Category Archives: 0507

March 20, 2020 · 7:30 am

clubbing 03

Firefive could barely not see the little central Danshire island that started it all. He decides to eliminate volume to check.

“Aah. *There* you are you little bastard. No Small Kowloon Shack perched on your noggin neither here nor there. Good!” Firefive, commonly referred to as either Fire or Five amongst friends — 1/2 and 1/2 — then turned the other way atop the Debelox water tower in the middle of Mouth of Ralph to gaze south instead. Could he see *it* as well. The Mansfield Mansion in Port Mansfield?

“Aah. *There* you are you little bastard,” he repeated when zooming in and volume returned. *My* bastard. Getting dark — better head back home for now.

“Lucifer!? I’m hoome!”

Jack Snow the French bulldog barked at him after he opened the door. Jack Snow never remembered who he was, although he’d lived here for years. Batty Casey waited in the living room, ready this night to make the Big Reveal to her sometimes lover, sometimes enemy, 1/2 and 1/2 again. She was hoping this would tip the scales one way or another. “Friend or foe?” she wanted to call back but bit her firey tongue with joint firmly in cheek. She moved it with her tongue more toward the middle again and took another deep draw. She then decided this wouldn’t be the night. They would watch reruns of “I Love Lucifer” on the tellie instead. Fred Merth — so funny.

Fire or Five would become a widower soon enough at the end of 5. The first male widow of the bunch, growing weekly almost. 6 may bring a return to normalcy. But: doubtful.

“Come on in, dearest. Our show’s about to start.”

—–

She perches behind, oh so tempted to clobber him right here and now with her deadly bat just to get it over with. Then the heart accompanied by big band music appears, tipping her in the right wrong direction again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0507, Corsica, Southeast

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January 12, 2020 · 10:33 am

the F word

I’m going to *search* out meaning in life while I have it. Like this Great Fracture or Fissure. What is it? Why do people live around it? Fractured — like this world, this estate. Why exist here?

—–

I’ve got to get out of here! thought Duncan Avocado while staring out from the Great Fracture or Fissure sim at the Spiral Jetty over in Hambone. Create some interactive land art; take some Real Life photos; something! Jackson Bloch did it. I can too!

But, no, his assignment tonight was to head down to the Last Drop at the west lip of the Fissure and interact with the locals; try to get some dirt on what’s going down. Besides lip rocks.

—–

“I dreamed last night,” began weight challenged Gabriel again, “that the Fissure was a great mouth, trying to tell us something. You know, that rock in the middle, that pillar, was the tongue.”

“We Camptons like to call it *Fracture*, reiterated Jed across from him for the hundredth time. It was a great debate: Fracture or Fissure. Another one of those split worlds, like we’ve seen with continental names Maebaelia or Satori. Another of those South-North separations, even. Because the South side of the Fissure, Camptons included, preferred Fracture, while the North side — Gabriel, et al. — preferred the obverse. One could *observe*, from above, the mouth speaking, true. Breaking away from Gabriel’s glare, Jed allowed him to continue his story, name problem set aside for the moment. “Alright,” he encouraged. “Go ahead.”

Duncan listened carefully from a nearby chair as the fourfold truth was told about the sim.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0507, The Waste+

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November 7, 2019 · 6:26 am

Gaston = NYC (among other things)

The Lord balancing Sugar Houses.

We know this is “Abbey Road”.

And that something is definitely going on at the Rhino along it (portal).

We know a lot about this place by now. This Gaston. But we haven’t quite grasped the story within the story. Is there one? That’s what I’m aiming to find out.


“We’ll have to kill him.”

Zach’s still waiting for Georgie Porgie and Heidi Widey to emerge from the Joint Joint. He fears the worse. He’s been there for 2 days now. But he’ll wait till The End.

What really is at the end of Abbey Road?

Where have all the Berries gone? Where’s Sugar Dumpling? Where’s… Jacob I.?

We know it is a place to hide (Hidden Vilage). Hitgal represents someone.


“But… what’s you think?”

Why the doubling with the Vilania safe hub? Why can’t Hank Graphite get back there instead of here?


“It wasn’t suppose to be this way.”

Why flies in Central Park of all places?

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August 26, 2019 · 6:28 am

scarlet

“Do you think I’m pretty, Jim A. *Sorry* — Jim B. I did it again.”

“You *did* do it again,” spoke Jim B. from the bed. “You’re *always* doing that. There never *was* a Jim A. It’s *B*. Always was, always will be.”

“Jim Brown,” Your Mama pronounces the name fully. “But you didn’t answer me. Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“That’s not what you asked,” Jim B. answers, tightening the noose around his neck. Definitely not a nouse. Definitely not Jim A.

Later…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0507, Maebaleia/Satori, Pipersville/Sink X

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June 23, 2019 · 7:58 am

more

“We made it Brother Amos,” spoke Gabby, who had barely stopped talking during their whole trip down from Toppsity. “*Twin* brother Amos,” he declared. “Fellow Gemini; no doubting of that. Now all we have to do is find non-twin and non-Gemini Brother Keith B. and save him from The Shallows.”

