NWES?” Nipsie Tanner declared in surprise. “That’s where *I’m* from.”

“Well I’ll be,” offered back Jack “Jiff” Danielsonlanderscroft, knowing more than he’s letting on.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0410, Gaston^^, Jeogeot^^, NWES Island^