Category Archives: 0505

Scroop’s closest one-to-one name match in the Oracle is Scrougeout

Spider guides. Wheeler’s new fashion design business highlighted by “accident” (foreground) on my big Nautilus map in the sky. Nearby Strutter sim’s steampunk village Rugburns with the cat-witch and her own tuxedo cat (“Pheh! Tuxedo?” she uttered disgustingly when learning she couldn’t get a solid black one) is gone now, disappeared back into the pixels it came from.

Strutter’s closest one-to-one name match in the Oracle is Struthers, reminding us of Shelley and her Lebettu Castle where I just came from, me being Newt, formerly Axis-Windmill and with last name yet to be determined. Perhaps it is Newton. Heck perhaps it is Struthers, and Shelley is my child, hmm. *Our* child?

Anyway, Spider is back and I’m glad of it. Less work for me to find the next meaningful association to continue the blog posts being churned out one-by-one, like Struthers to Scroop here where the two-dimensional, numbers uttering chihuahua with a name of a different animal species altogether stands upon. Sim, that is…

… and diagonally on it in addition. Let’s follow this.

—–

Ahh yes.

I miss it.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0505, Collagesity Fordham, Long Islands, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

Table Room (cutting down to size)

“Take *that*… *pixy*. Think you can come onto *my* territory and steal –”

“What’s ya doing?” Baker Bloch walking in. Wheeler thought he was out exploring Nautilus this afternoon per usual. No: staying home instead; hanging out in another tower of the castle, unseen until now. “Rain,” he rationalized to Wheeler after catching her by surprise. Pixy! He makes a note to check that out later. “In the forecast all day,” he says without sitting. Better to stand at this awkward moment for a quicker escape.

“And the rumblings, yeah,” she said, also seeing the occasional lightning in the air and trying to keep confidence in her voice. A rare off day for Our Second Lyfe. She shouldn’t have taken the risk. Now she has to explain.

“Sooo. Who’s this again? Pixley was it (internal snicker)?”

—-

A *rival*, he pondered later, returning to his tower-for-the-day. Something to do with Greenleaf, she said. The rock village. Pretty eyes, though. And I guess the rest was built around that. Nice something else as well. Said she came from a magical place called Pettry Bottom, not far from Red Dragon that is the same as Blue Pennant in the past. Must have something to do with Helen, then. And 3.16, she said. The *others* are gaining power. What *others*?

“I took her over to smaller Hooterville out of the big city glare and then beat the pulp out of her,” she also excused herself, buying into my joke and eating an orange. Hmmm.

In retrospect I think of Baker Blinker and what happened to her via Karoz, history sort of repeating itself.

Wheeler remains a force to be reckoned with. “Pixley” knows that now. Might as well pit a top-of-her-game Tina Louise against a wannabe Mary Ann Summers. Relevant.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0505, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula

statement of fact

This boat remains landlocked.

I have them now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0505, Crisp Sea, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

How about 65.

Looks like it’s official! Alysha and Man About Time are a legitimate couple, synchronized with each other at 112 posts apiece. Axis isn’t happy, but he has Wheeler according to this list, whoever the heck that happens to be at the moment, ha (it’s Alysha).

And then on the very next page of this largest to smallest character ordering we have another couple, two men this time, also mysteriously traveling through time and space as a harmonized pair. Our Marty and our Roger Pine Ridge with 64 apiece. If we didn’t know that Marty is actually short for McCartney we know that now. And Pine Ridge is a similar “advancement” over Waters. Both are rock stars extraordinaire, and as such they have the right to examine The Rock in Real Life. First things first, though.

Hopefully Alysha and MAT are as happy together (like Turtles) when they’re 64, but I kind of doubt it. The relationship could end any month, day, hour, minute, second. I’ll have to recheck when I finish this post.

Seems like our old bloodied vampire friend Pitch Darkly also has 64, but we’ll take care of that quick-smart.

There.

Wait!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0505, Heterocera, Metropolis, Nautilus, Rubi^, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island^, Upper Austra^

00300505

“I’m as high as you (*wheeze*) now. Let’s trade.” He hands him the chips, he passes him the bong. The cycle begins again.

Having finished chopping the wood for tonight, Greg Ogden plays on his roundabout, also going in circles but in a different way. He’s getting in the mood to paint.

In a darker perspective, rogue clown Sepisexton sits down by the small beach of the same rental unit and ponders a cry, thinking back to when she was just Sepi and Sexton all separated out. She wonders if she should split, depressing party over except for the really serious heads like Even and Steven smushed together over there on the bench behind that painted Martin rock. She decides it should be between sections 6 and 7 of this here photo-novel, 30 in a series of, dare I say it, 31? Because there will be a 7 born from 6 the way things are progressing, fer sure. Just like the last one (but unlike 28, 27, 26 before it).

Let’s see, what else here? There’s Ted, another head, on the swings that won’t swing. He doesn’t care at this point, tripping the light fantastic.

And then of course the Monolith itself towering above it all, which Greg will paint a bit later for the umpteenth time. Call it his new Treasure Hill. He plans to make bookoos of money from the art soon. Very soon, he contemplates. As soon as Agents 23 and 47 phone him back with some figures. But in truth they were just investigating his drug ring, being police and not business agents. They’d have enough evidence for a bust soon. Let’s call them Crack and Whack.