“Where he’ll be murdered,” clarifies Brother Amos from his own bike.

“Killed at the very least,” supplied Gabby Truth, who always tells. “Hills. Of Bill. Keep him out.”

“Keep him out,” echoes Amos, almost as excited as Gabby about finally arriving in half empty or half full (take your pick) Cassandra City. It was not the destination they had planned for their escape. Not atall. Golden Sink… or even further north, had always been tops on the list. Maybe the Lake District. But something told them to turn left (south) instead of right (north) when leaving their cursed home village via Route 8.

“The 4 colored clown and her monochromatic opposum must be here,” Gabby spoke, half in a scrying trance; not unusual. “Soon at the very least.”

“Okay.”

The brothers got off their bikes and locked them up with the rest already on the rack. Jim’s and Todd’s. Jenny and Keith had come by bus. Tillie and Tealy were walking. Cindy A., perhaps the last to arrive but also perhaps the first, came or comes by plane. Wealthier than the rest she is. Later: the poorest of them all, sometimes not even being able to afford to walk. One or perhaps even two more by boat. Identity or identities yet to be determined. Maybe the Bishop and his center-no-more King. Let’s see, who else? Craighead Phillips seems trapped walking around another half empty, half full (again, take your pick) Bluefield city in West Virginia, Real Life, USA, so he may not be a candidate. Besides, he may not even be born yet, since we’re in the past, before Jenny became Your Mama (for example). Tracy Austin appears similarly stuck around the Blue Feather Sea, another BLUEF (since the variant name is Bluefeather, pronounced BLU-fe-ter by some). But, again, it perhaps doesn’t matter since she may also not be born. Think that about covers it. Oh, I guess I should explain more about the Man About Time/Marcus Fox Smart/Professor Suckaluck triangle. But I might not have time tonight. Have to get to Tillie and Tealy!

—–

“What are you doing?” Tillie questioned her fellow, colorful travel mate.

“Calisthenics. What does it look like?”

Tillie faces the yawning gap again. “Yes,” she agreed, pondering doing some stretches herself. “Looks like we have a longer journey than anticipated.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0014, 0507, Cass City+, Maebaleia/Satori

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April 21, 2019 · 7:18 am

Jacksboro

Somewhat later, a tall, blue-ish gnome approached the side of the sunken pool from around one of the two giant cylinder rocks there, telling respectively swimming and sunbathing Woody and Wheeler he dug it. His name: Salazar, according to the object’s description. Beside him, a shorter, similarly red capped gnome protested Linden tier gauging, a subject reviewed in a post earlier this month by Baker Bloch to “newbie” Grassy Noll. I don’t know what the policeman has to do with any of this. Maybe he’s policing the protester?

Who lives in the nearby lemony VWX dust bunny fairy house remains a mystery. I don’t think it’s Salazar nor the other gnome, nor the policeman. Someone else.

Wait. I’m picking up something. A person named Jack lives there. Pretty sure of that.

So many Jacks, though, to choose from.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0507, Collagesity Fordham-, Lower Austra, Nautilus

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February 13, 2019 · 8:25 am

church (Eotia Village)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sherwood_Anderson

Four[5] or five[6] years were spent in Caledonia, years which formed Anderson’s earliest memories. This period later inspired his semi-autobiographical novel Tar: A Midwest Childhood (1926).[7] In Caledonia Anderson’s father began drinking excessively, which led to financial difficulties, eventually causing the family to leave the town.[7]

“That’s an interesting story, Zoidboro. But I thought it was Caledon.”

Again with the smarts, Zoidboro ponders. What was it now, 8 1/2 months? 8 3/4ths? Better get to the caves asap. “Cale*don*ia,” he emphasizes to his pregnant male friend. “It would be Caledon if told from their perspective, but this is through the eyes of Rosehaven. The Princess ruler, to be specific. Soon to be Queen now that the father is dead. And the mother remains in her grave.”

“So…,” Patrick Starr tries to reason, “… Caledon, I mean, *Rosehaven* is way over here.” He moves his right hand far to the right. “And The Waste, *our* home, is way over here.” The left hand goes more left.

“But brought together by the Oracle,” states Zoidboro, shifting slightly on the bed to peer at the strangely colored 8 ball in the middle of the table to one side. “Tiger,” he completes, noting the residual “stripes”.

“I suppose.” Patrick retracts both hands, sits up, and holds his bloated stomach. “Oh, I felt a kick!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0507, Caledonia, End of Time+

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December 2, 2018 · 9:47 am

Providence

“The vila of Twin Peaks they called it from 1880 to 1920. One peak protected by God, the other ruled by Satan and his minions. Black and white of course. Er, white, black. No coincidence the *black* peak towers over this subsection centered by the pool; no coincidence eyeman Jacob built his Joint Joint here instead of elsewhere. This is the true Gaston history you’re looking for. Sugar houses and all. I like your new look, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Hitgal replied to Sangria.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Hittie. You seem anxious about something.”

“Oh I’m just staring at that flag… over there on the abandoned laudromat. Do you think it was there, say, yesterday?”

