Category Archives: 0503

persisting (lime green teddy)

If there’s anything to this *line* she must start here, she feels. A woman named Constantyne, memorialized in the sim of Constance. Too close to be accidental, she understands (the only other Constan/ sim is Constantine, etc.). This is ground 00 — ‘nother one.

But what was this place, actually? She and her ice cream eyes longed to explore further.

—–

She found something. A man standing on the beach, as if looking for someone. For me, she thinks? She zooms in. A black man, tall, maybe 6′ 5″ or so. A guess, but she’s good at such. A man, yes, named Hill, Ruby’s psychic senses tell her beyond the ice cream eyes and lips and everything else. Hawaiian style swimming trucks. Odd goggles — lighted. The man wants to dance but can’t. Someone is stopping him from doing so. His partner cannot arrive without the balls, red and blue. But, she also senses, *both* balls are blue, one upright and one reversed. Sex, male and female. A decision must be made.

This man, wishes to be a father.

The man can grow 3 inches any time he wants to and become 6′ 8″, another Hill. Two Hills in one, then. But it means giving up the product.

The man is both blue and yellow. Think that’s it. Better get back and report.

—–

“My boys!” Mike exclaimed back in Annaberg in the sim of Newt, sitting around his mica table again, yet another ground 00 but perhaps the first. “Poison!” he shrilled. “Poison!” his mate Pat duplicated beside him. They thought this part of their story was done and over with and that they could freely and easily move to the center of Lemon Free State, good over here and bad over there, just a small fraction of its former power. Almost nonexistent. But, turns out, it may last above all the rest.

“No, don’t worry on that front,” explained Ruby to the excited couple. “He didn’t have the product. I looked all around. No lemon, no lime.”

Fruit headed Mike and Pat, being who they are, became very confused with this. Eventually they just disappeared in front of her. She had a new boss to report to. Al.

“My name is Al,” he started, “but you can just call me X. I am the founder of a new religion. Died not by the cross but the desert. Did I say that right this time? Yes. Desert. Died.”

—–

“Hello,” it said between two Tiki totems, making him turn. Ruby was wrong.

(to be continued)

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Cheeks

“If you are red you rise up to meet blue in pink. If you are blue you rise up to meet red in pink. Peaks are where things do a flippy floppy. And in this case one is larger and one is smaller. Crazy Blue.”

“I’m going to wear my Crazy Blue outfit for the rest of this photo-novel, Baker. Just for a meditative device.”

“Then we won’t be seeing much of you beyond these points.”

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00360503: the birth of Santman

“Now this is what’s so fascinating to me,” spoke Baker Bloch, taking over his father’s talk show business. Just until he mends from that broken hip. Should be off the crutches in another day or 3. “So let’s review: you moved from behind the camera to in front because Ricky Cargo got shot in the head with a real bunch of lead — no death here!” he shouts toward the audience, which got a roar. “And so you played in ‘I Love Lucifer’, for 6 years as the male lead — didn’t say lead!” More laughs. “Then you quit that show after they moved the location from the city to the country (Sandman nods here with a soft “um hum”), then you decided to get that age operation to better exploit your chances in the then lucrative child acting business.”

“More money, uh huh. After you subtract all the cost of living stuff, the houses, the pools and cars and, let’s see, women I suppose. Women of the night.” He laughs a bit here and the audience too. They’re still with him. They’ve bought into this whole story. Baker Bloch almost has as much talent in the build up as his father. But still he hopes he gets well soon and returns.

“Let’s see, the next job is then little Richie Pettry in the ‘Dick van Duck Comedy Special’. Aired on CBS for 3 years.”

“Four. Counting the Christmas season. Ran for 6 episodes actually.”

“And I believe that’s the first Christmas season in television history.”

“Television *comedy* history. There was always Bing Cosby.”

“Right, forgot,” exclaims Baker Bloch. “But that started the whole Santa thing. Tell me about that — I know we’re getting off-topic again but the story is fascinating. We’ll return to the child acting soon.”

“Well, that was part of it. At Christmas a child needs, what? A Santa. To sit on his lap, tell him what he or she wants for Christmas.” He gestures placing an imaginary child on his knee during this.

“We all know that *now*. But back then — brand new! You invented the holidays, Sandman. Have you ever thought about that?”

“Well… I can’t take credit for St. Patrick.” Laughs from the audience. He stares out at them lovingly, knows they’ve footed the bills for his many yachts and mansions down through the years.

“Okay,” says Bloch. “Let me cut to the chase — Tommy’s telling me we need to go to a commercial break.”

“I sat on his lap,” says Sandman, getting the core of it. “I… told him… I wanted a duck for Christmas.” Chuckles from the audience, most of them not even paid studio laughers by this point. “I wanted to *be* a Duck (dramatic pause). So he ate me.” Stares even wider eyed at the audience, who have lost it. Everyone knows the story. It made broadcast history.

(to be continued)

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or

She stares with tiger eyes over at the fern adorning the stone waterfall.

What am I doing here? she thinks. Has ditzy blonde Lichen outwitted me after all in an elaborate ruse?

https://recapretro.blogspot.com/2016/05/i-dream-of-jeannie-03×02-jeannie-or.html

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0503, Gemini, Hana Lei^^

who’s that lady in purple

She finds herself staring through a window on Long Island, needing more clothes. She decides to assimilate (again). Wilson’s, she ponders the title of the shop while studying the inventory within. We’ll just shift that over one to Wheeler, let the women have the upper hand, although both sexes will be served once more.

—–

Better. And no Alpha needed this time. These were old fashion, BOM based outfits. She crosses her legs and waits for more plot to happen. She’s ready now.

