Category Archives: 0510

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, 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, 0510, 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, 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, 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, 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, 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, 0510, Cassandra City, Maebaleia/Satori^^

more

So many Jacks to think about now in 7 Stones.

Now which one of these dueling dudes is Jack? questioned apparent town leader Woody in his head.

Oh yeah: both of ’em.

And Jean Fade even indicated perpetually digging Salazar is a Jack as well, owner/creator of an ancient mythology detailing where Linden (Lime) World and World of Lemon originally split off from each other, one going forwards and the other heading backwards in space/time.

Fascinating.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0510, Lower Austra, Nautilus^^

Burnt Too

It was almost dark when she reached the service station in the opposite corner of the Burnt Oak sim from her. Now the *only * service station in the area. Look at these two, Sally Spark O Naut thought. People must be desperate for gas. Knowing (the other) Sally like I do, she’s dispensing it in ways to cause the most pain for everyone around. In turn: poor, desperate Sally.

She goes around the front of the building.

“Sally? It’s me. Sally. You here?”

Hmph. Cleaned out as well.

Only the meat remains.

 

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0510, The Waste^^

treed

Marion Harding sometimes went back to Unity Pond where the breakdowns were first noted. No sign of them today, however. Maybe they went away? Doubtful, though, he then realized, taking a last toke before throwing away the remainer of his joint into the murky waters. The abberations would return.

He had smoked enough. Time to meet Golden Joe in the tree.

—–

“Rubles. Barney Rubles,” the golden head answered to Marion Harding’s first question in his deep, ghetto voice, which was: “What do I do with the ring, the core?” Maybe he didn’t phrase it succinctly enough (even though he did). He tried again, simpler this time. “Why am I here?” Golden Joe sprouted closer to him out of the tree limb so that he could look directly into Marion’s eyes. “Let’s talk more face to face, man. Marion Man.”

—–

Golden Joe winked out again. The tree changed. Marion could feel the energy elevate all around him. He stood up to take in the panorama. Various types of different, colorful plants had sprung out of its limbs now.

Marion felt he was home. Home at last. Not the fishing shack over in Horizons-Spica. But here. He must remember this feeling later, he said to himself. Don’t forget. Don’t forget.

He walked down the limb he was on into one of the tree’s main joints. A patio appeared to his left, connected to it by a long, descending ramp. All was translucent green crystal.

Someone called. “Marion, I’m down here, bud!” Distinctly the voice of Golden Joe again, but more feminine and less Godly and booming. Matching more the full name of the, er, character, he realized: Josephine.

Lured by the summon, Marion headed downward. He’d have to also remember the blend of pot he was smoking today, a weaving he called it while improvising the mix. Good work me!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0510, Capitol City^, Gaeta V^^