Category Archives: 0510

Bake’s

“Peppins, Pippins, Pippens… the name shifted all around down through the months, now almost years. It all had to do with that Peppi machine: that was the center it all revolved around, The Diamond some call it. David A.B. put his heart and his brain into designing that machine; literally for the brain. He knew what was just around the corner. A beat up old station wagon with an Illinois license plate reading BDR529, intent on harm. He didn’t have much time.”

“But what does this *mean*?” ask Poetry Dancer, with Jeffrie Phillips for the moment. Until Charlene Brown the punk woke up about 11 o’clock. Morning walk he could say, building up a sweat by running in place for a couple of minutes. Poor Charlene — so involved in her cryptozoology dissertation writing late into the night that she was oblivious to the transgressions. Jeffrie was taking full advantage of that. The bastard. But a smart bastard, perhaps the worst kind.

“It *means*, my dear, that the death was planned; on purpose. We must track down this Sammie Parr, who is in the collages after all. She is an amalgamation of 5, just like me. That means…”

“Pot-D. *Sorry*. I mean Pan-Z of course.”

“Yes. A rival member, perhaps rogue. *Obviously* rogue because of the murder and all. David A.B.’s brain must have been in there all right.”

“But what will they do with it *now*?” queries Poetry Dancer further, no ugly in her face for the moment.

“They got him to the hospital through trickery, just like before. The brain I mean, and not the host.”

“Of course.”

“It’s Mid Hazel,” he suddenly intuited, putting collage pieces together in his own brain. “She’s up to something.”

“Oh dear.”

“More… *cake*?” he said after a weighted pause.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0510, Black Ice, Heartsdale^^, NWES Island^

2nd Lieutenant

“They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, Kick Ass 02.” He seems to stare up at the old ruined house that is kind of box shaped like his head, but perhaps he is actually looking beyond it at the woman with the “straw.”

Kick Ass 02 had no reply for Kick Ass 01 because he had no lines in this scene. More perhaps later on the Kick Asses, who live in, let’s see, that would be Black Ice. Its Deep South. That must mean they know…

—–

“Elberta, do you remember the Kick Asses?”

“Of course. I use to date Boos! And Bogota, she admitted for the first time to her brother, her fiancee.”

“Bogota too? I thought you said he was a loser, a nobody.”

“Bogota was just… unformed.” She grabbed one of her floppy pigtails reflexively, a nervous action.

“Unformed? You always said uninformed, as in stoopid.” But Toothpick drew back here since he considered himself rather dimwitted. Calling the Black Ice pot kettle green or something.

“No, I said, or use to say, *uniformed*. He was a pilot in the 1st World Wide Web War. WWWWI. Fought for Amazonia…”

“I’m going to cut you short there, Elberta, future wife of mine, present sister of mine. He *didn’t* fight for no war. He *didn’t* fly around that tiger plane he bragged about all the time. He was a braggart, a bag headed braggart. And a liar. And a thief.”

“The only thing he stole was green from Black,” his fiancee/sister countered. “And that was only because…

“Jiminy,” Toothpick realized. “You’re talking about Black Ice itself!” They both realized it at the same time, in fact, minds — and probably bodies — still synchronized. We better leave them to it again.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0510, Black Ice, Neptune, NWES Island^

Sunklands Institute

“Aren’t you a little light to be a Blue Berry Girl?” Sandy quickly tried to backpedal the comment. “I mean, the *blue* and all.” He looked away from her crossed arms and her stare. He didn’t want to seem racist, but had stumbled into a big pile of awkwardness. Constance, sensing this, tried to lighten the mood.

“I knew what you meant.”

“I know you did, I know you did.” He was back to his confident self after the bumble. Should he ask her out on a date? Too soon? He thought again of his quest for the alchemical endpoint of All Blue, turned to All Orange for the purposes of this here blog. Started as a child when he saw the perfectly round, orange-like navel in a box. We covered that in photo-novel 10. And better make that a navel orange back in that sentence before last. In a fruit box.

“If you don’t want me, you can leave me.”

