Category Archives: 0605

00360605

“Why the tire beside the front porch?”

“It reminds me of a past time in another location. Full of junk like that. I had to sit on a tire based concoction to do my business, for example.”

“Good good,” I assuaged. Seems like this is going in the right direction for a sale. Now to the price. “50 lindens,” I said.

“A month?” Herbert Gold shot back.

“Well, no. A week. It’s a fabulous view…”

“… that could be blocked by a neighbor’s structure any day now, any hour.”

Gold had a point. “A month, then,” I said. What was money in this town, straight or curvy? Didn’t matter. “Just don’t tell the other renters I gave you such a deal.”

He made a zipping motion over his lips, indicating he understood. Mum’s the word.

“And April Mae Flowers too — whenever she shows up.”

“I’ll tell her,” he said. “But she likes to go by Lovey now. Ever since the theft of our identities back in (photo-novel) 34. To help differentiate *us* Golds from *them* Golds. Gold City Golds,” he clarified. “Like in Gilligham’s Island,” he said about her new name. “And me…”

“Yes, Thurston. Backus,” I refined, taking it to another level and indicating the actor who played the super rich Thurston Howler the Third beyond the character. Descended from monkeys they were, as we all are. Their fictional surnames just indicate a closer connection than most.

“And,” said Gold. “She *is* lovely. That’s not just a name borrowed from some hack 60s sitcom.”

Back in the day maybe, I think here. “Of course,” I said aloud.

“We want to clear our names, make ourselves good, even model citizens in the eyes of others here. Who have we got so far?”

“Five,” I said, indicating a number instead of names. Because it was really only 3, and I was counting the Howlers as chickens before they hatched. Because he hadn’t given a definitive “yes” yet.

“Counting us?” Ahh, prescient a bit, I think here, pondering whether this was a good character trait or bad character trait. How far goes the mind reading? I decided to think of a number; see if he could guess.”

“Are you thinking seven, then?”

He immediately went further back in darkness with this, fear taking over. He could be returning as some sort of saint but he definitely had been a sinner. True to his name, though, he was certainly valuable, gold if not platinum. Because we wanted to stay away from platinum this time. That was the direction of The End.

I extended my hand for a shake. He put a chocolate chip one in it, prepared and hiding in a back pocket for just this moment. I remained confused if this sealed the deal or not until I drank it later back at the Blue Feather and found a fifty dollar bill at the bottom of the cup. 1st month’s rent. The Golds are bona fide Somocons.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0605, Jeogeot, Middleton^, Towerboro

over the hedge

I’m going to beat the crap out of that girl.

—–

Before taking a shower, Shelley writes in her journal.

Day 2 in The Void.
I have determined that George, formerly Debbie’s George, is the same as my own.
We are destined to be together.
I don’t know where the other is.

She pulls away from the screen, looks at what she wrote. She knows there is another but can’t recall who. It is someone dark… black, even, like the shadow side of a planet.

Her phone rings. It’s Arthur. Arthur! she thinks while trying to figure out how to answer like in a receiver. That’s who I was thinking of. And he must have been thinking of me! She figures it out, puts the correct end to her mouth. “Hallo?”

“Are you ready?”

Ready for what? she thinks. Oh. The shower. Testing water pressure and all, let’s say.

“Yes.”

“Go ahead and I’ll meet you over there.”

“Oh.” Disappointment?

“Shelley?”

“Yes… Arthur.”

“Arthur? You haven’t called me *that* in a while. Do you, erm, do you even know where you are? Where I am? Where we’re going?”

