Category Archives: 0413

Paperville

Sun bathed Poetry, hovering on her more inaccessible balcony, stares over at the town clock, trying to get her bearings. 12:30, no 1:30, no 2. Is this another 5/4ths time keeper? She decides to give it up and go inside to ask lover Barry X. Vampire, since brother Peter Oesso isn’t available right now. Neither would probably lie to her, but Peter was the best bet. For now. Family is forever.

—–

“Barry, is this a sim or a planet?” she starts, trying to figure out the time flying thing. Soo frustrating this place is, arrrgh! She longs for center (sim) again.

Barry, seeing lover Poetry Dancer getting ugly, tells her to go ask Peter. “Just down the stairs outside at the small cafe,” he directs while holding his stuffed stomach full of bread and butter. No use in compounding the mood.

“Thanks,” she barks while angrily striding toward the door. *SLAM* “For nothing,” she then mutters just outside. She takes a deep breath. Calm again. Callmm. She is beautiful once more.

—–

“You can’t see the clock from that balcony,” Peter replies truthfully while continuing to read the town paper at his new table away from the former, umbrella themed one with the perpetual, unreadable music score laying upon it. “Impossible — it’s completely sideways to you there. Might as well be a clock yourself, heh.”

While reviewing the truth of his statement in her mind, Poetry suddenly remembers she has a sister. A brother and a sister. She tells this to Peter.

“Sidereal?” he exclaims, forgetting about the paper, the city as a whole. “What kind of name is *Sidereal?*”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0413, Abbey^^, Corsica^^, Stranger Creek

brother deaths

She wanted a listening experience that would knock her socks off; blow her brains out.

She eventually chose “Lions Tigers Bears,” by Dorothy and the Cowardly Woodsmen, a tin plated golden hit back in the early to mid 70s.

She listened closely for the sound of a munchkin hanging itself in the middle of track 5.

—–

In more serious Storybrook news, a dead body was found in the wee woods behind the laundromat, explaining why the chicken didn’t cross the road that day.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0413, Corsica^^, Storybrook

good day sunshine

“We *dance* the celebration of life, of victory,” interpreting Audrey [delete last name] declared to lover and fellow dancer Jeffrie Phillips spinning around the same, fire centered circle.  “Urqhart has, amazingly, been *fulfilled*. The past can be revealed. Behold!”

Within the fire, a vision appeared about the valley below to Jeffrie. A sim sized lake — or pond — or *both*, filling up that central sink we’ve been mentioning lately, straddling the sims of Urqhart here, then Ensleigh to the west then Malhaven to its north and finally Yia Yuto to complete the (fire centered) circle. Indian Lake, he realized. But also Sox Pond. 1919, the year Big Black Smoke descended upon it and wrought its damage.  An important — very important — link between Virtual and Reality in this here blog. Pennsylvania (state) and Corsica Prime (continent). Corsica is an elephant.

“Will Marty be joining us?” queried Jeffrie Phillips, building up quite a sweat trying to keep pace with jumping, jiggling Audrey.

Marty joined them. “I’m happy too!” he proclaimed, starting to dance up a storm with the others. Employee Arthur Kill then appeared behind him, just glaring around. Get this love peace crazy shit out of here, he wanted to say, but bit his tongue because of a paycheck coming up. A big one. Big Black Smoke one.

They danced until the sun came up and then a little more.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0413, Corsica^^, Urqhart

87 01

“It’s time to take one of you observing 88’s to the room to see what went missing. Maybe both of you. Yeah: both.”

—–

“First, a little wine before we start. Sorry you can’t have any, guys.” (sip)

“Guys? Can you hear me?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0413, 100 Story Building, Blue Feather Sea^, Kowloon

bluef

Blue Feather is close, that’s for sure.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0413, Hills of Bill^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, West Virginia

THIS SIM 01

There is no chance in this world, Marcus Fox Smartville thought wisely. That *could* be the girl of my dreams, the one to deserve the primmy rose.

She was waiting for my hug and I came. Let me take a closer look.

Eeh. Nose piercings! And that tongue! Not for me, sorry.

—–

Oh dear. The boyfriend. And my boat’s been derezzed. Challenge! Better amscray. Goodbye THIS SIM. Forever.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0413, Hills of Bill^, Maebaleia/Satori^^

other side

“Mary!” Wait till I tell Baker Bloch about *this*. Long lost Mary!

“Hi Wheeler! Welcome to my new, schweet life.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0413, Lower Austra, Nautilus^^

shape pullers

She’d finished the 3oth and last of Johann Sebastian Bach’s “Goldberg Variations” and waited for accolades that never came. This time was different.

“Your daughter plays superbly, King Tully.”

The king acted surprised, then: “Tull please. The spirits flaunt their wears at 12 midnight. You must stay up for it. Every night it happens without fail. Music as well. The spirits sometimes say it’s for a Benefit, sometimes they’re just Living in the Past, they decree, sometimes for a forgotten War Child, and then, most mysteriously of all, for the Passion Play. The play of life itself. Daughter Merry Gouldbusk is fair. But the spirits play a superb and haunting tale weaving in and out of itself.

“The daughter is good too,” Monsieur Gold reinforces, knowing the difficulty of the pieces just performed. Merry Gouldbusk beams inside — a little ray of sunshine enters her cold, metallic life. I will marry this man, she states inwardly. I will show father what he can do with his Jimmy Fisks of the world.