He leaned forward, switching gears. “Try the other one, Wheeler. If you don’t mind. She’s going to show up sooner than later. Best to test it out now.”

“I’ll do better than that,” Wheeler currently playing the role of Constance Blueberry said back to Baker Bloch currently playing the role of character-actor Sandy Beech.

So just for the record, here we have two core avatars interacting with each other so no need for that collaging effect I spoke about earlier. This is Baker Bloch, this is Wheeler. Not 2 characters of Baker Bloch or 2 characters of Wheeler, etc. On with the show…

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0510, Heterocera^^, Iris^

witch trial

“Thank you for your testimony, Miss Raincoat. You can get rid of the evidence.”

“Thank you my liege.”

“Does the prosecution have, er, any more witnesses to call today? Choose carefully. This case seems almost open and closed.”

“If you will my lord and liege, I call to the stand Uncle Stinky, a long time sailor of the Blue Feather Sea of this fair and fine continent.”

Judge Tronesisia looks around the court, sniffing a bit. Then she spots him with both senses as he enters from the right, grazing the shopping cart full of toilet paper in the process. “Pardon me,” he says while staring into wheeling Miss Raincoat’s stormy eyes. It was hate at first sight. And smell. They would meet much later, but she would be a mechanoid and he a pleasure drone on Alpha 9 by that time. Far far removed from this court perched on the 5th floor of the 5 story Burger Joint building. Prosecutor George A. lived right smack in the middle on the 3rd. You could say this was home base for him. He was in his element, stinky or not. He approached the bench after the witness was seated and the dirty air around him settled down.

“Now Uncle… Stinky is it?”

“Yeah. What of it?” True to a sailor he was salty, he was fishy, oily even. The odor might not be that unpleasant if it was Friday at, say, 5-7 o’clock.

George A. briefly contemplated asking him how he got his name and then dismissed it as irrelevant to the case. This was his ace in the hole. No room for error from this point on. He had to be tack sharp (!). Instead: “Tell us about your adventures on the sea. *The* Sea.”

“The Cube?” Uncle Stinky shot back, like a cannon on a ship of military design. “*The* Cube?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” George A. answered back. He turned and explained to the court that the Blue Feather Sea is often called the Blue Feather Cube or just “The Cube” by locals of the area. He doesn’t go into detail. He turns and asks a follow up. “Do you know about The Mermaid? The Mermaid at the bottom of said Sea? Or Cube?”

“Yeah, sure. But we on the western side of the sea call it The Porpoise.”

“Um — you mean The Jellyfish.”

“Objection,” barked defense attorney Cat-Witch behind him. “The prosecutor is leading the witness.”

“Overruled.” Tronesisia was fair if antiquated. She would see the truth through, like a bloodhound. “Answer the question, Mr. Stinky.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0510, Blue Feather Sea^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Toppsity^

NWES City

“Yes I remember now. It was called the Red Rose and I was Peter (Peet) at the time. Before the explosion that destroyed Club 88, you see, and accompanying Little Jimmy, the lesser boom. This would have been, oh, ’88 I think?”

“’98,” corrected Venus Flytrap, by his side all this time, an Ant to his Uncle. “But what about *my* place, the bar (across the street). Noodle?”

“It appears so,” Axis aka TronAxis replied. “And the battymobile was still intact,” he added, zooming into the garage of the building now. “Mr. Fix It was fixing it up.”

“Perfect,” responded Venus. “It all makes sense now. Red Rose; Marty; The Lamb/Ram fusion (Rupert). We must then inquire about Legos.”

“Later,” requested Axis. They had enough for the moment.


Marty and Harry’s son.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0510, Apple's Orchard, Jeogeot^^, NWES Island^

Trek

After resolving the triangle they all flew over in the U.S.S. Cuthand to observe and inspect the Mansfield Mansion of Port Mansfield. “Elephants here too,” Pickard pointed out after landing.

