“I’m glad you’re black again, Parasol. Now I can get rid of that White Elvis hairdoo. Back to the old self, ahh!” He settles back in his beach chair, taking in the waves.
“How about the ant? There’s always the ant to deal with. Ant,” Parasol by his side reinforces.
The Mann looks from the waves up to the mountains. “I’ll deal with that later.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0020, 0505, Corsica, Northwest
“It’s a good strawberry shake. I wish we could have enjoyed such a shake while growing up.”
“What do you mean?” asked Poetry, truly confused in the moment.
Parasol changed, staring sideways at… “What did you say the name of that movie was?”
“‘Hot Rod Girl,'” Poetry said, not noticing the change and responding to earlier conversation.
“Another thing I could not enjoy.”
Poetry noticed the change.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0020, 0504, HANA LEI
She was trying to determine an exact year here in this place. “Hot Rod Girl”: she remembered that film from the early 60’s — maybe late 50s. But she wasn’t allowed to go to such a racy flick. Some said there was a bit of nudity involved (!).
A black lady in the nearby pink diner. Black people are not allowed in this diner. Not in the early 60s, and certainly not in the late 50s. She gathered she was about 18 or so, or about the same age as herself. Her profile picks led Poetry to this sign which she also didn’t understand, being from the past and all. A relic.
Well of course Black Lives Matter, thought Poetry at the time. That’s why we made them separate but equal (!). She wanders into the gallery of the woman, named Eight. Was Eight code for a gang member? A revolutionary? She’d heard of such people. The single name of a letter or a number came to her mind. She was becoming more ensconced in time. 1921 may be next…
She was looking for particular evidence that would support her now outdated slant on reality. Could she snap out of it?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0020, 0503, HANA LEI
The jazz and beatnik club known as The Dive was actually just a front for the numbers station in a secret room below the establishment. An old bomb shelter. Charlie Banana became humanized after being successfully contacted by Poetry Dancer. They listened to the artful tunes of D.J. Marty, still intent on finding out whether Yoko was a good or bad witch. We’d determined that Mid-Hazel was the real manipulator behind the scenes. Another All the Numbers situation, most likely. He played his Pepper album both forwards and backwards at once to attempt to create a third, higher perspective. Lt. Salt entered the club and killed them all bought them all drinks. It was an unexpected result.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0020, 0502, HANA LEI
Okay, she’d finally found something that interested her in the past. A numbers station, broadcasting all the figures. She could call somebody! She first thought of Charlie Banana, an old lover. Good ol’ Charlie. Peach of a guy. But then a Siamese cat suddenly landed on the table from somewhere on high and talked to her instead. Wrong Charlie contacted (mentally). He said she’d missed something in Paperville and that she needed to return. Thinking the cat meant her blue-green shoes, she stated to it she’d already retrieved them, and plopped them on the table in front of him to gander at. As you can see, she’d also bought a matching dress in the meantime to fit in better with the past all around her.
Was it the shoes? the God-like cat thought, still ready to fill a void if needed. But now Axis was in control of Paperville. Poetry Dancer here’s brother, or maybe former brother. And then there’s lover Barry X. Vampire. She desires the past, though. Charlie Banana. All the numbers. He better say the shoes were what he was thinking of and take his leave; regroup; try to find another angle (of communication). The past is the past, though. No changing or altering it. That’s why he doesn’t like to go there — here. No malleability; he likes malleability. Change. Flow. The Siamese cat takes its leave.
“I’ll leave you with the other Charlie,” it said/meowed/purred to Poetry. “It’s my mistake; that was the Charlie you desired in the moment. Not me. My bad,” it apologized again, and then wondered if he was overdoing it.
Charlie poofed out. Another Charlie poofed in. All the numbers.
“Hi doll baby.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0020, 0501, HANA LEI
“Well. That looks like it for Collagesity in Nautilus, Hucka Doobie. Can’t upgrade beyond a 8192 here any more. Only way to expand is to move to Urqhart.”
“Or thereabouts,” amended Hucka. “Not *quite* in Urqhart.”
“Close enough,” responds the male Baker, perhaps soon to be sole owner of this downsized Collagesity if things swing back the other way. Wheeler Wilson will be out on her high heels. I wonder what that would do to the somewhat diminished town moving forward? Will Carrcassonnee fully return? *Can* she? With perhaps help from relative newcomer and fellow one eyed monster Frank, for example? Trouble is, there might not be a Temple of TILE to house them, if so.
Bottom line: I have an 11924 in Urqhart or thereabouts to play around with or else sell again in the next several weeks, probably for at least the same amount I bought it. Only thing risked, really, is increase of tier for the month. But like the RL wife said, it’s all for art. Why not? Not much of a risk at all in the bigger picture.
But the sale could be the 8192 in Nautilus. Here.
In my estimation, Hucka Doobie is plotting to eradicate Wheeler from the picture: push the fusion of Collagesity and NWES City and the at least partial absorption of the former into the latter, kind of like what was planned for Collagesity and VHC City several years back in the story of photo-novel 4. We’ll see if Baker Bloch/Barry X. Vampire listens close enough.