Oh, I forgot about Marilyn back at one of the teepees beside Keith B.’s cabin on the other side of the Monolith from Greg’s rental unit, just across the long and dusty road. ‘Nother one, pheh: currently plucking feathers from a hen for a new batch of arrows while Sylvester the Stallion looks on…

… make that chipping an arrowhead with a chisel and ballhammer. Um…

She turns her back on peeing Keith B. while carving an arrow shaft with a chore knife, the final tableau, wondering why he doesn’t do his business in the woods like all the other animals. The place still stinks but she doesn’t mind — she’s not the neighbor who complained (Suzzy Q, the teepee dweller across the way who up and moved day before yesterday’s tomorrow). Probably infected with the virus as well, wouldn’t you think, perhaps catching it from him. Because they were an item, maybe still are. She reminds him so much of his sister, which is probably not a good thing. She feels safe around him — her Safe Zone here — because she knows he would kill to protect her. He blacks out and another stuffed animal is set up in the woods just over there next to a cave, or perhaps just over here beside a camping tent. Like Mother.

Done (both of them). “Head’s up!” she calls. An arrow whizzes by, just missing his now forward facing abdomen and landing at his feet.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0505, Paper, Paper Soap

7:25/7:50

“Well if it isn’t the commander of the British invasion,” spoke Fern Stalin softly to Lichen Roosevelt at the bar, receiving a small chuckle. Lichen was usually the witty one, surprising her. “This should be fun,” she said back, watching Alysha continue to walk toward still reading Bartholomew.

“Hi. Finished yet?”

“Last paragraph, *ugh*.”

—–

“We’re going to leave them all in; remove the cross outs instead. *They’re* the mistakes, starting with Carumba.”

“I… understand.”

“Is the soup good? I made it myself.”

“I….. love.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0505, Horsa^, Maebaleia/Satori

narcissist

“You’re not going to Mary… me?”

“No,” Hector Horace Howard said in response. “You are for another, alas.” He added the last word in as improvisation. He looked toward the director for approval, with none coming. He was looking for himself.

—–

In other local news, Hatti, the witch who told everyone at her doorstep to go away, has gone away herself, house (and also apparently hat) deleted. I think we have yet another piece of the overall picture puzzle.


“Goodbye 108. Goodbye V-Gate.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0505, Nautilus, Rim Isles

holding a banana

“‘sunburn by noon, clammy at night, cracks in the earth, pavers delight'” She stopped quoting the poem she’d spontaneously made just 15 minutes ago while studying the damaged cement before her out of boredom; paid attention to a potentially paying customer approaching on same. We’ll see how this goes, she thinks.

“Yelloo!” Stu Umbriel said in greeting.

—–

Earlier/later:

“Yelloo!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0505, Paper Soap, Soap

two of a kind

“I broke it. My phone (*sob*).”

“Alright, alright,” Justin Dustbin hurried up former 2nd cousin once removed Beverly Dooright, found crumpled and discarded outside a local club. “Just how much do you *want*.”

“I’ll have to replace… my face!”

“So, erm, 500?”

—–

Yeah, I just spread my arms out like this to look big, you know, like an animal…”

“Yeah, like *this*,” Sugar McDermitt imitated, spreading his arms as well.

“Like an animal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Rooaarrr, heh heh.” Sugar claws the air in front of him then returns his arms to his side.

“Yeah. Oo ga oo ga oo ga, huh huh.” Pissy Demwit beats on his chest; arms then return to side.

“That… that banana ran all the way back to the fruit stand he came from, har.”

“Yeah. Lickity split,” reinforced Sugar again.

“On *Sundae*.” They almost split their sides with this, laughing and laughing as Biker Mann finally drove his XK59 motorcycle away, having enough of it. He had other concerns today besides talking to two ruffian *meatheads*.

—–

It came to be called the Pigeon Butt Murders, because there was one roosting on the rear end of every found corpse. This was the first. John E. Weissmuller III, a former special ops swimmer for the pentagostal church out on loan to the navy.

And where was this off duty swimmer/sailor heading to on main street in Slaashsides when he got whacked on the back by a still unknown assailant? Jim’s Club, the very same we’ve seen Justin Dustbin and Beverly Dooright on the other side of just a minute ago in this here blog post. They shortly become victims nos. 2 and 3. Nearby Sugar McDerrmit and Pissy Demwit, arms still raised to sides: nos. 4 and 5. Biker Mann drove away. Biker knew more than he was letting on. He knew these guys were as much toast as bacon and eggs, and that they’d never be harassing a poor little innocent fruit child again.

—–

She warned him at the bar earlier on. I believe it was about 1/2 past 6. “I don’t like seals, leeches, or any other type of animal. I’m going to do away with the lot of them, starting with the area just around this club (*sip*).”

Biker Mann drove far on his XK59 that day, but not to the police, because he was on the lam himself for a series of serious crimes down in Slayertown. He had no right to judge a fellow murderer (etc.). Later they became husband and wife for a spell, but that was after the kids had themselves already grown up to become looters and burglars and so on.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0505, Nautilus, North, Slaashsides

00250505

Sandman stood before the Portal to newest region of Pickleland, deciding whether he really wanted to enter. He’d been practicing his Canadian for months so no problem on the language front. It’s just — the hellish stuff and all. Was Sally worth it in the end? And what about the spacecraft he’d seen landing *without a crash* just beyond the high ridge behind him now. Was it an omen? Something had happened; something had been invented. This should be a Portal *outta here* he realized. Time had been changed/altered. The PickleSong part of Pickleland should not yet exist. And David A.B. didn’t know this fact either when he sent him away.

“He can *smell* the trouble,” onlooking Registered Nurse Griselda spoke to the little pumpkin headed demon below her (Steve). “More senses over there beyond sight and sound.” And therein lies part of the problem.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0505, Pickleland