How Ruby Roo got those spirals on her leg.
Category Archives: 04
wood (another jumper)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0408, Jeogeot, New Island, Omega, The Cross, Wallytown/Fishers Island
put some quotes around it, move on
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 SL, 0038, 0407, Jeogeot, Newtown+
Annaberg Annabell
He barely looked up from the paper to acknowledge her presence. Artung with him ignored her completely, pretending to be absorbed in his own words. He was instead thinking. Back in the day this girl was *poison*. Yet she stood her ground before them defiantly, daring them to speak or act in some way. Jimmy Dieselengine finally rattled his paper loudly, which we know now is a sign of agitation and/or disapproval, and then rolled his eyes upward over the top, cooly meeting hers. “If we have to speak let’s do it in the cemetery where no one else can see us. 3:19 this afternoon.” And then he was back to reading, or at least pretend reading. Because he too was spacing out about the past now. The dancing. The playing of cards. Or so they heard.
—–
She had to pay 250 just to get him to sit down with her. He knew she had lots of cash because of the wall between the states. The tree beings she allied herself with back in the former era horded away beaucoup green within their narrow, dark confines, ready to burst forth at the Freeing Day, as they called it, and spend it hither and thither on overpriced trinkets and baubles, the opposition said of the impulse. The same considered her one of those trinkets or baubles, depending on what faction you asked. She was capitalism embodied, em*boldened*.
—–
She was a weed to be removed, she remembered a senior councilmember saying about her as she stared down at one of her kind, according to them, growing from a crack in the pavement. The meeting with Dieselengine was over. Someone was approaching with a ho. Better amscray before I am recognized again, she thought, and moved back into the shadows of the place.
—-
“The Monolith,” he summarized earlier at the bench in the far part of the cemetery, giving her what she wanted, what she could handle. The cold breath kept flowing out of her body like an expulsion of good from evil. “They had to push you out,” he said, watching it.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0406, Jeogeot, Newtown+
00380405
Hmm, no answer, she thinks. But *someone’s* gotta feed all these animals. She tries again (knock knock knock).
No luck once more. Annabell seemed not to be at this residence any longer. Her old shop next door is empty and being repainted and remodeled in general. What gives? What happened to her only friend in town, its namesake, some say? One of the few that were understanding to her and her beau back in the day.
Yes, she could ask the workers; she hadn’t thought of that for some reason. Would they even put down their paint brushes and rollers and tools long enough to talk to her? One way to find out.
The first to be spoken to was shocked to find her back in town. Because of the recognition there was no way in hell he was going to give her any useful information. Whore of Babylon, he thought rightly. Or wrongly.
“Excuse me, sir?” Nothing. Word had quickly gotten around. Too quickly. Must be the work of a local chapter of The Gossipers.
The ones outside pretended to be involved in their blueprints and drilling their holes, but obviously blanking her too.
Well screw the whole lot of ’em, she thought. I’ll go talk to the horse’s mouth. Jimmy. She eyes the cafe across the way where he’s now sitting with his pal Artung, his stint as babysitter to little Pete over, father Cory returned from the bank (see, it *is* all falling into place!).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0405, Jeogeot, Newtown+
scenes
Some call them Clear Lake and Black Lake, although the 1st wasn’t quite clear and the 2nd wasn’t quite black. Separated by only a small dam, they were closer in color than many wanted to admit. And it is here our Annaberg story must continue, kind of a new development since my first visit to the place back in late ’21, just after I learned I could retire the following March. Which, I suppose, sort of makes *my* story the same as Jimmy Dieselengine, formerly of Ossemotor, keeper, at least for the morning, of grandson Pete Pistle, who may be the same as Pete Piper from other places. His African mansion was raized because of his political beliefs. Here:
square of misery
—–
It was 3:18 in the afternoon when he walked into the bank and took out 499,000, a whole Reno’s worth of money as they say in Sunklands speak. Cory Piper, father to Pete (perhaps), still looking for his maw, still banking on the state of affairs to improve and that the wall between Nevada and California would finally be ripped down. Fat chance, I say. Will free the tree people inside for one thing, who some, perhaps many, fear as green monsters. The ones who don’t want east and west merged will block it, I predict. Wally will live.
—-
10 months later and just below, a dog named Spider floats into the Cavern bar from the sky and orders 24 drinks, all with the same 4 numbers just rearranged a bit. All the bits, in fact — every possible permutation. Current bartender Edwin doesn’t know how to handle it and goes overload, which brings a small manager named Bach from the back for aid and assistance. Veiled, mysterious Alessandra looks on very interested, pretending not to be somebody else. But Bach notices before turning his back on the resolved bar situation and going back inside again. Whores of Babylon, he thinks, seeing a bit of black projecting from the white gown’s back, just enough to be tell-tale. What is *she* doing black, I mean, back?
the future is *now*
Grant! she calls, jumping up and down on the grapes (?), pulverizing them. Grant!!!
They heard the yelps all the way over at the Annaberg central plaza. “Decatur Lively” reader Jimmy Dieselengine tried to ignore them so as not to alarm the youth with him, his charge for the day, or at least the morning. If only morning would be quiet around here like it use to be, he lamented in his older age, closing in on 64. Retired over a year back and loving it. More time with the grandkids. Like Pete here. Peter Pistle. But that girl, that *witch*, needs to *shut* the *f-* *up*. He rattles the paper to release his irritation, clears his throat. She’s done finally, he thinks, hearing the end of it, fruit kaput.
