He could go anywhere, do anything. He truly had a bike now. But how to use this new found power. He’s decided to be a spiritual guide for the blog, for Collagesity perched up there on that beige ridge between Route 13, which he’s riding on currently, and Route 14 on the other side. Together (through the Wizard Cube): 25, or the number of letters subtract one. And that one could be him, hidden in form. He could be the true man behind the Wizard in Oz-speak, which is All-speak now for him. Because he knows Oz represents the Afterlife.
He bikes on, plotting on how to heal the Great Split. Brother against brother, friend against friend. It’s all going to end somewhere, and perhaps badly. But Nautilus can survive. If he places himself in the middle. And that could be an anchor for the rest.
“Sure is a perfect day, Tillie.”
“As usual, Tealy.” BOOOOOOOMMMM.
“What was *that*?” he exclaimed to his 4 colored partner.
He listened in open mouthed amazement, like always.
“I don’t know, Groover,” he put it mildly but seriously. “I’m just not feeling it yet in…” He considered the name of the place, the village. But not a village. A community. Centered around Blues. He stared at his blue companion; decided to ask him about a name. “What do you locals call this, um, neighborhood?”
Groover stared back, also considering a name. He hadn’t thought of it before. A list developed in his mind, Thirteensboro at the top. Unlucky Village? But 13 is a good number according to TILE tarot reader Marsha Slot, due to arrive at quarter past the hour to start her shift in the next room over. We should wait for her, Groover realized. He told this to Man About Time (MAT).
The front door opened and closed. A woman’s footsteps were heard going into the other room. “There she is,” MAT said over in his soft tone with raised eyebrows, and they got up to go get her first reading of the day. MAT had 50 lindens. He hoped that was enough, because he knew Groover never carried around cash with him. No pockets.
I am wearing a red cap for some reason. The skeleton opposite me has just flipped over the Ace of Spades from his own deck, the death card. But I have an ace to counter from mine. But my ace is red. I lose (*SLICE*).
MAT (Man About Time) wakes up with a gasp. He knows how the vote about the town vs. city moniker is going to come out. Good news! He can’t help but feel his neck, though, to make sure it’s on nice and tight (phew!).
He crosses his arms, feeling guilty again. Was this statue that had trouble rezzing in before *alive*? Was it another version of himself? Was it Graham once more? The green dot doesn’t lie but no one was around according to his scanner. He pinches himself. Is he dreaming? His hand passes through his arm on the way to its intended action. Failure, of course. He’s dreaming.
He attempts communication. “Whatup?” he decided to frame it. “How’s it hanging?” he follows up. Nothing. There *must* be something to this — anomaly.
The only avatar around — found through turning off volume and toggling on the “show skeleton” option for avatars — is this dancing gecko more in the southern part of the sim: Montague. He teleports to the edge of a sky “o” to find it. He stares over at the drink cooler after manifesting, realizing this was another hole, like in his most recent work called “Half and Hole” featured in that last post before the current one here. And the bar itself is shaped like a hole. He’s traveling a diagonal again.
“Whatup?” he tries again over to the jiggling exotic lizard. He’s sitting on a “333 — Tiki Bar Stool”; he checks while waiting. But nothing again. He wasn’t surprised.
Someone else must be coming.
It seemed like a good place to send Crappy in, the newest freebie outfit on the marketplace I added to my cart only several minutes back. Crappy hates the 1974 music of Supertramp and thinks their album “Crime of the Century” is vastly overrated. Perfect.
It didn’t work! Something is wrong with Crappy. Maybe Supertramp merits deeper study after all.
Philip Strevor was his own boss for a while but that changed when he entered the Red Room and met Casey One Hole, the bastard. From then on, he worked for him; boss no more. Instead he was a grunt man, bullying underlings and upward mobile wannabes. Like Whatammys except transparent. Sammy Whatammy, aka Miss Raincoat, waited in the waiting room to be seen next by Philip. Then it was Yoko Ona (upward mobile wannabe) and then Zapppa (underling). The place was still heavily bugged.
“Never mind the sign,” he made the obligatory apology to start. “I’m not the boss any more. *He* is. He calls the shots, sometimes golf shots, sometimes other kinds of shots, if you know what I mean.” He stared at Miss Raincoat/Sammy Whatammy, expecting an answer. “Do you *know*… what I *mean*?” he repeated more sinisterly, as was appropriate at this juncture. He’d seen it happen. He didn’t want to see someone face that kind of music again. Pizza!
“I testified just like [delete name] wanted me to. I said all the words I was suppose to say.” She repeated some of the words here: “Underwater. Sinky. Blub blub blub. Just like [delete name] told me.”
“Why can’t you say [delete name]?”
