May 24, 2023 · 10:44 am
“My card, sir.” And then he took his leave. When the matre d asked who to say left it while he was walking away, he just shot back: “Someone very smart; say it was from Albert Einstein.” “Very well, sir,” Edvin replied. The stranger made a turn up the stairs past the site of the future Barry De Boy painting and was out of sight if not out of mind. Even though Edvin thought he might be. Odd, he kept thinking, staring at it. How can odds be evens? And was there an s cut off at the end? But Osse-Motor. That spelt trouble. Christopher’s more visible brother Jimmy lost a mansion because of it. Perhaps several. Forty lost an eye.
One hour later, Eight was with town gossip and bigot Rag Doll instead of counterpart Eighty, wasting time instead of making hay. Deadly time. Edvin moved toward them with the redeeming card. “Someone left this for you,” he said, extending it. Eight took, read. “Albert Einstein?” she questioned, looking top left. “Throw it away,” Rag Doll opposite her suggested after quickly grabbing and reading it herself, knowing the name. “Worthless. Nonsensical.” She knew what Osse-Motor meant better than anyone in town. Dang, she could lose her *own* house if Eight (or Eighty) took this seriously. An eye!
(to be continued)
March 28, 2023 · 10:01 am
Gold face? he thinks.
“AVOCADO,” came the booming voice back, reading his mind. Everything was out in the open here, nothing hidden. She, Elvira, addressed Baker as Mountain Man.
Yes: Mountain Man. A fellow drawer. He must help (2 places at once). Showing him an easier way to the top is a *beginning*.
Then there’s the other side.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0413, Blue Mountain, City Park, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West
Tagged as Baker Bloch^*++++@, Duncan Avocado^*======%%&, Elvira^^+++, Mountain Man^*+++, PYRAMID
January 10, 2023 · 1:14 pm
Shelley loves hanging around the beach. Arthur and she have such a great time night after night, day after day here… in Mortons Gap overall. She could see living here, staying here. A bit laggy, but they’re working on it, reducing shaders, draw distance, etc. Even minimizing screens, their view on the world, if needed. It wasn’t ideal. But — so pretty.
If she could just erase that full moon faux pas from her memory. What did Arthur do that night? she wondered for certainly not the first time. Because she’d found lipstick on his coat which wasn’t hers — she rarely uses it except when they hit the town. And the smell of lobsters. Or was it crabs? — she’d have to check the difference between the 2 later on when they walk down to the fisheries. Do it nice and subtle.
Nearby Arthur was building another one of his patented sand castles, complete with ants that he’d found on the vegetated dunes in back. He was trying to recreate the past. In truth, someone had put a spell on him. George/Musician most likely, if only from his dreams. He wanted to walk up to the real Ant Castle later that day, thus Shelley’s excuse to visit the fisheries kind of on the way. Ah heck, she’ll just ask him. Why does she care if he stayed with another woman that night. *She* was with a woman that night. Served her right. Painful, very painful, but… what was the right expression for it? Tit for tat, she decided. Or tit for tit — something.
She swung down from the palm tree, walked over. “About ready to go?”
He was about to coronate the new king and queen of the ants after building their thrones. “5 more minutes,” he requested, herding the crowd in the right direction.
November 8, 2022 · 2:58 am
“I love you Chuck, baby, but this is not my bar.”
“Good–” Chuck looked around — no blonde. More chicks in the joint where that came from, though. There’s a red haired one back there, a black haired one over there. Looks too smart for me. I think I’ll choose the red.
“No one, *sob*, danced with me!”
“Aww, Ferrn. You still got me. Your old friend Bookie!”
“Here. Use one of my pages as a handkerchief. Go ahead. It won’t hurt.”
A soggy, wadded up piece of paper appears between Shelley’s legs, waking her up.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0413, Hana Lei^^, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^, Sansara
Tagged as Angry White Bird^*======, Bookie^*======^^======!, Fern Stalin^^++, LEGS+, Lichen Roosevelt^^++++, NODAL++++, PINK FLOYD, Shelley Struthers^^++++, Vampire Chuck^*+, Wendy/Breeze^^+++$, Wendy^^$
August 28, 2022 · 12:46 pm
“Hold on slow down,” commanded Arthur Kill from the passenger seat, loaded down with weapons of not so mass destruction and thus unable to drive. Instead Ken of Cable Isle’s Junk Yard and Mechanic Shop acted as his chauffeur, having been spared for a bit more to do this job after he successfully fixed the old ’57 Chevy just minutes before the 11 PM deadline, dead being the operative word here. Afterwards, however, we anticipate his story will end the same as his former partner Bobby’s: planted in the same paltry town cemetery as Arthur Kill rose from just day before yesterday’s tomorrow thanks to Wheeler Wilson and her wicked witchy ways. They may even just reuse the wooden coffin Harry or Harold the Gnome made specifically for Kill, which long Ken could fill out pretty nicely as well, they might determine. There’s also admittedly a racist angle to this possible reuse since both were black men. We need not go into the town’s sordid history here and the gnomes’ strong involvement with it. Arthur Kill’s corrupted morals have nothing to do with ethnicity. White Wheeler Wilson, for instance, is just as bad in many ways, perhaps even worse in some. And Ken is as innocent as the driven snow in all this.
