Category Archives: 0615

middle end 01

Barry X. Vampire never made it out of the original 9×9 square of sims that included his home town of Bena(ngatron). He was still in Fearzum, struggling to choose a direction for escape. “West, obviously,” he might mutter at some point. “Or is it South?” Little did he know until today that the correct way out was *centre*, right in the middle of it all. I’m almost positive of this.

He uses his gift he’s had from childhood in seeing this centre in any sim he’s in. A red beam connecting ground and sky always indicates it — he *can’t escape.* It was inevitable that he grew to understand what this meant all along. Particularly frustrated at this day’s events and the inability to write, he’s drawn toward it. For calm. For peace. Maybe for even love. The love he misses from Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child, perhaps, left behind in Urqhart along with the nifty, many windowed house he liked so much, with the spinning tire outside that inspired the writing of his current novel, the newest working title being “Wheels Go Round”.

And what do wheels spin round? A centre. It was inevitable. Guided by the beam he starts to move away from a central western perimeter position. Due east — interesting again. What would he pass on this central line in?

For one, this fence sequestering a square of grassy green off from the rest of Fearzum-town. Not quite the past but getting there.

At its corner, he starts sensing the egg. Is this white object here an egg? It would be about the right volume, he ponders, if not the right shape. Is it in disguise?

Then he walks over to the other side and sees the “Multiscene” label and determines it probably isn’t. Onward and inward!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0615, Ashenlave^, Corsica

return of the 88’s

“No, I think you’ve had quite enough spaghetti tonight,” answers Kuckoo to her daughter Louisa’s request. “Now let’s see if we can get that nasty bowl off your head.” But, having a revelation, she instead pivots toward googling Sparky at her laptop. “Anything yet?” she asks, lining up her thoughts while Louisa slurps a stray spaghetti noodle into her mouth. “Not really,” he barks back, and then relays what he thought was sidestepping trivia but turns out to be the heart of the matter. “Did you know, Kuckoo, that there’s a Cow Pond over on the old continent. Spelled with a ‘c’ instead of a ‘k’.” Kuckoo doesn’t get angry, but she inwardly thinks that Sparky should keep on track with his search for the missing girls. The big ta-do is — tonight! No time for sidestepping trivia. Even though, as I said, it’s the meat of the problem, the gist of the matter, white and grey. “Sorry,” Sparky apologizes when Kuckoo doesn’t respond. “I just–” “No problem,” she answers, thinking on the contrary, it *is* a problem. Perhaps they’ll have another sale on word processing dogs down at the marketplace soon. She’s saved enough money. She’s about ready to buy. One more slip–

“Bowl,” she then utters, remembering her insight. “Fish bowl,” she elaborates. “Google, Sparky, ‘fish bowl’ and ‘lost’ together.”

Sparky does as commanded (good dog!). “Yes, there’s a hit!” Sparky is excited because he thinks this can save his job as animal word processor for the Kuail family. Because he knows he’s in trouble too. Dogs are intuitive like that. “But — looks like there’s only two lost souls in that song instead of three. One off, then.” Sparky’s job is suddenly jeopardized again.

—-

In other parts of Kuckoo’s small house overlooking Tao Bay, daughter Thelma is lining up Benjamin Franklins to stick on her doll heads…

… while visiting Earnheart and Gordon fiddle around with drawers and cover themselves with grease stains. Who left those children here??

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0615, Jeogeot, Kowloon^^, Neptune, NWES Island^

smarts

“She has received the belt, ma’am, and is testing it out in Marwood.”

“Good, good,” Mid-Hazel returned. “But get her to Black Drake as soon as possible.”

“10-4 on that, Eleanor.”

“Stop doing stuff like that,” she commanded. He never listened. One day Jack Toadswallow would pay for all those non-listenings. The Abyss remembers.

—–

Alice Farrowheart was embarrassed she had to widen and deepen the belt so many times in the options mode. Must go on another diet soon! But she had it on, and she *wasn’t* going to enlarge it any more, despite some of her waist still drooping over the top in the front. So be it! She was what she was (at this point). Not a young woman any longer, although in my day… Alice F. thinks back here to winning Ms. Applewood in ’52. A good year for apples in general, she sighs while looking down her torso toward the belt. She can barely make out the edges. But… it’s on.

Now: to test it out. Think I’ll go to that bot bar on the north side of the sim so’s no one important can see me if things go wrong. Alice F. has studied Mystery Woman’s working of the same. Several options will not be used! Just the one that teleports you to a different place. Shocking, I know.

She imagines the bar very vividly in her mind. And: SHOCK.

She’s there! Initial test complete.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0615, Jeogeot, Marwood, Neptune, NWES Island^

return

“He will — see you now.” The voice was husky and deep, sort of like Darth Vader.