The name of our (actual) boss. [Delete name]. Dang! Now I’m doing it too. Must be [delete word].”
“[Delete name][delete word] is obviously [delete word][delete name]. Reversed.”
“*That* bloodied vampire? That imbecile? Impossible.”
“I believe [delete word].”
“*He’s* Casey One Hole? Played by ever method actor Tom Casey? Dang!”
(to be continued?)
“I’ve killed your husband Jeffrie Phillips, Audrey. I’ve killed the *killer* of your husband Arthur Kill. I’m afraid we are *all*…”
“–Don’t say it, former lover,” requested Audrey to Marty from the bench in front of NWES’ Red Rose (actual type of business yet to be determined). “You brought him back. You also got rid of that murderer Arthur Kill to everyone’s great relief.”
“Legos, yes,” states the famed musician/composer, pondering fondly of the little, toy-like people living on the hill overlooking Urquhart Castle at similarly famed Loch Ness in Scotland. They’d only spotted the actual one a handful of times, but they knew a monster when they saw it. And Arthur Kill definitely was one. *Pop,* roll roll roll, *splunk*. Laying in a bloody heap down at the edge of the castle thanks to the quick action of Winfield 5 and husband-wife Winnie. Marty followed it all in his mind’s eye; replayed his reimaging of the event many times. And then when you erase the extra “u”, like the Loch Ness Monster himself or herself did that one time, you get, um, well you get *home*. Urqhart. While I remain in Our Second Lyfe most likely. And Marty is a neighbor!
Audrey waited patiently for the internal monologue to end. Then: “I heard the fire engines will also be cooled down because of — this place.”
Marty turned. The Red Rose.
Yes, indeed circumstances had changed in this here NWES City, still a partner to newly repositioned Collagesity over in Urqhart moving forward. Both have been *reset*.
They both stared into the lighted mirror. “*I* think you look great as a redhead, but you do what you wish. You’re the customer.”
“I’ll go with the peppery black, then,” Marty responds to Audrey in his lilting manner of speech. “Unlike the star we’re in… on. I need a change. I need to find a new me.”
Audrey blows out air in resignation. “O-*kay*. We’ll see what this *does* to you.” She leans over and kisses the top of his carrot colored head before starting to suds it away.
She stands back and takes in her handiwork. “Hey lover boy,” she speaks to the new man before her. The mirror’s over *there*.”
They celebrate in the customary way. Audrey had basically forgotten all about deceased hubbie Jeffrie Phillips thanks to Marty’s wicked ways. She’s no longer part of the widow’s club seen at the beginning of section 5. Which leaves only…
“I wonder where my egg — is — NOW?”
On the way to Kow Pond to practice with her band mates for the upcoming big ta-do there, Slash Girl got a little lost thanks to bad information from a Heart Queen spy. She ended up near *Cow* Pond, very far away from the sought after, phonetically identical pond indeed. But SG was not known as the brightest member of Redeye. That goes to Angus Girl — we’ll meet her soon in this here blog.
“*Cow* Pond,” explained Jersey the Cow at the summit, a 31 prim member of the vertu species, as was her mate Guernsey just down the slope. “At the end of Cow Road down below, which starts here at Cow Hill. So: not *Kow* Pond, pheh.” The exasperated cow turned around and blew out air, but not from her mouth.
“Well I’ll be,” exclaimed Slash Girl, picking up her hat from the bridge and placing it back on her head.
She never made it to the concert. What she called Cow County, shared between the sims of Argent here and then Bisque to the immediate east, became too fascinating in and of itself. Like Duncan before her, she remained trapped in the Color Sims for a good while.
Although she never could figure out how to pick up these sticks with the marshmallows on them for roasting, she made this Cow Hill camping spot her base of exploration.
The white leopard Herm-Sark beside her was an interloper on this hill. But he had more information than the others that, one day, not too far in the future but also not too near, he would share with Slash Girl, Duncan and the rest on this very mount. From that day forward, Cow Hill would become very sacred indeed and, through it, Cow County as a whole.
fenced-in Cow Hill at the beginning of Cow Road…
… leading to Cow Pond.
Well. If she’s going to be stuck out here on this peninsula isolated from the rest of NWES — turning her back on the yellow green blue red puzzle pieces that are sims, in essence — then’s she’s going to try to stay as jolly as possible. Celebrating Xmas to the hilt seemed to be the ticket. Axis help out. A lot. Most of the objects were his.
Then he added the final touch in the bedroom, the coup de grâce. They both looked down.
Alice Frame’s skin changed over. She remembered who she was, deep down.
She turns toward her partner, her lover. “Thank you, Axis. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. Wife.” It was time to show her the yarn pictures.