“The story of Mainland remains downsizing,” she continues in her urgings. “NWES City is an anomaly in that way. We *must* latch onto that energy. The signs are there.”
“Oesso signs,” replies Baker Bloch, also thinking of the newest collage set in NWES City and its perpetual window. To what, though?
Star?
I think it might be swinging.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0019, 0517, Collagesity Fordham-, Jeogeot, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Neptune, NWES Island
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.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0019, 0516, Corsica, Urqhart
“I want to be a Bonham or a *Moon*, but not necessarily a *Star(r)*. What did Uncle Axis say, exactly?”
“You better ask your mother about all that. It was *her* brother.”
“Okay. I will.” Then she put down her fork only to pick it up again. “As soon as I finish eating this superbly delicious meal Ross C. prepared for us.”
“Thank you, child,” robot maid Ross C. cooed from just around the corner, humming with pleasure.
—–
“I’m *sure* SEAN “Green” Penn won’t mind me borrowing his row row row boat while he’s gone to New Orleans again. Maybe I should have gone with him. Gotten away from thinking about the Big Inside — too much time on my hands without him, etc.” She looks straight ahead and aims the boat accordingly. “Sure hope mom and Charlie aren’t at it again, like the last time I dropped in. How embarrassing!”
—–
“Yes, that sounds like Uncle Axis,” responded Marsha “Pink” Krakow’s mother Parasol (Krakow?). “By the way, I forgive you for telling your father about us.” She looked back at Charlie Banana, eating yet another of his kind. “Sure, sure,” he mumbles with mouth full of yellow. “Tell your (swallow), dad, that its the best thing that happened to us. The sex is truly *amazing* now with all the guilt going on.” He stared at Parasol again. “Not that it wasn’t *amazing* before, um.”
Now white Parasol turns to her daughter again. “Just go back and tell your father that you’re okay, I’m okay, we’re all okay. The Big Inside is just a dream. You were dreaming, dear. Dr. Baumbeer has been dead in his grave oh, about, 5 months now. 1/2 bat (and here Parasol laughs) — I don’t *believe* in monsters, sea *or* sky.”
“I saw one,” spoke over Charlie Banana again while peeling one more. “I’ve lived on the water, this houseboat, all my adult life. “I’ve seen ’em.” *bite*
“Oh stop it.”
—–
And with this Marsha “Pink” Krakow returned to her “Good Side” of Storybrook mansion, convinced the session with the resurrected Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer was all in her head. Wrongly, of course.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0019, 0515, Corsica, Storybrook-
Per the good doctor’s recommendation — no surprise here — she stared at the tv static for what seemed like ages, trying to make sense of the appearing and disappearing shapes. After a while, she heard what was suppose to be the observing doctor snoring behind her. He must have been out for a while, she deduced from the still undrunk milk. And here I am, trying to *remember* so hard.
She turned back to the static and cleared her throat *loudly*. Dr. Baumbeer sat up with a start, mumbling. “S-so, ahem, how’s, er, it going dear? Are — are you remembering anything? Anything at all?”
“No. Thanks. Not yet. I think we should end for the night. I need to get back home to my parents.”
“Oh that’s right. You probably think you’re — WELL, how old do you think you are, Marsha?”
Marsha knew she was a star now. She’d gotten that far. But the overlapping timelines still confused. “15?” she guessed.
“Well then you better run along! Dinner is probably getting cold at your house. I trust you know the way out.”
Marsha knew there was only one entrance to this second floor room. *Oh*, she needs to ask about her uncle, and why this building is the same as the one in NWES. She does.
“Your Uncle Ally or your Uncle Axis?” returned Dr. Baumbeer, attempting a weak joke. “They didn’t get along; that’s actually where the timelines split. For all of us.”
“Axis, I think. I don’t recall an Uncle Ally.”
“Yes, that would explain it,” and he sat back and folded his hands behind his head while gazing blankly upward with his still spectacled eyes. Soon he was snoring again. Marsha “*Pink*” Krakow left him alone now.
—-
“Oh just stop it.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0019, 0514, Apple's Orchard, Corsica, Jeogeot, NWES Island, Storybrook-
“What’s so secret?” But the girls just tittered and waved her on.
She entered…
—–
“Pardon the mess, fellow patients,” spoke the revived Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, fairly fresh from a grave and sporting a protective bat covering now. He decides to explain his resurrection first. Good idea. Let’s listen in.
—–
“They had to go back to conception and take out half the rabbit and replace it with half bat, which removed the attached rat(s). My parents had to cooperate. They’re not dead because of it but let’s just say they’ll be incapacitated for a while. Resurrection takes energy! But here I am — *voila* (he indicates his renewed body here). Waiting to get your ideas about how to manifest true center again in NWES City.”
“Storybrook,” corrected Marsha “Pink” Krakow from the door, unseen until now.
“Oh.” He turns and peers at her intently. “So you’re on *that* timeline. WELL (he glances back)… you must think me a raving *lunatic* for talking to a bunch of empty chairs! Why don’t you join me. Marsha *Star* Krakow.”
“You know my name?”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0019, 0513, Apple's Orchard, Corsica, Jeogeot, NWES Island, Storybrook-
Sunklands 