“I’m still going to shorten my legs,” she says, studying her toes too far from her face, story renewed.

“As you wish,” spoke Newt, knowing the moment would pass. It always does.

He folds the paper over, puts it in his lap. “Wheeler”, he says, staring forward.

“Yes?”

“No, I mean the shop.”

“Yes, once more.” Her shop now. And she has a special purple one for Newt later. Ah heck, how about now. The legs can wait.

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Land o’ TILE (telescope)

“I rest my fingers lightly against the bird house while peering inside.

“A red appears, with blue and yellow in background.

“Earlier I had posed on green.

“And that’s my report for today, Baker Bloch. Can I go now? Borneo awaits.”

“Sure.”

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00320503


“It sits on grass — solid ground — instead of floor. There is a rainbow sphere like a giant illuminated marble in the middle, surrounding by frozen swarming tentacles. Rest vs. work, yin vs. yang.”

“Man About Time?” I speculated, knowing he waved at this thing like he did to himself before. Continuation.

“That and more,” agreed the other, yet to be determined. Maybe Wheeler with her green and blue asymmetrical eyes. Miss Ouri perhaps if they are matching instead. Feminine anyway. Female.

We should also determine if we are dreaming or awake. Could be difficult.

MORE SOON.

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sameness

“4 *more* friends, MAT,” she says from her position of power. “What do you recall? What is dealt in the cards tonight?”

MAT studies the playing cards in front of him He sees a heart, he sees a spade. He sees a diamond and a club. He sees All Cards. He knows he is safe.

Actually he sees this…

“Tell me what are in the cards,” she requests again, hoping to keep him focused for at least 5 seconds, pheh.

—–

She said she had to run and turned him over to what she called the 2nd Moss, one with blonde hair instead of black.

They found themselves at an emerald green table (which brought out her eyes), away from the others. 1st Moss decided 2nd Moss might have better luck, and, besides, she needed to get back to her equations. Blonde Moss sipped her wine, watching Man About Time roll his neck round and round, trying to stretch it out. “You’re tired of typing tonight,” she gathered. The light in her eyes was equal to the first. They were one.

“Hold on a little longer,” she requested, understanding what needed to be done. Besides, The Comedy Club called.

—–

“Moss 03” arrived. Perfect!

Balance round the center. Alysha and Man About Time’s 1st date. His *Valentine*.

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preservation

He decided to test this reality. He pulled out some wadded up and hardened little pieces of paper from his pocket and dropped it into Keith B.’s hand, saying they were for the virus. “Thanks!” the older man from his childhood said, saving them for later that night when the headaches started. Oh the power of suggestion, Biff marveled, and returned to his book. He was at the end of Paper. He turned the page…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0503, Paper, Paper Soap, Pennsylvania

Turkey Day for most

After dinner they all gathered around the boob tube to watch Greyscale Kimball give her annual Thanksgiving speech about the state of the South. “It is good,” she exclaims while the snow clears from the picture. “It is strong,” she follows. “The Heart Queen and I continually work together to make things better for all of us, including the conquered if not the vanquished.”

“I wish she wouldn’t talk like that about the North,” Lisa opines from her middle position. “Everyone knows it comes back to bite them in the ass now.”

“Lii-sa,” Bartholomew complains about what he considers a cussword in the house. But he looks around and sees no parents in the room and realizes all is okay. It’s just the kids. The parents are upstairs — doing another annual tradition while the children watch TV. Bart forgot that fact. He tries to block out the faint noise of bedsprings, which he thought was the small twittering of a bird outside before. Now he can’t get it out of his head. He moves toward the TV. “Don’t mind if I turn it up, I suppose.” Points to his ears. “Can’t hear.”

“It’s these old Sylvanias,” says Rose Wells the neighbor who they often pretend is their sister or at least sister-in-law, big for her age of 12. She’s already studying boxes, wondering what’s in the far corners of space while chewing choco chip cookies late at night on top of her house. She intuitively understands the cube, if not tangibly yet. Models would come first. Then reality. “Greyscale forbids the sale of colored TVs beyond the Line of Demarcation,” she finishes.

“The old battle line,” chips in Bart, hip to the 3 1/2 day North-South War from sex history class. Taming the elephants from the Shallows (Flats to the Northerners) was the turning point, he recalls. Just bulled right through the lines after that. He tries to focus back in on the speech…

“… Sinkology has proven, once and for all, that the Pipersville bomb was never set off. The South has nothing –”

“Hey, Rose,” he says to his faux sister beyond Lisa, having heard all this before a hundred times and getting bored.

“Shh,” she says back, still interested.

“– no one was hurt, no one was even injured. The bomb–”

“Hey. Rose,” Bart insisted. “I saw you up on the roof the other night. What are you studying? Stars?”

“– the inevitability of colored TVs to corrupt…”

“Space itself,” she decided to answer, turning away for the moment. “I’m making–”

“– and the corruption spread from town to town, region to re–”

“… a model.”

“Oh?” Bart was interested.

“Will you 2 please pipe down,” said Lisa between them. “Do you want to switch places with me, Bartholomew, so you can talk to your *real* sister?”

“Pheh, ain’t nobody claiming we aren’t yellow.” “Bird twitterings” upstairs again. Greyscale was wrapping it up.

“And so, the Queen and I bid you farewell until next year when, special surprise, the *King* will be joining us.”

All stare at the black and white TV with open mouths. Snow comes in again, hiding the exit ceremonies. Static fills the air, just in the nick of time. Mom and dad upstairs had just reached the end as well.

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