“Rainbow… pot of gold. That be what you’re looking for maties.” He laughed, then, at his feigned accent. Shakespearean actors, seethed the Cpt., painting the kettle black. Speck remained neutral and calm and collected on the subject. “And where, dear Cpt. (he looks right toward Pickard instead of the Cpt. here), are the ants?”

Pickard put his hand to his ear, dramatically again. “Listen,” he hissed. “Listen to the drums.”

Speck and the Cpt. then heard them, fading in louder and louder. Deafening if close. The music from Thumper’s Bar, high high above them. High as a kite.

Now at the top, they both stare at the spectacle, wondering how he did this. Occultism!

“Listen!!” he roared over the blasts, hand still to ear.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0018, 0510, Corsica^^, Southeast^

“Countdown”

A series of pictures inside.

But what Duncan found really curious was the seeming resonance with the 100 Story Building still present as of this writing over in the Kowloon sim, understood through notes supplied by his employer (PotD). Specifically Story/Room 87 and its own symbols of billiard balls: stools representing 8, 3, 2, and then also the 1, but with that particular seat covered by a laptop with a prominent XVideos sticker. We’ve talked about them before in this earlier post of this here photo-novel (17).

Note the visible stools 8, 3, and 2 add up to 13 again. Something is hidden or covered up in each case, the Great Deceiver in action.

Duncan, then, has a plan. He feels his time in The Waste is over, East-West loss exposed. Much like this particular version of Kowloon’s 100 story building has served its function and is scheduled to be demolished in a day or two or so. He will *sit* in that room, waiting for the end. Then dust himself off in the rubble after the 87 story fall and move on from there.

He decides to write a song about the experience to mark the time.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0510, 100 Story Building, Kowloon^^, The Waste^^

Big Shift

Soon he had reached the end of his Abbey Road on the west edge of Vail.

One step further…

… and he was in a different place altogether now. Vila. Uncle Zach was (again: miraculously!) waiting for him in his Calypso Tuk Tuk Taxi.

“Where to, Butt?” He meant bud. Or did he?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0510, Gaston^^, Purden/Snowlands^

ruby key

“The alleyway is a keyboard,” spoke Marion Harding, deep in a ganja trance.

“What’s that Mario… Marion?” Philip Strevor — professional pill popper.

“Middle…

…C”

—–

“I’d like to buy this place from you Pizza Boy II. I’d like to build a door about right over…

…there.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0015, 0510, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Pipersville/Sink X^

Northerners

“Whale! Squid!” She waits a beat. “Whale!” She waits a beat longer.

“Do you want me to make any more?” questions Shallot’s brother Jinn by her side, knife in hand.”

“Aww, no use. Chinatown is not what’s the happening place tonight. *Everyone* is up at the Seraph Club exploring Dean Martin!”

“Martin and Lewis this week,” agrees the more English fluent Jinn. “Rowan and Martin the next. Then after that, who knows. Maybe that Mr. Rowan Atkinson Bean who is so popular on television these days. If patterns hold,” he furthers.

“Too true brother.” They wait again.

“I’ll take one.” It was Jenny (future Your Mama), approaching from the bowels of the sub-town, fellow Pipersvillian Todd A. in tow. Trinkets filled her small backpack.

“Whale or squid?” Shallot asked expectantly.

“Don’t let her tell you that’s whale,” blabbers Jinn. “It’s a shark substitute. But shark (name) doesn’t sell as good as whale.”

“It’s *not* shark, Jinn.” returns an annoyed Shallot. “It’s just… a different kind of whale.”

“I’ll take it,” responds Jenny, looking up at Todd A. “Whatever — both of them.”

——

Then, around the corner, Jenny leans against the side of a building and opens the 2 containers, one after another, studying the contents in each.

“You’re not going to actually eat that are you?” queries Todd in front of her. “Because I’m sure not.”

“Nah.” She throws the food into a nearby gutter. “Just wanted to see what these Southerners eat.”

“Southerners,” grumbled Todd A. with her, and they moved away from Chinatown after that with only plastic souvenirs.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0014, 0510, Cassandra City^, Maebaleia/Satori^^