“Wait here,” he further ordered to Ken, and got out of the car to inspect shoes laid out on the stairs of the small house, flip flops more specifically, 8 in number, a suspicious number indeed given what he was looking for.
I’ll go in and try to get information from these stick hicks one by one, he thinks, killing them as I count them off. Could be 4 regular human beings, but, dare he dream it, could be *one* thing. “Keep the engine going,” he barked at Ken, not caring if the people inside (if they were people) heard him or not.
Turns out it was 4 humans to his disappointment. He popped them off 1 2 3 4. The 2nd and 3rd were too scared even to talk. The 1st just screamed — Kill put an end to that quickly. The 4th was interesting. “Dog gonnit, I know that name,” he said in a weary old voice to Arthur’s question, his mind obviously too gone to realize what was happening, and that 3 of his relatives or whatever (Kill assumed everyone was related to everyone else in this stick hick house) had perished and that he was in all likelihood next. “Dog…” he said, pausing before finishing with “gonnit.” “Dog,” he said again, and let it stand alone this time. “Dog!” he said, remembering. *POP*
“Thanks,” Arthur said, blowing smoke from the barrel of the just fired pistol as was his custom. Dog it is.
(to be continued)
June 28, 2022 · 6:52 am
“You should really look at the scenery while you’re here, Baker Bloch.”
“Busy eating grapes right now, thanks.” He spits another skin into the sand while digesting the innards of one, another being positioned to pop in. After a good number of tries (MUNCH) he’s actually starting to like the fruit, but the outside can still go to hell as far as he’s concerned. Phooey on it. SPIT Phooey!
“I’ll surf in a minute and that’ll catch your attention.” She would wink at him if he weren’t facing the other direction.
Understanding Wheeler and her ways, he briefly pauses in his activity to point to a sign on the beach’s edge.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said, using the eyes in the back of her head to observe. “But wouldn’t it be fun if you actually *cared*.”
“TILE balloons over there,” he deflected. SPIT
“Whatever.” She was really beginning to see why Hucka Doobie was so frustrated with him (MUNCH), even causing her to turn back into a bee-person lately, it seemed. Probably a bathroom break coming up… now.
SPIT “Gotta wee,” he said while rising. She must be reading the script again.
April 13, 2022 · 9:24 am
It was getting foggy again. They must be close to the library. “Who are you?” she demands from the nefarious agent before her — ‘nother one — on this 3rd of levels, with yet another door to go through to reach the absolute end. “47,” he said, still reading, which was a lie because he was 23. Woman now: no hair on the lip atall. Thanks to the drink. “Reading about you, actually.”
“Oh yeahhh?” She was trying to act tough, heard gays or lesbians tend to do that. Stereotyping, even though she is one of ’em now.
“Um, yeah,” he answered plainly back, wondering about the posturing. She adjusts and leans left. She thinks it is the right thing to do — to back down from this man who seemingly has a plan. “Panama,” he continues to follow that last sentence. “Bridge between North and South.”
“Phooeysticks,” she barked, and then actually covered her mouth, wondering where the words come from. Phooeysticks? What kind of childish utterance was that?
But then she remembers saying it, long ago. In a crib by the silver shore. She said it to her Pop.
She looks toward the end which is not quite the end. “What’s behind the curtains, Pop?” She was talking in her head to her long dead father, going on 20 years now. “Oz,” came the kind voice back. “Or Ozzie; whichever you wish, darling.” She now knew she was dreaming but couldn’t wake up still. “Go to the pulpit and see,” requested the voice again. Agent 23 remained silent and frozen, his role done for now. She proceeded forward and sat.