Sangria looked out the window as well. “Don’t know. Why don’t you have some wine instead of that soda pop; smooth your ruffles out.”

“I’m just thinking about… the Dark Days.”

“Oh don’t go back there. God’s here now sweetie. Watching over us all.”

“I’m telling you Officer Brenin. That door has an eye in it.”

“Where? Where?”

Domino glances over. “You’re looking too low, man. Get off your knees. Bend down.”

—–

“Oh yeah. I see it now. But what does it mean?”

“God. Eye of God, man. Looking out and in at once.”

“But the other side: backwards. Dark Days.”

“We’re here to stop all that nonsense,” declares the now upright Officer Brenin, knowing full well what he said was a lie.

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September 15, 2018 · 8:48 am

art of the deal

“How do you like my painting, Mr. Dune. I’m thinking of calling it ‘Life on an Orange.'”

Pathetic, Herbert Dune thinks to himself. “Exquisite,” he says aloud. “Listen, Madame Silver. I see that you’re a very busy and productive young woman.”

Madame Silver giggles outlandishly. “Oooo, young *man*. You flatter me!”

“Thank you. I won’t waste any more of your precious time. I’m here for the complaint about one of our dollhouses. You said a characters within is… stuck?”

Madame Silver talks while continuing to paint. “Yes, um, but why don’t we discuss it over tea. Do you like tea? Hot tea I mean. Cold tea is for barbarians. I hope you’re not a cold tea lover. For the sake of our continued business transactions.”

“You are one of our most loyal customers, Madame Silver. I will be glad to have tea with you if you can take time from your busy schedule.” I *hate* tea, Herbert Dune grumbles to himself again. Cold *or* hot. But I’ll swallow it for the deal.

—–

“Well this is simply *delightful*. I’m glad you like the tea.”

“It is so so delicious, Madame Silver. I haven’t had tea like that in a long time. Perhaps back before I joined the company.”

“How many years have you been there now? Five, six? I’m glad you got your promotion. That way you finally get to meet *me*.”

“I am glad to be in your humble service, Madame Silver. I’ve heard so many good things about you.” He pauses significantly, hoping the old codger will *finally* get to the dollhouse and needed repairs. Of course he’s going to try to sell her a brand new dollhouse… at a significant discount of course. But pushing upgrades instead of expensive repair is standard practice in the business. In any business, really. Those based on pure capitalism and money and greed. And certainly like Doll Pedlars, Inc.

She flattens out her skirt and stands up. “*Well*. I suppose we should get to that dollhouse, eh? Back up the stairs we go!”

—–

“Yes, I think I see the problem, Madame Silver. But it’s a bad one. We’ll have to take the whole dollhouse back to the office for repairs. *Or*… we could sell you an upgrade for a cut rate price. Maybe save you money in the end. Your choice of course. But this looks like a 02350 malfunction of the circuit board. I’d highly recommend the upgrade. I’ll deliver it to you in person, make sure everything works perfectly before leaving.”

“Oooo. Look at that fluffy feather bed up there on the next level, Mr. Dune,” Madame Silver deviates. “I’m sooo sleepy. I could use a nap. Could you also use a nap? We could sleep on opposite sides. Unless…”

Oh. She’s *that* type of old codger, thought Herbert Dune. A cougar codger. Chris withheld that valuable piece of information about the work.

He pauses to consider. He decides to be frank. “Will it help seal the deal?”

“It *might*” She giggles in that grating way again. Herbert Dune makes a note to not say things that might induce it again.

“Alright. But I have to be back at the office by 8.”

“Make it 9.” She giggles once more.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0010, 0507, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island

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June 28, 2018 · 8:11 am

main

“A clown?” Mary exclaimed upon meeting the Good Rev. Amos T. Sandman yesterday at the Main Church of Cheese over in the Pond District. “No *wonder* you hate the Cult of Oo’d so much!”

“Indeed!” the Reverend exclaimed back. “*Now*. Which of the gateway gods do you choose to worship today?” He shields his mouth with his hand and says in a considerably lower voice: “Say fries, say fries.”

“Um. Fries I suppose.”

“Good choice!” the Reverend said, returned to shouting mode. “Please join Sister Deni Stew Moore at the appropriate side altar.” He waves to his right. “You have 8 minutes, then must yield to another. As you can see, for a Wednesday we have quite the crowd here, and more are filing in — everyone needs a turn. And the fries are a very popular warmup before the main course here at the Main. Enjoy!”

When Mary goes to the side altar to join a woman who’s apparently been totally cheesed (Mary had been warned about such staunch devotees), she found she couldn’t bend her knees in the proper, reverential fashion and merely had to sit upon the provided pose ball.

“Psst. Mary,” the cheese being next to her whispered out of the side of her curdled mouth. “It’s me. Bill.”

“Wheeler?”

She whispered again, more urgently. “Keep it down, keep it down. And address me as Bill from now on. I’m the queen after all.”

“Sure you are, Wheeler… Bill. But what’s this all about?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0507, Pond District

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