I just didn’t seem to fit in here with my bike and all. It was a hell of a bike, though. Got me through Gormania. Mystery Shack.
Category Archives: 0415
She should have never gone into that cave. She was out in the open, the fresh, clean air with the star studded sky spreading out above her, and then she wasn’t. A path, but not leading to clean, fresh water. Dank, dingy, green, algae congested. Atrophied. Some say her life was atrophied when she got hitched to her twin brother Toothpick/Philburt back at the end of photo-novel 22. Only the Free Tilists, with close ties to the Deep South (of Black Ice), would marry them. “Amoral,” cried to Pentagonists, worshipers of all things 5 sided and 5 pointed and originating on Mars. “Blasphemous, a slap in the face of Our Lord God of Heaven,” bemoaned the Trilogists, better known as our Christians. Only the 4-square Tilists would touch it, but only in Catalpa outside the direct influence of the city council who had ultimate judgment in these matters and could expel the couple if the ceremony was held on their grounds. Instead: All Orange, between the wine red apples of Apple’s Orchard and the slick yellow banana symbolically lying at the center of Black Ice, which all revolves around like a Beanstalk or Pope to a helmet wearing monkey (crook) with one upturned and one downturned eyebrow. It was only in All Orange where it could happen. The 5th, but in a good way this time (we hope).
Barry De Boy settled back in the rocking chair with the maple leaf pillow and felt it was good. I have acquired the power of the three now, the scissors to begin, then the paper, then, lastly, rock (in the middle). Rock solid I am. Jeffrie Phillips I am. He he he. He he he he he. Ho ho. Hu. Huh.
It was Waldrip. Or was it Waldrup. Waldrop? …drep? Anyway, I could feel his presence even if I couldn’t see him. Like a mouse.
He stopped rocking, stood up. “Who goes there?”
Investigation of Diamondfyre’s Planet X parcel coinkydinkally led me to a sim called zzz, which I assume is last in an alphabetized list of such. I sit across a small lake from a dream version of myself we’ve seen once before in this here photo-novel (22 of 20), white rabbits on her side and a bear and a red capped snowman on mine. The bear is not pissing into the lake although it may appear that way from this angle, and he will probably be pissing in it soon enough given all the beer he’s been drinking with me. I might be too if it weren’t for the female cartoon squirrel Sandy soberly staring toward us on the opposite side.
Here let’s turn the camera a bit for the next photo so you can clearly see Francis (bear) is fishing just like me, and also view the roaring waterfall marking the source of the stream that flows into the lake. Source and Lake, then, just like in that game at the temple with all the tiles, starting with The River (here).
So we sit at the beginning of TILE in effect, or the end of the beginning. We have equated this River with the Amazon, and in at least one other post, the Mighty Mississippi of our US of A. But what we are building, in toto, is obviously the Earth around The River, perhaps square shaped like the box the game Carcassonne comes in but also perhaps not. Depends on if we’re happy or unhappy maybe.
I didn’t really notice how much Sandy Chic’s head is shaped like an acorn until I photographed her remotely from behind. Good one Spongebub Squaredpants creators. And good one MAPS creators, because we have this in KY.
Squib next to Sandy Gap next to Acorn also obviously represents another Spongebub character Squibward, because the expression “damp squid” is sometimes mistakenly phrased “damp squib,” like with some in the IT profession who are smart on technology but not as sharp with words. And we already know that SS’s Spore plays an important role in photo-novel 22. In fact, there he is again at a (non-horseshoe) curve in The River representing the Amazon and/or the Mississippi (or the Nile or the Yangtze or the fill in the blank). What could he be pondering with his computer wife Karen Y.?
Of course. Plan Z!
It was pretty obvious who should come back next to NWES City. Little Robert Plant Variant. All grown up to become… Gill Alex? Vain and Artery Boy? Gold topped head dominating or directing the otherwise contrary motions of slightly shorter red and slimly taller blue within his body?
One leg must be slightly or slimly shorter than the other, then. LRPV needs to realign his center to preserve his back in his older age (59?). And here we are.
(to be continued)
“Paperville. It’s certainly an interesting concept, Hucka. And I might have met Zappa here. It’s like he just strolled by when I was walking my cow around like a Monkee. Said my music was too white, and I indicated my body, which is very white indeed. Well, cream colored. Skin colored — see there how racist I am Hucka Doobie? I think of skin as white, cream, but there’s all hues. Red, yellow, green —
“Not yet,” Hucka Doobie replied about the last. “Mabel is a forerunner.”