“Let me show you something, Monsieur Gold,” the king then commands while rising. “The mystery of my name.” He turns to his daughter, who awaits orders. He bows his head toward her. “You can come with us.”

God I hate that man, she thinks for the millionth time.

—–

“Are these the… spirits?”

“No. I’m afraid not.” King Tully’s voice betrayed disdain. In fact, one could tell from only a short time that the king held contempt for everyone and everything around him. Except the “Great Queen”, as he always addressed her. Always the full name Merry Gouldbusk for the daughter, though. “This is the perpetual choir, currently on shutdown.”

Herbert Gold stared at each frozen character in turn. “So… it’s not a perpetual choir. Since they’re not singing currently. To be perpetual…”

“They sing within,” interrupts King Tully. “There is no difference in the play of life between inward and outward. It’s all golden appearances and then golden opinions and values. Everything counts equally if you’re gold. Isn’t that right Merry Gouldbusk?”

“Yes,” the trailing daughter dutifully utters without thinking of her father’s nonsensical speech too much, a long honed practice.

“And… the name?” Herbert Gold was becoming impatient with the king perpetually sitting on his high horse.

“Name?” King Tully returns coldly.

“You said you had something to show *us*” — he indicates both himself and the trailing Merry Gouldbusk here — “about your name. A mystery I think you put it.”

“Oh, that will come with the spirits. Look for the shapes in the air. Golden in hue, of course.”

“Some silver,” his daughter interjects, then quickly regrets it. He turns toward her. One could say he glowers at her, but a glower without emotion, if that makes sense. Emotionless rage?

About 20 seconds pass. Herbert Gold wonders if the king will smite his fair daughter, something he *definitely* doesn’t want to witness. But he simply bows (again) and turns back to Mssr. Gold. “Gold,” he reinforces. “With *some* silver.”

Merry Gouldbusk declares another small victory today.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0413, Rosehaven^^

planes and planets

—–

It took a month, but Baker Bloch was finally granted access to the higher planes of Clemscott by holiday entities Santa God, Halloween Jack, and Melvin. The latter asked if he could tag along, feeling Baker’s mission to find the great 3-n-1 in the physical realm was not as futile and meaningless as the other two.

“I met my wife Suzanna54320 here,” Melvin declared, referring to the plane they were then exploring, one up from his holiday castle realm and with a base level at 750 meters above the Linden’s absolute zero (for the record, there are no negative elevations that I know of in Our Second Lyfe; no Death Valley type scenarios, in other words). “We had a stare down, as you term it. Neither of us could believe the other was present. No one came to this plane — still don’t. We received mutual sex gratification in the spider’s cave that very night. The proximate fish promised to pivot their heads, but I couldn’t help notice Wanda, the largest and highest, sneaking peeks during the action. I don’t believe it was a, how you call it, *pervy* thing, though, since fish don’t perceive our species in a sexual manner, and visa versa of course. I think she was just curious how it all worked with us mechanoids. You see…”

Baker Bloch politely stopped him here, not wanting to hear some of the rather uncomfortable details about robot sex again. He had already suffered through the, er, ins and outs of several other such “actions” up to this point concerning his wife and also other robot women he had met before and even after his marriage. Baker instead steered the conversation toward Fourth of Juli celebrations coming up in less than half a year. Melvin was already preparing. This bridged the time it took for them to reach this Spider Cave.

Wanda was still there, flying high and mighty. Melvin avoided eye contact…

… and instead conferred with non-flying (“ordinary”) fish Skippy and Mr. Howe in the pool below on the possible whereabouts of the great 3-n-1. “Inside,” they burbled brightly, if a little out of rhythm with each other. Baker Bloch could feel Wanda’s eyes staring heavily toward them. Weighty like a planet; no wonder Melvin noticed the peeking that night(!).

Music began, a strange, somewhat jazzy piano tune. Haltingly subdued. Coming from the cave.

—–

“Melvin?” Baker Bloch called back over the now louder music upon reaching the impasse within. “Did you guys happen to use a bed while you were in here?”

“Melvin?”

—–

“Another one, Mary. This time with the primary.”

“Dear Lord!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0413, Clemscott^, Gaeta V^^, Hana Lei^^, Kerchal, Sansara^^

group photo 02

“Lambs,” states Paul. “As far as you could see.” He reconsiders. “Well, that’s an exaggeration. How many would you say there was, Mary?”

“20, 25. Then whittled down to 16, then 8, then 4, then 2, then only one. My precious Little One.”

“Little One yeah,” Paul says, thinking back. “That was before the VHC City days.”

“Yes,” Mary answers with a lump now in her throat.

“VHC City?” Peter questions.

“Oh let’s not go back to that right now. Let’s stick to the far past. See, Peter, this is why we should rename our group The Lambs.”

“Or Lamb,” Paul adds.

“That way dazed and confused fans won’t be calling out for that dreaded ‘Huff the Magic Dragon'”.

“Huff, Puff, whatever,” chimes in Paul.

Peter taps his cane on Grassland’s barren ground, producing a hollow sound. If it wasn’t tinted green it might as well be a sandy dune. “And the darters did all this?” he asks. Tacit agreement through silence here. Mary keeps holding back a big cry.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0413, Heterocera^^, Lapara^