Category Archives: 0516

where’s the beef?

If we could just recreate the original crime scene. Pigeon roosting on ass; Amanda Stoorm placing an ultra important call to Buster Damm.

Call? Looks like we just did. Duncan Avocado brings it home.

—–

“I knew you’d be here, Ginger. Because of the face replacement clinic and all.”

“500 lindens for a whole new look. Worth every penny!”

“Yes, you look great, you look fantastic.” Could Duncan date a high class white chick like this and get away with it in this town, this place in the center of it all? It would be controversial. Maybe *he* should get an operation. He knows a certain Dr. of Mouse who might be able to help. He ponders the outcome, black to white. But is he running away from his heritage because of that? He’s *tired* of being discriminated upon, but he’s in the same boat with the rest of his color. He can’t date fair, red haired Wendy down at Mac’s Diner either for the same reason, that damn white racist rat Pansy watching over it all. If only he could get rid of the Pooping Pigeon franchise, maybe create a reality where Wendy branches out on her on, dumps the hot dog angle, and goes all in for burger. Pure Angus beef; not those ridiculous fillers for the dog like lips and genitalia, even if that isn’t quite true. People could be trained to *think* that.

And that’s what he decided that day in the late of May or early June or whatever. Kill the Hot Dog, stick a pigeon on its rump and call it done. Killer Andrea Stoorm, trained in the Death Star battalions, knew what to do, Buster guiding her and then Buster telling Duncan what actually happened. “We manipulated probabilities in that Middletown alley that day in early May.” “June,” I corrected, but understood it all now. There was only one actual killing, the other 5 being deflections or subterfuge. Although it still thrived in other realities, in this one the Pooping Pigeon was over almost before it started, with Pansy behind bars behind a bar instead.

“What’ll it be Duncan, my man?” Always the “man” for the black dude, he observed. But at least he still played his old music here.

And now: Hidi.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0516, Eveningwood, Nautilus^^, Slaashsides

confluence 02

“How did it go today, sister of mine?”

“She is *definitely* one of us,” Daisy Mae Flowers replied to Lou Ferrig No, not seen in this blog for a while. Not heavily since photo-novel 4, when she interacted with The Musician in her own, similar realm of Bermingham and took care of his pet dingo for a while, if memory serves — maybe still does.

“That’s great, yes. Can’t wait to meet her. Staying in Shauna’s room I assume?”

“Yes. The snow monsters have her now.”

“Nice — I suppose. I mean, the snow monsters aren’t *that* bad, I’ve heard.”

“They’ve killed 3 million people!” exclaimed Daisy Mae, pushing a popular myth about the actually quite decent blizzard creatures.

“Nah, not what I’ve heard. Do you still get your news from FOX?”

“Lets not go into all that sister.”

“I’m just saying, *dingo* is better — all small letters in that case. Small is for humble; truthful.”

Daisy Mae looked away from her sister, not wanting to start an argument that had no end and would most definitely spiral into the Abyss. She’d seen enough of the Abyss. Instead: “She’s met David A.B. here, the normal one. What I mean…”

“What you *mean*…” continued the sister, “is that he’s not the Devil.”

“No, he’s the God,” agreed Daisy now with her sibling. “At least he *thinks* he’s one.” Both titter with this. They act in unison again.

—–

It was a long time ago and it happened in the theatre below the castle. It was a round concavity full of something but not popcorn this time. Instead: brains, specifically the diamond like brains of David/Dave, who had not chosen a moral direction yet. The victim slumped opposite him. Keith B. most likely, who subsequently acquired his own new brain from… well, let’s just keep some things private for now. The man they called The Barber sings a tuneful song of familiar design while he works.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0516, Pickleland

X-City church 02

“A marriage,” A Mann suddenly said behind her, unseen before and sitting in the front pew. Duplicates again!

“Marriage to who?” Tessa ventured, getting bolder now. She could punch through his face and draw back a brain if she wished. She’d done it before with a coke machine.

“A Womann,” came the response. Kate, or the thing that appeared to be Kate, halted for a moment, hands raised from the keys. Tessa half suspected the singing would begin now, but it never did, the chorus remaining frozen in their spots, blue books still open. She could go check on the name of the composition in it, she realized. Kate’s too — from the score on the organ’s music stand; if there was one.

