Category Archives: 0510

00280510

Hatti the witch disappeared from the cell block. Across the aisle, fellow prisoner Patrick McDonnelhany’s head turned into a pen. Or pencil — hard to tell from this distance, Stu Umbriel thought. He turned around as well, tried to look beyond the frame by facing it squarely. No luck. He remained panicked and in character. Fern Stalin spoke.

“We are at 42, Stu. The Answer. Are you ready?”

Was he? He looked to the right. He looked to the left. No escape. He was as ready as he’d ever be. Which was never.

—–

“The director is dead,” she deadpanned to Chef-inspector Petty upstairs. “Killed in the Biker Bar and Grilling explosion day before Sunday of week before last month’s Tuesday. Do you recall?”

Or course he recalled, he thinks. He was first on the scene, picking at the bones and flesh of the unfortunate victims. Like Hank Graphite and his gorilla bodyguard; like Ted 02 the half android cyclops; like family challenged Sugar McDermit and bar owner Biker Mann. And then: Biker Chick, also known as Chuck Cheese also known as Heidi, formerly Penn Mann. The director of this here photo-novel, 28 in a series of infinity apparently (ha). We’ve been without direction, then, since, let’s see, post 0280110. Quite near the beginning, then. Fern says all of this to Chef-inspector Petty, omniscient narrator in the moment. Could have been before she went downstairs to the cell block, could’ve been afterwards. Doesn’t matter in the moment.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0510, Paper Soap

more Paper…

The description just said “Shadow Girl”.

“Alysha?” he called up.

Then she was there with him, staring into what appeared to be the heart of the swamp taking up a big chunk of the sim. Chunkey was its name; perhaps a Chuckey within, without the “n” this time. Alysha would know. He asked her.

“Yellow fellow,” she replied, noting the sun was coming up. Soon safe to move.

“Yellow?” He looked over at Alysha, noted her race.

She took the note and ran with it. “Not that kind of yellow. Say you had a soda, you shook it up. What would happen?”

Kolya imagined an explosion. He said this.

“Correct. Imagine this explosion *inside* someone.”

—–

She turned shadowy again. Kolya followed her out into the swamp itself, from whence she came.

He understood she was receding. Only armed with a minimal amount of info (probably enough, though), he was on his own again. In this Paper-y sim that this time wasn’t either Paperweight or Paper itself. A different Paper.

On to the sim rim swamp shack.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0510, Hana Lei^^

Duncan’s hidden

Go to the temple of the tor now, she commanded again. Would Alysha listen this time? Before, she had teleported directly into the ship, enthralled by its shadow. But maybe she could escape the shadow this time and come into the light. “Jasper,” she spoke. “The turtle’s name is Jasper, not Meanie,” she said later on when the shades were drawn again because of the intense sunlight. Too close to a Star, dancing to the beat of a different drum. “Maybe a Moon this time,” said Dr. Paul Mouse, still with switch in hand, if not a kane. Close enough. And a reddish rear was nearby too, plopped painfully on a central log and not facing away from a wall no longer. He will get his revenge.

Peter Oesso strolled down the beach, looking for shells. Shellman some called him. Then he found a miniature Venus of Willendorf and we were on our way…

—–

That’s not a beaver down there, Dr. Mouse.” STOP

“Oh yes it is.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0510, Amazon

house on the hill

“Hi. I’m here to fix the toilet?”

“Oh stop it Dany. Dany without the extra N. Do you know who I even am? Do you know who you are?”

“I’m Danny,” answers Dany, not remembering the missing N for the moment. Tools of the trade in hand, he had his mind set on righting a bathroom today. Blood was mentioned in the phone call he received. Probably clotting. He was confident he could solve it all with his trusty plunger. He told this to Keith B., who we haven’t seen in this here blog and attached photo-novels in a while, at least several back.

“Listen,” Keith B. responded as a tangent. “Listen to the naked man play the piano so wonderfully, like a Little Steve.” Keith B. spoke directly to the naked man playing the piano, hidden in the above photo by Dany. “Do you know Little Steve Wonderful, Schumann? Schumann with an extra N?”

The playing stopped. It was the infamous Booger T. Hayes mention all over, minus the scream (I think). After a weighted pause, the music began again, fingers flying even more rapidly. But not a lilting piece this time. Something gross and confusing and inept; heavy handed. Aberrant if you will. A.B.

“The diamond lies outside the head,” spoke Dany, suddenly in a trance as the notes flew around the room like dark, radar-less bats. In fact they were bats; at the time.

“Good, good,” Keith B. spoke over the weird music and attached wing flapping. “So you know the problem now. The *real* issue. Not… some stupid toilet overflowing with blood thing… although we need that fixed too if you don’t mind.”

“Not atall!”

—–

“I’m finally done sir. It was a clot after all. I had to rinse the blood out of my mop 17 times to get it clean. I won’t charge you for that.”

“Good, Danny with an extra N,” spoke pleased Keith B., bats or bat-like notes having receeded and Schuman (without the extra N now) on the couch with him wrapped in blanket. “Do you play board games by chance?” he then ventured, staring more intensely at the blonde youth. “I think we should play a board game next. Weegee — just under the table there. If you don’t mind — back acting up and all,” he excused himself for not bending down to retrieve. He just wanted to see if Danny was still following orders, though. Because if the N returns to Schuman: he’s done for the day.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0510, Pickleland

you are what you hear

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0510, Maebaleia/Satori^^, X-City^

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^