“But to the Pen Temple. It’s actually Penntemple.”
“So I see. Like Paperville is almost Paperville but not quite. And then there’s Pageville somehow, er, laid atop Paperville. Like, well, a transparent, um, page or something.”
“Fifty-six. Look into fifty-six.”
The Fish goes its separate way from the Head. Like seeks like.
Although the rain still pelts down, he is above the fray now.
Unlike the Bird perched down below, the Fish doesn’t revolve. Take that as you will. Just an fyi.
The bar directly below the Bird seems vacated. Is this a dying city?
It’s a rival bar to (grounded) Fish Head’s just down the alley. Did Fish Head cause the closure? Is his known confidant, the Heart Queen, also responsible?
One way to find out.
“Did you cause the closure of the Bird’s bar?”
I mean maybe.”
And you’re positive you’ve got all the prints from this place. Don’t want to contaminate a crime scene.”
“Oh, we’ve got them all right,” answered Officer Mustardgas, who had met him at Baumbeer’s building. “All in our database except one. Dr. Baumbeer, of course (West). Then this guy called Gill Alex from MISTY MO who lives over in another ‘Japanese tea house’ in Black Dragon (South). He’s on vacation with his, ahem, boyfriend Rock Ramby. Mind you, we get fingerprints from all strangers who come in town. Then Blue Berry Girl, who’s currently in Marwood (North), and who also hails from MISTY MO. Staying alone over there. We’re still researching the odd MISTY MO connection. Then, um, one other person we can’t figure out. She has red hair, is all we know. And a red cap. Face scars,” he furthered. “Perhaps effects of a botched surgery or something. We’re only guessing, mind you, from what Blue Berry Girl and Gill Alex reported to us. It would be perhaps logical if she was from MISTY MO as well, but BBG and GA insist they don’t know her. Admittedly, we’re scrambling. Glad to have you on board, Golden Jim. Especially with the chief being on vacation.”
Mental note, Golden Jim thinks. A lot of vacations going on here. Including his own. “And you say this was Baumbeer’s initial meeting to find True Center (of NWES)?”
“Witchcraft?” Golden Jim queries. “They might have been trying to evoke something which threatened to kill them all, not just Baumbeer. Took possession of the red cap girl.”
“We like to call her the red hair girl,” requested Mustardgas.
“Of course. As you wish.” Golden Jim stopped attempting to rock on the horse and stood up, walked out to the small balcony of the building. “Who’s Guy Linden?” he then asked while looking down at the “land spirit shrine.”
“So… Baumbeer was sitting in the green chair when it happened. The red haired girl sitting in the red chair just opened fire on him. Gill Alex and Blue Berry Girl in the yellow and blue chairs respectively were the witnesses.” Golden Jim had a hunch. “What if — hear me out because this is going to sound crazy — but what if Gill Alex and Blue Berry Girl — one or the other — were *also* trying to kill each other?”
After not answering again, Mustardgas walked over to the table and picked up an envelope stuffed to the gills with paper.
“Then there’s this.” Mustardgas handed the golden packet to Golden Jim. “Came in the day after the chief went to Gaston. From a local woman named Alice Farrowheart. Said she went to that new gallery in town I told you about: the Red Umbrella. Said she saw something that relates to this case in the art collages there, starting with the image of a *rabbit*.”
It makes sense, he thought later in his “cave” apartment on the other side of town while studying the information. Gazelle here equals *gazette*, as in the place where Alice Farrowheart first learned of the death. Half gazelle, actually. Half rabbit. That was the beginning.
Back to earlier in the day at Baumbeer’s place:
“And your database covers the 4 sims of NWES, representing the 4 cardinal directions.”
“That’s right,” answered the heavily mustachioed policeman. “If this was a meeting about True Center, then the person in the red chair, the final piece of the puzzle, should have been from the East: Apple’s Orchard (Applewood).
“No possibility of broadening your search to neighboring sims is it? Say, Chapala?” Golden Jim had checked. The billboard of the girl with the red cap lies just below Apple’s Orchard. Outside of NWES, that is. This is obviously where she came from; he was sure of it now. The local police couldn’t figure out what was hanging heavily right under their noses. Soon they’d gotten a name. Lu Ellen. Lu Ellen Hutchinson.