She still held the pop in her left hand, which was the channeling device. She still heard Pop in her head. “Feel the landscape, feel the *ground*,” as the lightning struck all around the picture before her. The tree! she thought. The swamp tree, but a… tamer one. One I can actually deal with. Not the one…
She recalled the last level. Sykes.
No need to go there now.
February 5, 2022 · 12:37 pm
Visit to the unusual “eye rock” and subsequent discussions. Lester Jackson, owner of the cornfield, wanted to name it *I* owa and town councilman Alex Bald countered with Hawk*eye*. They would fight it out later that day over a good ol’ game of Iowa chesskers, 1/2 chess and 1/2 checkers where black always moves first. Make that Hawkeye chesskers, because Alex won. Plans to move the Hawkeye Rock to his town’s square were in the works before they could say night night to each other. The next morning neighboring Taylor County and its superior moving company based in Siam was rung up. “Ringgold County here,” they started, then cut to the chase. “We need a crane.” “It’ll cost you,” came the not-so-neighborly reply, terms which later telescoped back into the equally unusual 14 year old girl and her twins.
And that’s how Rose ended up in Our Second Lyfe on the Omega continent in the Tesseract House with the tailors, who are actually Taylors.
“Andy! Bee!” she joked through the door she couldn’t remember was oriented east or west on this particular day. “Come quick; he’s done!” And so they entered the bedroom for the first time in who knows how long, maybe Tuesday.
“Why do you have him tied up?” asked innocent Tealy, stuck on his one color. The more worldly, multi-hued Tillie explained it to him later.
“Oh, *that* kind of creation.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0413, Iowa, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^
Tagged as Alex Bald^*==, Leila/Eyela/Rose Wells^^++++$, Lester Jackson^*==, ROPES+, Tealy^*+++, Tillie^^+++
December 10, 2021 · 9:57 am
He figured this was his boat since he had the keys. And the Maebaleia battle flag. Was he finally heading home, away from *here*? He needed to get off this island at least. He knew that. But where? So many ports of call on this aptly named continent of Nautilus. He might as well be a submarine and attack it from the rear. But he was a woman’s man, he recalls. He had a sister.
She let him go. She’d read in the script she was suppose to do this but he didn’t know that, not quite yet. He’d received the pink April copy that morning in the post and she’d already gotten the July blue, with white between them. He wasn’t even in-between, as if stuck on one side of a flag. At least he wasn’t sitting in back and it flapping and slapping him, like poor Zach Black, still without his Jazz Attack, also thanks to Fern. Fern was *real* smart if you didn’t get that part, that role. Because you probably couldn’t. I’d give it at least a 145 to comprehend and play accurately. Sarah I think was the actor’s name, with Jody playing Marilyn, a somewhat lesser challenge. But that was all a long time ago now. I was a different person, a mere child in comparison.
The old and white man had a task, he knew this. To get the hell out of Dodge. West might be best since East is least. Little did he know that Fern Stalin would be waiting for him there as well.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0413, Nautilus, Rim Isles, Yd Island^
Tagged as Fern Stalin^^++, Keith B.^*++++$&, MORGAN/MORGAINE, NODAL++++, Zach Black Jazz Attack^*=, Zach Black^*++++%%
October 17, 2021 · 10:12 am
She rubbed her bare arms, trying to stay warm. About time to pull out that gray fleece jacket she likes so much, she thinks. Fall is here — finally. “Oh cheer up please, Bartholomew,” she said over to her employee, her roommate at the moment. “You know, I use to be a kid, just like you. I know what you’re going through.”
“Do you?” he answered dismissively. “Do you know what it’s like to go through life as a yellow? A cartoon, even? 2 dimensional? I had to escape.”
“I’m sure your father means well. Deep down.”
“What about your manifesto? How’s that going?”
“My *treatise*,” he corrects in his nasal way.
Indeed he had been working on it — hard. His sister was creating a complementary piece called “Cowabunga: Truth and Lies”. More scholarly, with proper footnotes. Bart(holomew) didn’t like footnotes; preferred a more direct approach to convey his feelings about the whole subject. His own attached treatise to the TILE Manifesto was called “Ay Carumba! I’m a Mouse!” Alysha could see right through it, having been a mouse for a while herself. Before the removal of Black. Bart didn’t really know what he was writing, although she did. And the same applied for Lisa in a lesser manner. She’d go over his newest material and make the appropriate edits after she returned from Blue Feather tonight. Very little chance that Blue Feather Douglas himself would show up again, though. Could be months, she figured. Years, even. But it was thrilling while it lasted!
(to be continued)