Category Archives: 0508

Boos (narcissist 02 (abcdE))

She finds herself in a place doing realistic things, like blow drying her hair. But this is the morning she finds out she is actually a man. She stares into the mirror, looking at them after the removal of the false, the fake. How deflating!

The mayor’s nose keeps growing. Guy visits the doctor again, still working for the resistance. A new strategy is being hatched. Stealing the golden goose egg *has* produced results. He’s straightened out, elongated: the I of TILE revealed.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0508, Kowloon^^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, MISTY MO^^, Paper Soap, Yaya Land

Moon on drums

“Place the call, I.P. As — soon as you’re done with your soda.”

“Oh I’ll be done as soon as I dial these numbers don’t you worry.”

“Don’t — forget the 4.”

“Nah. Never.” All the numbers were dialed. Soda was running out.

“Hallo?” came the voice on the other end, a familiar one. Soda: done. I.P. could talk freely.

“Send them over (*click*).”

—–

Kolya hangs up the phone; moves from bar to stage. “Guys, I hate to interrupt rehearsals but you’re needed down at the bay.”

—–

Part of the band remained. The ones that weren’t real.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0508, Paper Soap

Mouse Island, etc.

“Beaver,” decided the littlest mouse perched between Pansy’s ears, noting the flattish tail.

Smoking and toking Lemmy on his back had nothing to say about the matter, facing away. Pansy knew this was an important decision for the future of his franchise — *their* franchise, because he had to keep the creator in the picture for all those photo ops later on. But Dr. Mouse had, how do I put it delicately? Let’s just go with Brain Damage still to seal the deal. Endless triangle, endless loop, the yelloo sun far far away, hidden by night. Jasper knows. Jasper knows this is a beaver. His head is just below the water, right Jasper? Sorry: “Right Jasper?”

“Yeah boy.” Jasper is the littlest mouse between the ears, with the primary speaker being Pansy himself, who combed all through those drone shots the day before and the day before that, looking for any anomalies. They could get no closer.

—–

It was a place of wisdom, of learning, this Amazon or Amazon-like environment. 12 sims total, just like the river tiles of Carcassonne (game).

“The Source is missing,” corrected W, again just over there somewhere, just around the corner or out of sight. I still can’t see her secret, schweet smile. “12th,” she clarifies. “Find the 12th. Or at least have fun doing it. See you later!”

—–

“Yarrow,” spoke wise Dr. Mouse, or so he thinks. “Spirit of Yarrow over the head. Delete it and you’re lost. This island…”

“It’s not an island,” one the “pupils” dare speak up, I think it was the right one.

“You over there!” shouted the obviously mad man now. “Against the wall! It’s the kane for you again, pheh pheh pheh.” Dr. Mouse was panting he was so mad. Both mad *and* mad: both kinds. The worst possible combination. Whack whack whack! came the stick to the pants. The right pupil was obviously wrong. And later he became left behind in 5th as the other pupil or pupils graduated to 6th. It was Paul’s switch all over again.

—–

“So you’re the famous or infamous Dr. Paul Mouse,” spoke Duncan from the opposite stump later on, as if between 2 pupils, 2 ears. “Knew it.”

“Glad you could make it tonight, W.” But her schweet smile still remained hidden since Duncan didn’t have any teeth behind his lips.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0508, Amazon

too obvious

“Yes that *is* a pretty penny to pay for a hanging, but I guess I should move on, er, Brunhilde is it?”

“Yes sir.” Massively muscled Brunhilde looked beyond Sandman at the now empty couch in the distance and understood that his master had finished his nap. Sandman indeed could move on. But he didn’t say this. A little more stalling couldn’t hurt. Plus he kind of enjoyed the company and chatting. They don’t get a lot of visitors these days to this sector — most have just started calling it The Sector, because of the missing N and especially R thing involving returned Dany Rada and his time plunger that we mentioned in the previous post, another West Virginia connection like Gormania here before it and perhaps directly relatable to that spooky building filled dot on the map. If only this Sandman would have brought his bike to this realm, Brunhilde thought, suddenly feeling sorry for the pitiful man-person before him. He looked again at the empty couch. He decided to take a chance. “I assume… you can ride a bicycle.”

—–

Quicker than most, then, he was upon the red door leading to the castle. But most people didn’t go there immediately, having hesitation about such a radical change in such a new land. Red is a sign of warning, danger. This was, of course, the plan all along for its designer and creator: to put the obvious end of the journey right up front and center at the beginning and then taunt them at the end about the missed opportunity to jump all the trouble they went through. Think Dorothy of Kansas on the Yellow Brick Road at the beginning of her Oz journey. As the stupid Good Witch of the North told her much later, she could have just clicked her ruby slippered heels three times right then and there and be whisked back to home, safe and sound. No need to kill an even more deadly witch, no need to deal with an obvious incompetent wizard who was probably sending her and her accumulated mates into a death trap. No all she had to do — then and there — was click those stupid heels 3x and — gone. It’s a fatal flaw in the 1948 Oz movie that the Rainbow Sphere perfectly predicts, and actually resolves in the big picture. And so it is here, and with another red object. There is no accident in this. Sandman can ride his bike safely here to the right and to the left but not straight on, else *crash* (another one). In short, what we are dealing with is more *witchery*.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0508, Pickleland

WX(YZ)

A “W” has been inserted in X City between the 2 X’s that provide the sprawling Maebaleia/Satori crossroads metropolis its name, highlighting, as it were, the X shaped crossroads kind of in the middle of them, the only one on the continent as a whole.

