All proper passageways to the Big Inside had been sealed up.
Yet Marsha “Pink” Krakow, basically without friends now, drummed on and on, faster and better than ever, speeding toward New York.
The Black Elephant consumed her.
“I’m tired of the movement, the stories. It all ends *here*,” Monroe says while staring up at his vibrating, gold plated stereo rocking the tune of “Magneto and Titanium Man,” one of Marty’s. The glass ornaments on Monroe’s gold coated palm plant jingle with the beat. Because Marty and The Man *knew* each other. They both knew about… well, we’ll get back to her story soon enough.
“I’m tired of all the sights,” he starts again, looking at nothing in particular now. “I’m going to get myself sooo *blinded* tonight.”
Phylllis/Cybercat-Woman, the cyan “it” power inside the walls now (thanks to Peter), illuminated the next place Herbert Glenn Gold should dream about.
She slept on her guitar so-as no one else would dare steal it. This weekend was the big ta-do. Concert with her sisters at Loon Lake, also known as Kow Pond. It was to be the center of everything. And so it is.
“Good evening, Ms. Tanner.”
“Good evening, er, Jack. Have a good night. See you tomorrow.”
“Yes, Ms. Tanner.”
She’s always in that hammock, Percy. In her underwear; maybe, sometimes, without any clothes atall. Not that I’m perving.”
“Sure you are,” Jodie Tanner’s sometimes lover joked. “You sit here after work is over, *pretending* you’re doing more work and you’re just perving. Sitting here spying on that poor, pitiful woman over there. Percy peers over as well from her somewhat less advantageous position in the booth. “Never moves, huh?”
“No. Not even to go to the bathroom. Not even to change clothes. I suppose she does both remotely.”
“It’s just a bot,” concluded Percy. “Marwood’s full of ’em. Have you seen the mime?”
“No, this is different,” countered Jodie Tanner.
“I don’t *think* so,” offers up a convinced Percy, matching her tone.
“Alice Farrowheart’s in the same apartment building. The Monarch Too.”
“Yeah? Your point?”
“I mentioned it to her the other day. When we were discussing the (Red Umbrella) collages — just catching up with all that (after my vacation), you know.”
“What’d she say?” Percy’s interest was perking up again.
“She didn’t say anything, which was odd. Alice F. likes to *talk*, you know. But she was strangely mute when I brought the woman up.”
“Alice F.? When did you start calling her that?”
“Oh it’s just we’ve been seeing each other so much lately. Farrowheart’s kind of a long word. So we agreed to shorten it. Alice F. she is now. When I’m off duty, of course. Alice Farrowheart, the full name, around other police people.”
Private detective Percy Pierce looked over again, trying to see more details. “Maybe — we should arrange to go see her.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” But Percy was thinking of Alice F. and not the woman.
“I pray that I’ve done good by you my Lord.”
“Okay, yes sir,” Crocogator speaks to the booming voice in the sky, his King. He rises.
Sacrificee Renaldo O’Donnell stands up from the sacrificial altar, heart beating again within him. He has a new one.
“I will take you to the King now.”
“Not those two silly beings. The real one. Over here.”
“Alright. Thank you again! Thank you so much.”
Wheeler’s Mossm’s from Collagesity are two of the many objects that made a successful transition over to 7 Stones on the Nautilus continent. And they’ve grown even more in the meantime(!). Not sure if they can actually breed with each other, but we’ll see. Probably not I’m guessing. They’re freebies after all, that I just stumbled across one night by “accident”. One of those many, many accidents that are adding up to no Big Accident atall. Instead: Big Purpose.
Where else tonight, my friends Kasey and Kasper?
I’m not sure I can dispose of them that easily now. Becoming attached…
“A sim skipper you say?” George states, looking out at the boat moored in the small harbor beyond the broken windows.
“Yeah. That Joint Joint appears to be part of a regional chain from the looks of it. We must be close. That’s where you’re from. But my current theory is that you’ll be grown up there. You won’t be the same as here.”
George stands up, makes a proclamation. “Then let’s not ever go. It’s nice here. There’s the Joint Joint, like you said.”
“It’s better than I originally thought,” admits Billy Jean Kidd, speaking about the town they’re in. “But this is not really Hana Lei. This is not where Marion’s high priced pot is. High Money Pot. The bee fell into the collage for a reason. We must find the bee and bring him home. It may take, um, several novels.”
“Novels?” queries the boy.”
“Wish I knew how the heck to start this old, beat up sim skipper,” spoke Duncan Avacado across the sea with a sense of urgency. “I’ve got to get to those kids before they get to me!”