There wasn’t. The blue choral books proved more fruitful. Handel it truly was! But which part of the “Messiah” was Kate playing? Not the same one as this more familiar bit here. Maybe from the Easter part?

The marriage was beginning. A Mann united with A Womann in holy matrimony. But where was the minister?

“Madam, I’m Adam,” said A Mann.

“A Man, A Plan, A Canal…” said A Womann.

“Panama!” they exclaimed together. Tessa woke up.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0516, Maebaleia/Satori^^, X-City^

Sunkland Institute’s Blue Feather

If only they could have brought the ocean all the way up to the docks here and made NWES City a true port, thinks Baker Bloch, staring out at same. Maybe Sammie Parr, Tenty, the rest could have been saved, maybe the Black Ice Market here would still be thriving and providing talky tubes for beloved pets, etc. He sighs, turns.

If Spunky’s also goes that may be it for this side of town. And if one part crumbles then the rest fall as well, all 4 jigsaw pieces. And that means the 5th, orange, Sunklands Institute in effect, will be meaningless too. Might as well move it back to Iris, then; Bella (squirrel) could have proved that.

Speaking of which, I must get to the Blue Feather meeting over there, called specifically because of new developments in Bella, Belle- seri… sare… whatever (think “Bell is serial”, baker b.!).

—–

“So you see,” he says a bit later at the meeting, comprised of himself, Wheeler Wilson, Grassy Noll, Chef-Detective Keat Owens, and Gordie Down (formerly Curled Paper), just like before, “this wheel of avatars found by Bixyl — lemme see (Baker squints at the media feed), looks like Shuftan — occurred just after the completion of photo-novel 22, the one prior to the current one.”

“Hi!” repeats “Winesap” reading, light bulb headed Gordie Down. Baker and the others look at him, jointly wondering if he’s ever going to become a functional member of The Table they all sit around and participate in. Baker also makes a mental note here to get those apples for him as requested by Wheeler.

“Yes, hello once again, Gordie.” Baker decides to try to prod more out of him. “What do *you* think of this circle or wheel, Gordie? Do you think it represents the nodal photo-novels 1-4-7-10-13-16-19-22, like we talked about before? At the time, Wheelhouse (sim) was at the top of the developing continent and Wheeler (sim) at the bottom. This circle was created just over from Wheelhouse. We think it’s All Orange, Gordie (Wheeler and Grassy nod in agreement), but… what about you?”

“Hellooo!”

No success on that front! They’ll try again another night.


Baker discussing the same concept with dummy Chef-Detective Keat Owens in photo-novel 22.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0516, Apple's Orchard, Bellisaria^^, Black Ice, NWES Island^

eerie birth

“Here’s what we have so far, then. Saints Joseph and Mary *combine*, see, at (Fort) Wayne, which creates the Great Black Swamp, the same as Jesus but blacker.”

“And that’s where TILE comes in,” I speculate from behind the batty-mobile, since there was no remaining room up front. “SID, I mean there.”

“Yes. The Great Black Swamp had to be drained by tiling, which had very positive effects short term but less so long-wise. Little Oakley Annie could now travel easily to Defiance formerly in the center of the swamp to purchase more bullets for her shootings back in the day but later she pays in a different way. We are trying to control the eventual damage — that’s part of all this.”

“And the mouth at Toledo is — the vulva?” I theorize further. “John (Bob) Denver would not be happy.” I snicker; not returned.

“The Abyss is the Mother,” half rabbit, half bat Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer replies pedantically, citing some dry and unmemorable TILE document now that I can’t recall the exact name of. “The Unknown, The Void, The *Static*,” he continues with the synonyms and analogies. He could have gone on for some time, I realize.

I stand even further back, almost against the far wall of the garage-room now trying to take it all in. Professor Art and his train car were turned sideways to begin, which also turns the splayed figure in the center of it all that way as well. Fort Wayne — birth of Rainbowology and the fusion of Oz and Floyd. The Great Blackness (etc.). But then at Toledo: light! Birth. Between the open legs of the mother. Newton from Jasper. It all added up to… we go from nowhere to…

“And the train car is Black Ice,” Baumbeer tacks on while turning toward the back of the garage. But that part behind the batty-mobile’s tail end remains unclear and ill defined.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0516, Apple's Orchard, NWES Island^

0516

Exploring the city again…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0516, Black Ice, Jeogeot^^, NWES Island^

smoking buddies

“What do you think, Charlie?” strumming Roger Pine Ridge asked about his new song. “It’s a little more optimistic than my usual fare,” he explains further. “Call it ‘(Life is a) Beach’. Grass and Flip requested it — something more upbeat and lighter to work on, they told me. So I’m just writing about where I am. Right now in my life. Here. Just gotta think of some rhymes to go along with the the music.”