She admitted she didn’t. She was in The Void for real. And she didn’t even have the necklace this time, giving it to a repairman in the garage outside in order to pay for her car. Broke carburetor. “It’ll cost you as much as the car itself,” Ken said through the window, watching her dig dig dig in her pocketbook for cash, red or green. But alas, the only thing of value she had on her was the Venus Cage. Of course, Ken, also working for The Void, knew this. After receiving it he made the proper disposal per instructions. Far far away from The Void. Lemont Sanford must not know how to get at her this go around. She will be truly trapped forever and ever. Swapsies.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0605, Omega^^, Southern

00340605

Unexpected development at the vet’s office. Another numbers crunching dog was already there, typing on his laptop as fast as possible. The screen shots changed at a rapid, even amazing pace. But although there were a dizzying amount of different angles, the location was obviously the same. The Red Room, sometimes known as the Red Bathroom. Also sitting Norris had found it after a long long search.

Johnny Black tried to remain as calm as possible. “Your dog?” he said over. “Talented,” he added.

“Not my dog,” replied the man with the bleached out face. Don’t look at me, he thought. Anywhere but me.

“Oh.” Johnny Black had a rethink. Norris was obviously studying what the labrador was looking at intently. Not his dog, but Norris was fascinated with the information it was receiving. Another Universe was already in place here. Removing the numbers from his own dog wouldn’t work! Darnit! Drat! Wheeler won’t take this well, he knows. He digs further to find out the source of the problem. “Interesting room he’s got there. Very red it appears.”

“Red Room, yes. I’ve been… searching for it…” Norris knew to shut up.

“Red Room you say. Is that the same as the Red Bathroom?” Johnny Black was testing Norris to see if he even knew of the latter, and that it might be the same as the former, given the right circumstances. Because everything hinged on that association now. Everyone in a high enough circle of information knew the Red Room was ultimately inaccessible. But a red bathroom — could be different.

Norris dared to look over, understanding the same. Their eyes met, their eyes locked. This was a race to the end with the loser becoming dead. Norris stood up, Johnny Black stood up. Norris took one step forward, so did Johnny as he gathered up the dog to leave. Norris took one two threefourfivesixseven. He was running out the door down the street. Johnny was right behind him, or right beside him. Maybe in front, even. Both had to go to the bathroom and it was urgent in each case — couldn’t wait. Just over there next to the swamp…

—–

“Next!” Oh frick, thought Abby the vet and vet assistant both today, seeing the empty waiting room besides Sparkles. Another owner on the run. She hasn’t got time for this.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0605, Paper Soap

dedication

“So you guard this thing day and night?”

“Yup,” said back the Guardian of the Water Tart, a full time job indeed. Else everyone would have a sword in Our Second Lyfe and chaos would ensue. GotWT makes sure that doesn’t happen; swords aren’t freely distributed hither and thither. He feels it is a very worthwhile occupation. Better than being a dung gatherer in Hoagietown. Like his brother.

“What about the little pixies here. Can’t they give you at least a bathroom break every now and then?” Must go in his pants, Jem thinks here. Like a spaceman, yuck!

(So I guess he’s also a dung gatherer in that disgusting way. I don’t see much difference in the brothers’ jobs, then.)

The guard didn’t know what pixies were so he kept silent. Oh… the *fairies*, he realized. The worthless things. Probably attached to the sword tart, he thinks, a long held theory. Their flight seems to be confined to the immediate region of the manifesting pool.

“Oops. There it goes again. She’s flung the sword back into the water and given us the piss off sign.”

GotWT knew it wasn’t flung anywhere. It merely disappears from her hands. But he thought that at the beginning as well. Until he studied the hand motions more, the path of the sword. He doesn’t correct her on this. Along with the piss off sign, as she put it, actually being a peace sign. Piss… peace, he then turns around in his head, free associating but for a reason. Can’t… wait.

Jem turns toward him. You’re not saying much guardian. “Oh dear,” she realized, standing back and studying the strained look on his face. “You’re not… going.”

“As I said,” he managed.