Tessa teleports in, but only finds a smiley face there (Smiley, or perhaps MOM). She had to turn her back on it to get a good picture of the “W” on the inworld map and apologized beforehand, saying she meant no offense and that her directional shadow would get in the way otherwise. She made a note to send the round yellow being a copy of her Beige Magic book later on, because Black would be too dangerous, perhaps make her unhappy in the long shot. Best Beige for the chips and putts, and Brown at most for the irons/middle game. Black is reserved for the woods, the big gunns.

Here’s Tessa’s picture — she’s at the yellow dot in Zugspitze with the, ah, yellow dot, hmm. And, yes, I suppose she’s still dreaming all of this, hence the Brown, Beige, Black for a clearly inanimate object.

Tessa later figures out she is the smiling face: Smiley. And also her half-sister. Maybe even more the latter (hmm, again).


Mysten, 2015

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0508, Maebaleia/Satori^^, X-City^

spectre from the past

“Well I at least have some refuge bins outside — for the whole neighborhood, really.” He turns. “But I’m in a *pickle* about what to do with the rest of this building, Gotham.”

“Couple more bong hits and we might get it,” suggests the psychedelic reggae monk to fellow pothead Stumpy, pointing in what he thinks is the direction of their apartment above Bob White’s Record Store. Such cheap rent! He can afford both.

—–

Later:

“We’ll have to do something about this, Trash and Recycling. Can you, I don’t know, *combine* the two? At least get rid of one of ’em?”

“On it,” they both say in unison, already planning ahead.

—–

More later:

“Umm, I’m confused.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0508, Bellisaria^^, NWES Island^

he got glowing reviews in the “Daily Beast”

“We call him Torch but I believe his first name is Glenn. I try to stay a certain distance from the fellow understandably, me being both Snowy and Frosty at once.” He looks over. “Still not talking to me, Old Grey?” He turns back, sighs. “This NWES Island, Old Grey. I don’t think we can ever leave now. Collagesity has been fully assimilated.” He pries his eyes off the hypnotic dancing fireman again, looks at his watch. “Speaking of the City I think I’ll take a walk; getting a little hot in here. Cool off, you know.” He was thinking of a certain seat in town shaded green and blue formerly across the street from a fire station. Just south and east of Diamondfyre, but not far enough to forget how to come home to mother.

—–

“I was born there, in that dresser,” spoke Snowmanster to no one now, not even one who doesn’t listen, doesn’t know. “I became someone that day, way back in photo-novel 3. You were there, Old Grey. Even at the beginning. We talked of, well, we discussed a lot of stuff while walking to Purden and meeting Core-Alena for the first time. You weren’t impressed. I recall you mimicking me through a ‘Star Wars’ character. But now you’re paying the price.” He looks over at Old Grey that isn’t there but he pretends she is anyway, cane still in hand. He notices the ill fitting wig again, the cracked grey skin. Old. Dead, even. Death itself. She was beginning to smell.

Wee person Aloha climbed out of the picture before him and introduced herself by saying goodbye, pheh. Green lantern carrying Fern will have to do.


“Hellooo.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0508, Apple's Orchard, Marwood, NWES Island^

fire in the road fire in the road!

“Why are you telling *me* all this, Baker Bloch, he he?”

“Well, because…”

“I’m a Bee? I’m no longer a Bee in any way, shape, form. I don’t even have the antennae any more. Here,” and Hucka Doobie tilts the top of her head toward Baker and pats it. “Nothing.”

“You’re from Mammoth Cave, right?”

“No. Never said that.”

“I think you did.”

Hucka Doobie shakes her antennae-less head and crosses her arms over her red plaid vest.

“Where, then?”

She uncrosses her arms. She crosses her arms. She stares.

“Aahhh. So it was *you* that tied the bow on that building… shed. Whatever.”

“Maybe.” It was a more definitive answer than Mammoth Cave. I decided to press.

“How old are you, Hucka Doobie? 108?”

Shaking again this time. I figured former host Charles Nelson Blinkerton would have been about that age. Had he lived. Boy, hadn’t thought about *him* in a long time. And Hucka Doobie use to *be* him. A him. Took a while, I suppose, for all the hormones to work their way out, alongside (and parallel with) the bee stuff it seems. I decided to press even further. I asked about a man-bee fusion.

But Hucka Doobie was gone. She didn’t fly away, but just took flight. She’d made her point I suppose. Center Point.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0508, Kentucky

separate but equal

Somehow I always end up in the right place, often smart George A. thinks from his stool chair while staring at a gigantic, leaning tower of vegetarian hamburger he is debating whether to eat. Probably not — he’s not that high tonight. Yet. The red, yellow and red and yellow burger kings or princes or whatever dance synchronized to his side. He dare not look at them again else they go all wrong once more and start prancing on each others foot. Feet. So large. Where’s his joint, he he.

Right here.

He starts to eat.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0508, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Toppsity^

ants and uncles

“I *hate* Star. I will *never* go with the Star, pheh.”

—–

Marsha “Pink” Krakow was confused. She had come back home to Storybrook after being way up in the air over in Southeast (aerial), then landed here instead. Apparently a whole ‘nother town on top of her hometown (!), or at least the start of one. Was this the future of Storybrook, hidden in the sky only to descend when the right time comes? And — will the right time be at the end of the Corona V Beer scare? Why did she think that at this moment?

She turns. Just like her uncle’s shop in NWES City. How? She hadn’t seen him in years. Axis or Ally or something. Yes, Axis, um… she can’t remember the last name. Her own uncle!

She looks across a side street…

… to see herself exiting a bar called The Trunk Ant. Herself! A different timeline, she realized. One where her Storybrook never existed.

She had found the beating heart of the Big Inside.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0508, Corsica^^, Southeast^, Storybrook^