“Fine, fine,” states Charlie, only half listening, with the other half thinking about Margret, aka Poetry. Where was she tonight? Still stuck back in time, in the past. 1950’s still? Maybe even back — dare I think of it — to 1921? Where does that leave *me*? With Aloha? What the hell is Aloha?

Stopping the motion of his pick, Roger picked up on his friend’s concerns. “Don’t worry about Poetry, Charlie Banana. Where there’s a wall there’s a bridge. He starts the song over again, synchronistically thinking of another chord progression he could add to complete the bridge and the music as a whole.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0516, Heterocera^^, Iris^

Barry X. Vampire

I have a chance to return, finish my novel. “The Spinning Tire.” “The Revolving Wheel.” Still working on it. Still working on the text. I should talk to Buddy about it, the butler.

—–

“Wait, you’re Alberta.”

“Correct, sir. Did you enjoy the Great Belt?”

“Umm.”

“Did I tell you I am a butler and my original home was Butler? In Pennsylvania of the US of A.”

“Yes, I think you mentioned it. But what about *Urqhart*? We’re in Greater Urqhart, true. But if I choose to buy that land, or *retain* that land, we’ll be right in the heart of things. Green, Alberta. The land is so green. It feels like home to me. I’m not sure about Baker Bloch, though. I think he’d like to downsize and keep things in Fordham over on that arid Nautilus ridge. Obviously I’d like the opposite — seems like it. What — how do you weigh in, Alberta? You’re a trusted friend, and you know the area. What about that dried up body of water over there, Sox Pond and Indian Lake combined? Seems like that’s enough to keep me — us — in the area and away from Nautilus.”

“I think sir, considering all the possible pathways, that there is no true wrong decision at this point. And NWES —”

“Ah yes. NWES. Export of bits and pieces of Collagesity into that still growing, massive burg. Fast becoming the Tokyo of Mainland, Our Second Lyfe it is.”

“Marty is there,” suggested Alberta. “But also Marty is *here*.”

—–

You can start with the house; build out from that.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0516, Corsica^^, Urqhart^

deep end

She tried to decide how to position herself when he entered the store. Should she be staring at the eggs? Away, perhaps at the closed or opened door on the other side? What would be more dramatic? What would be more *correct*?

She’d been rehearsing for weeks. “Formosa,” she declared down to him confidently at another time — perhaps he is sitting on the ground before her in a compliant position — “is a LOST island as well. *I*, Kate McCoy, formerly little Katy Kidd of Benangatron, have decided to *avow* my responsibilities to that supposedly responsible island. I *do not* want to be chained down by Big Government — unable to roam about freely.” She does a couple of rapid model poses to emphasize freedom of motion. In her mind, he stares up, a slave to her every tantalizing move.

Eventually, they would get to the eggs, and the sale thereof. “5000 lindens for *one*,” she spoked firmly. “And I get to choose. They’re all the same magical being but still — my choice.”

“Um,” he uttered rather helplessly, knowing that would about clean out his bank account. How would he eat for the next week? The eggs certainly weren’t food. And who knows what the magical being inside really was. Would it be yet *another* mouth to feed? Still — he felt he had no choice. He nodded, clicking on her and depositing 5000 into her own Our Second Lyfe account. She smiled, but not in a good way. She owned the boy now.

He left with the egg to now unbridled cackling behind him.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0018, 0516, Corsica^^, Egg Hill Sink^

price to pay

—–

“I can’t believe it,” Guy Benjamin exclaimed a little later to Grandmama after she broke the news. “Grandpapa’s dead!”

“Did in with his own cane,” she explained, her voice starting to waver. “The old fool.” She was inconsolable for months, maybe years. Axis had done a bad thing. A bad bad thing. We must reexamine the ultimate motives of his character in light of this horrendous act.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0017, 0516, Kowloon^^