“Not what I meant.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0605, Jeogeot, Towerboro

Policeman Blue Jay

A plane crashed into Squared Root City today at 0800 AM. No one was hurt, but those who were aware took it as a sign that the character Eyela shouldn’t be renting an apartment or house in town and that she would be “crashing” the party (role play) if so. Direct link: both are Demos, as we know when making that famous tuft of purple hair transparent. No 3rd eye under there, no 3-d Venus either. Sloow and easy, they decided.

Meanwhile:

“I am ready to serve again, 3-d Venus. Just get me out of this heavenly yet heavily primmed place.”

“Done,” the great being ruled. “Done,” echoed the even greater or at least taller being behind her — Wanda, I think — adding, “we’ll come too.” They must be sick of it as well.

Blue Rose Thorn aka Jeffrie Phillips jumps out of the plane.

That was easy, he-as-she thinks when landing safely instead of smashing to the ground, becoming a type of plane him-herself. Now to steal one of these cars.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0605, Hana Lei^^, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Squared Root City

00310605

She looks down at the blue and white umbrella in the distance and realizes this is the same as Bear Island, ruled by Ted. Much larger dimensions of course, but: the same. Now to figure out where this is going. An examination of the land to begin. Retirement Island? Appears so, yes. But is that the official nomenclature? All this has happened before. Baker Bloch, a bobblehead, on his neighboring isle, within easy earshot for continued communication.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0605, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West

missing

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0605, Crisp Sea, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West

00290605

I asked her when it would end, all these transformations.

“It will never end,” she states plainly back, finality in her voice (obviously).

—–

We were in the shack seen in back of that photo up above, Liz and me I suppose. The Loch Ness Monster could still be seen lurking in the distance. We were in a make-believe land, but not Hana Lei. A plainly stated one: Paper-Soap. I wondered what spirit Liz represented, since we are really all alive and dead at once, at least according to [delete name]. I’m starting to remember dreams a little better. It doesn’t seem that hard, and will have a chance to work on it more in 1 1/8 years. But I shouldn’t wait I can hear [delete name] say. We turn into Jennifer Lane…

“Bad juju over at the beach,” Fook Mi chef Kim Lee explained. “Bodies not washing up properly; turning black too soon; Suds and Bubbles can’t get to them in time.” Jennifer wondered how the word “black” here would affect Liz. She decides not to further this albeit interesting conversation in front of her.

The monster seems to stare back at her. Cherry branches sprout from her frizzy hair. She understands collage a lot better than us. We decide we’ll keep her around (for awhile). Caretaker for the moment Jennifer brings sushi from the bar.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0605, Paper, Paper Soap

00280605

Afterwards, they went to Skysity and got milkshakes, a family tradition in this matter. “How’re you feeling, son?” he said, knowing Claude Jr. wasn’t really his son any more. Instead: hive mind.

“Pretty (*sip*) good. Hey dad?”

“Yes son.” Claude Sr. suddenly became sad. He was thinking back to the talk he had with his father, right on this very spot with the only difference being Jasper was out of vanilla that day. Had to settle for chocolate. This was better, this was more like it should be. Favorite for his favorite. He should have everything he wants this day. Because he’s lost so much.

“Are you going away again? To that place? Paper.”

“I have to, son. You know that. You’ll have to go too.”

“But I’m — *12*.”

“You’re not ready to go out into the world yet on your own son. Remember Uncle Peaches? Remember how he started too early? Got recruited for the war. Blew his head off in the end. Demolitions — it’s always demolitions for us; you remember that, son. You remember what’s happened to many of us. They — just don’t care.”

“Aw, *dad*.” Jr. was sorry he brought up the subject now. Sure he’d tag along with his old man a little longer. But not *too* long. He has plans — designs.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0605, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

assimilation (growing the behemoth)

Later:

“Tell us about the failure of the Pooping Pigeon (franchise).”

—–

She was in enemy territory and she knew it. If only the good doctor had been able to successfully remove the black. But it is what it is now.

Oh no! Not Pooh too!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0605, Hana Lei^^, Paper Soap, Soap