She produces purple stained feet to prove where she’d been, what she’d been doing. The same colored glass of wine sat at their tip, ready for consumption. Different dimension; didn’t work. He knew there hadn’t been a proper vineyard in town for a number of months, just some leftover, stray vines surviving here and there, not enough to mask the issue. Rose/Eyela/Leila was accomplishing something else. Like raspberry, something the townspeople wouldn’t swallow.
Mike requested she put the feet away and face the consequences, which had actually already happened. Banishment. Burial even. Like Paul and Ringo and especially John before her. Only the wine was left to prove she ever existed at all.
“Buh bye,” he whispered. “Buh bye now.” And threw it into the earth as well.
mistletoe doorway (heater presents again (6578 (Xmas mugs)))
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynching_of_Bernice_Raspberry
Bernice Raspberry, also called Ed Lively, was a 23-year old African-American man who was murdered in Leakesville, Mississippi, on May 25, 1927.[1] Raspberry was arrested for an infraction in Leakesville, but then the sheriff was told he was wanted in nearby Bothwell for “alleged improper conduct with a white woman”. Raspberry was taken to Bothwell but then taken back to Leakesville, for safe keeping. A group of some 100 masked man took him from the jail, strung him to a tree, and shot him many times.[2]
https://bakerbloch.wordpress.com/2021/12/29/00300701/
“You!!??” they cried even louder, seeing before them now the white woman associated with raspberries who loves black. “What *is* this??!!” they demanded.
—-
Returning to the scene of the crime:
“Blue and yellow are overrated, Arthur. Red and green have redeeming qualities too, despite not being quite as perfect together.”
“Like us!” Arthur Kill emitted with this, and leaned over to take a drink.
“Which one is darker, which one is lighter?” said Shelley, also partaking of her own drink. “6 and 7. Very close indeed.”
“Soo… this is about TILE?”
“No, silly. It’s about a *kiss*.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0402, Jeogeot, Mississippi, Newtown+
00370416 (party 16)
Then Sandman made his pitch, which meant Shelley made the pitch for him, still writing, still scribbling down ideas to be written out properly later. “I have a whole sim out there, down there, up, over.”
“Oh yeahh?” she decided to say. “Tell me about it. Can I come?”
“Precisely what I was going to say.”
“Through me,” she said. “Pitch it.” She closed her eyes to the pitch black sky and listened. The noise of the party died away. Edward’s game of life was over. The 6th turned out to be false, unlike the first 5. It wasn’t all about him. Butterscotch, he loved butterscotch. Didn’t hate it.
So he brought out the red and green box, showed it was empty, and then brought out the somewhat smaller, lavender box that use to reside inside it and also demonstrated its emptiness by–. “What it needs, Shelley–” he said, laying it down between them now.
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess.”
Sandman turned away from the rail, dared to look in her eyes again now that they were closed. Put a lid on it, he thought. Close it up. She opened her eye. He stared into infinity.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0416, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Wild West
00370415 (party 15)
“One of my biggest regrets is that I didn’t kill the whale myself and then lay it out in the central mall for all to see. And *smell*.”
“Good one, Edward,” spoke Penny approvingly, marking it down in her head. Edward is *vicious*. Probably a tiger in bed as well. She imagines taking her clothes off and laying beside him. And certainly not for the first time.
—–
“I hate to interrupt, Shelley, but are we inside the novel now or still talking about reality?”
“Both,” said Shelley to Sandman standing beside her, both somehow listening in despite the distance, despite the noise of the party elsewhere. “Don’t you remember?”
—–
“That’s the first, Edward. 5 to go. Pick a category, either proud of or not proud of. Or regrets.”
“But we have to guess *this* one first, adopted sister of mine.”
“Yes,” said Sandy to Penny. “Of course. Wellll… I vote yes.”
“Yes it’s true?” Penny, always the clarifier.
“Yes.” They both turn to Edward.
“Truth,” he said, getting a laugh from everyone. How vicious! they all think. The rest of the girls started to swoon that hadn’t already and the rest of the boys that already weren’t scared got so. What would he do to *us* if we crossed him? Some of them had already seen what he did with Sandman down at the rear docks. Sent his tail running back home!
—–
“One thing I want to clarify here if I may. I’m *only* 2 years older than Edward — Eddie — mid 30s as opposed to his early ones. The ‘old man’ appellation doesn’t really apply.”
“Do the *girls* know this? You have a streak of gray in your hair after all,” said Shelley, defending the names in her novel that are the same in her life right now. She’s acting through them all.
—–
“2nd, then, Eddie — can I call you Eddie?” Edward thought for a second. No he decided, but then changed his mind looking at the disappointment on Penny’s face. “Tell you what: you, Penny, can call me Eddie but Sandy has to keep calling me Edward. How ’bout that?”
—-
“How ’bout that, Sandman?” asked Shelley still standing beside him on the porch near but not next to terrace #2 where the others were. Noise all around, as stated. Pitch black the sky was even though it was clear. Looking into her altered eyes at this right angle in the night light, Sandman could only nod.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0415, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Wild West
Sunklands 