Frank Lynn liked to read while on the toilet and had quite the collection of magazines laying about the castle’s only bathroom. But in putting down a copy of “Xxxmas Belles” picked for the season and taking a look around, he realizes he needs to clean up all this before Daisy comes up for a visit, which he guesses will be real soon. 1st date already done: ice cone parlor in Juho, then hanging down at the beach by the upper end of the Nawt Vaya Sea. Some smooching occurred, to his delight, but not too heavy, since this was a public place and all. And, yes, he found out that she had a black mama. Not a New Ager like his own, into all sorts of aroma therapy and aura cleansing and shite. She wasn’t raised a granola child like him, which he kind of rebelled against when he got into his teens. But still — the same color. And something was going on with her father but she avoided further questions about that after it was vaguely brought up — peculiar. Oh well, hopefully I’ll find out more soon enough, he thinks while pulling out his phone from his lowered pants. Maybe I should give her a call now that I have her number, set up that 2nd date while I’ve worked up the courage. Goodbye Miss Mistletoe 2025, he said in his mind, taking one last gander at the centerfold spread out on his lap with the waiting lips. Hello a different, more real and attainable kind of those. Dialing…. *now*.
Category Archives: 0505
00480505 (Franks combined (666 coverup))
00460505 (Siri + Gerald Too)
“You and Merry. Never expected it to be honest.”
“Life’s full of surprises.”
“So how did the two of you–”
“End up together?” Gerald finished Siri’s question. “Hmm, with Jennifer it was fight after fight, lots of arguments, drama… not saying it was bad, but…”
“But what?”
“Got to be exhausting. With Merry, it’s not. I finally feel… harmony. A calm. Feel like things are the way they’re suppose to be.”
—–
“Show me what you found,” she said without turning away from the ball holding, 4 armed, magenta and amber tinted statue.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0046, 0505, C2077, Small China, Witcher
00450505
“You are like Jesus in that you can walk across the water to get to your Dry Spot, your place of safety. Go ahead. In your own time.”
Philip goes for it. Yes, he can walk across water. He is a God in this place. He can even control the weather, which will come next. But first the Dry Spot, that Dry Rock in the Dry Spot. Here he can rest, he knows. He decides an hour would be good. Hour Rock becomes a secondary name. Hour Spot.
Fern leaves him alone for a bit in his special place, knowing silence is good. Rest from guidance too.
He’s walked across the water. He’s almost there. Just over there it is.
Ahh. There. He settles in. The rock acts like a natural chair for him. He is comfortable. He is one with this world that mirrors our own in dimension if not quite realism. Not yet. People are coming, he knows. Cars, horses, animals, *windmills* already here. He just has to find the Data Hall in those dreams to learn where all of them went, all his favorite humans. Like Fink, like Susan.
—–
58, 59, *60*. Now for Wet (Rock).
Suddenly he was in the clouds, making it happen.
Poo-wer!
00440505 (the end of AISLE 01?)
I check to see when the next due date is on my Aisle of Palms rent. 1 week away. Decision time (again).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0505, Big Woods, Jeogeot
00420505 (The defeat of Gray Man?)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0505, Bright Moon Cottage, Happy Town, LSD, Violence District
stripes
“Yeah, this doesn’t seem to be scrubbing off, Michelle.”
“Don’t call me that, Murderer. Call me Officer Roundup.”
“Sure. But, um…”
“Option 02, I get it. Let’s go back to the station and pick up some white paint and some brushes.” But then, staring at the back of her heavily tattooed prisoner, Policeperson Michelle Roundup had an idea.
“John,” she said, making him pause. She’d always called him by one of his many crimes before, Murderer if pretty to really upset down to Burglar if only mildly so or not atall. Never the actual name. Before this; what did she want? “John,” she repeated, trying to phrase it in the proper way. “Erm, have you seen a tattoo like this by chance? A full body one? One that wraps around the whole body front to back I mean? Another treasure map is what I’m saying.”
Oh Jeez, he thinks here. She knows about them! What will he do?? How will he answer?? “You, um, mean on another person’s body.”
“Yeah. That’ll do.”
“Then: no.” Relief! He didn’t have to bring up the curse attached to the design.
“How about in general?” Michelle Roundup intuitively followed up. “Like a drawing of such a body? Or a painting? Oh — photo,” she then realized. “Have you seen it in a photo or a series of photos?”
Drat! Now he’ll have to actually lie. Certainly he can’t admit to stealing Officer Roundup’s camera behind her back. Burglar becomes the worst nickname in that case!
“Iiii…”
In the hesitation, she sensed something else, something new. The camera! Missing for a couple of hours yesterday. She thought she just misplaced. But, upon thinking about it, it was there on her desk, then next minute: not. Then *placed* in almost the exact same place a bit later in the afternoon. He knows about the treasure, he knows about the X! The inability to scrub this one off was a sign, a portent.
—-
She acted really smart. She didn’t accuse him of the theft to his face. After all, he was already in custody for several other, more henious crimes. He can’t go anywhere.
There were a couple of possibilities in play, she thought as they walked back to pick up the paint and brushes to finish the job. First, he’s just a desperate perv wanting to look at some pictures of a naked girl. Two, he was gathering information about, I don’t know, the location of an *actual* treasure. Three: maybe he just stole the camera to take pictures himself and then saw the photos already on it. But indeed he knows about them. People just don’t turn that red for no reason. What’s black and white and red all over has a new answer beyond newspaper and embarrassed zebra. Actually I guess the latter still applies, she finished her joke.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0505, Big Woods, Jeogeot
00390505
“Are we going to go ahead and sacrifice Willy Wonka, this *new* clown?” knife welding Preacher Stefan cried in the church immediately bordering the joker’s property, channeling the anger of Constantynople’s townspeople as a whole. Their buildings, their homes, had been called *junk*! Outrage spread through the village. Thus this meeting in the church they all loved. At least he didn’t pick on *this* particular low lying building, the most sacred in all the I’s land: St. Merry’s. “*I* want to speak,” said Pitch from the front, who was, after all, their default leader, the me closer to me than all the rest, being the same as Baker Bloch in essence. “Go ahead, dear,” urged wife Mary by his side. Always. Preacher Stefan acted fast before the townspeople were persuaded otherwise with a stab and accompanying spurt — right on Pitch’s just washed suit, blood splattered again so soon. Pitch looked down.
“Aww *damn*!”
“*Honey*. Not in *church*.” Laughter all around; bloodlust satisfied. Pitch had no pitch here.
“We’ll work on getting it out later,” she added toward the end, wiping up all they could in the moment.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0505, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File
























