Category Archives: 0505

statement of fact

This boat remains landlocked.

I have them now.

Leave a comment

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!

Leave a comment

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?)

Leave a comment

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.”

Leave a comment

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.”

Leave a comment

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!”

Leave a comment

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?)

Leave a comment

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)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0505, Pickleland

00240505

It almost ended just off the mountain today but not quite; held it in. Back on the mountain tonight with Tessa (safety). “Don’t go past the Easter Island head,” the owner requested, and so she didn’t. But this allowed her to explore Bridge Town on *this* side of the gulf. As long as she didn’t cross the bridge, the one I *barely* made it back across, pheh. But should I have?

Maybe I should name this side of the small burg Necksity or Neck City but I’ll go with Fryburg. Because it is *actually* owned by a Frye, who I’m going to change to Fry, along with that small cemetery on the side of the RL mountain that Lisa the V. probably owns as well, along with Rich. Rich = snowy peak? It’s all coming to a head. In some fashion.

Tessa explores Fryburg — again, she is allowed this because it still lies on the mountain with the butterfly themed tree house.

It would be logical, I suppose, to find Fisher within, since Fisher is the same as Fry in the big picture, and also Fisher, as you may or may not recall (probably not) is *married* to Lisa the Vegetarian. All that drama happened in photo-novel 10. I thought 9-10-11 would cover the Omega continent, and we wouldn’t have to return for any length of time. I seemed to have been wrong. This mountain is important. Frys — all dead at age 65 or earlier. All living now on that mountain which was a blessing. And an impossible mid-winter sun flower just outside the cemetery indicating Lisa’s presence. How beautiful!

A bright idea comes to Tessa as she looks around. One of these, er, airships could be the way she’s suppose to escape the mountain. How about that largest one, that piece of steampunk *junk* over there. She’s good with Grandpa’s narrowboat, which is now hers (if she can make it back home). Maybe she can fix up this old thing to make it run properly.

Fisher within wondered how long it would take Tessa to figure it out. If she has half the brains that his wife did: not long. And so it came to pass that Fisher and Tessa soon made off for parts unknown, but not for at least several more posts. Probable destination: Castle Town, to meet up with the transmogrified Barry De Boy.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0505, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^

00230505

“A whale can be a thing.”

“A whale can be a *ghost*.”

“Ghost thing!”

—–

So many wanted to get through. Well: seven. I had to control them all, give them *say*, but not overwhelm (me). I wondered where the 7th, the I, was again. I hadn’t thought about it before the meeting much. Put it out of my mind for real, as I *tried* with the 6th. There is no Sunday in week: that sort of thing.

We had to get Carrcassonnee back up and running or Sepisexton would have her run of the place, the 7 and the 6 at once, hiding behind each other, taking turns facing the world. But maybe that’s they way it is suppose to be. In these here photo-novels, 23 in a series of 20.

Olive… Sepisexton. That was a long time ago. What’s black and white or yellow and read all over. Triangle of witches — always works that way. They swallow each other whole again and again until they all blend together, like butter. Better get those flapjacks ready because it’s suppertime. I should go on a walk.

Olive Oylstick gets up, deciding who to take with her. She must get back to Bellisaria soon. Landing on Bellissima, like with all the others present, was a mistake, a variant attractor (or something; I’m not a maths person). The Bellisarian squirrel walked into the Magick Shoppe and I knew what had to be done. It was both a heaven and a hell: an endpoint all the same. Our Second Lyfe ended here, or became First Life I suppose if it is the hell aspect. The whale sings. The Light of Aurelia shines over all.

“We’ve reached a limit, Wendy,” spoke Sandy Beech on that Hammerhead Light dock across the bay from the Shining thing. “The Twins commanded the dress, but if the dress doesn’t fit…”

“It doesn’t,” reinforced Wendy Wilson by his side, who we know now is part of the Breezy archetype.

He turns away from the light and toward her, the dark passenger. “Will you go back to ‘Burger Wars’, then? That simple is it?”

“It’s never that simple.”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0505, Bellisaria, Hana Lei^^