“That’s great. That’s wonderful! I’m so happy.”

“Are you — not rattled?” the giant turtle asked, his beak only inches from the crocogator’s ear now.

“Nah, nah, I’m okay. It was better than, say, Barry *Manilow*, hehe.” Crocogator stared over at Andy’s huge face. “Get it? Because Barry Manilow is so *awful*.” Andy most definitely didn’t get it. There was nothing more to say here.

—–

“Watch out for the exploding lamb!” Winkler the big frog warned. Luke Skywalker this time.

Crocogator walked around the lamb, but in doing so moved just left enough to fall out of “Heaven” while crossing this open corner.

“God dammit!”

So close to God, he lamented while dusting himself off back on the ground. Now I’ll have to start all over.

He looked around for the clown so that he could start all over.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0615, Maebaleia/Satori, X-City^

of Hatton

“So as you can see from the screen behind me…”  — Woody Woodmanson points to it with his precious golden key for the rest of the group sitting around The Table —

“…it was always suppose to end with the Horns of Hatton. The Crown (Capital) is there,” he continues in his squeaky, shrill voice. So irritating to Wheeler, but she couldn’t make it tonight because of the flu. Perhaps not a coincidence when I think about it. “And that’s my Pitch,” he concludes.

“Richfield is the place we can divert them, where the fork is,” Tealy summarizes some earlier talk from his suave chair behind Woody.

“Horns of Hatton, where they could end up instead of Golden Sink,” exclaims Tillie beside him, similarly facing the screen close up from her partnered suave chair. “The B.’s could be saved.”

“*Fork*” Woody spouts suddenly, making everyone jump because of the, you know, voice. So irritating, I’m sure Wheeler would think at this point — if she were here. He was channeling the key again. When he channels the key, his voice tends to become *really* irritating (in Wheeler-speak), with all the “negative” aspects magnified. The key has power that way.


“Yes this could work.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0014, 0615, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus

granted 02

He walked and walked until he came upon a horse.

Approaching it, Allen Y. commented on what a pretty horse it was. “Thank you,” the creature replied in a smooth, feminine voice, surprising the yellow alien.

“A talking horse, eh?” He was facing the beautiful brown animal directly now. “What’s your name, then?”

“Mirabel,” it quickly replied. “Use to be Tricksy. But that’s a horse name. I got a proper *being* name when I came in contact with Brainard. Have you met our God? He often rolls around the valley… like a marble. Sometimes in the hills surrounding the valley, sometimes in the valley.”

“Hmmm. How big is this… marble being?”

“A *God*,” Mirabel neighs. “A collective, some say. But a God still. There’s little debate on that. Hitchcock can tell you. He’s the expert.”

“Hitchcock,” Allen Y. urged. “Another horse?”

Mirabel snorted, then: “Not hardly,” and went back to eating greener grass on the other side of the fence.

Sensing the animal-being was done with him, Allen Y. moved on. “Thank you,” he said in parting.

—–

Soon he came upon a stream, and across it, a cabin in a small grove of more of those tall, tall trees. The abode of Hitchcock.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0615, MISTY MO^^

arrival 03

It took them half a day to reach another of those clear spaces where they could make enough sense to each other for more of the story.

“A railroad oval. An engine runs into a caboose. Tale before the tiger,” Marion explained. “A race between beginning and end, she said. Tale wins.”

“Maybe tails win,” Billy Jean King said while sitting on a small bed in the corner of the otherwise almost unfurnished and undecorated cabin. “As in a coin. Flipping a coin — heads and tails.”

“Maybe.”

“What else?”

“She said to always pay attention to the blue roses. They always indicate something. We looked west now. Two thrones — blue roses to side. She said these were the Prince and Princess of Rosehaven, but only when Caledon is Caledonia.”

“See?” BJK nudged Philip sitting beside her in the ribs. “I *told* you it was Caledon. Maybe we were in the wrong place to start with.”

“No,” insisted Marion. “We were definitely in the right place. Caledonia. And then — get this — they removed their, er, masks. Actually the Prince had on some rainbow swirly globe or something — over his head. The princess just shed her golden skin, like a snake. ‘Let the waters rise,’ they said in unison, then. I looked around but didn’t see any water, let alone water rising. But something had changed. I could feel it.”

I also noticed there was a tiny bit missing from the Prince’s fin-foot, like it was bitten a little bit.”

“A little *bite*,” BJK insisted. She turned toward Philip knowingly. Philip just stared back blankly.

“The Princess’ shoe was right there.”

“Achilles heel?” BJK offered, visualizing it backwards in her mind.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0615, Caledonia^^, Rose Heaven^^

pause 02

Dr. Nightwing had traversed the whole of Okemo Gorge many times now. But the so-called Murderkiller hadn’t struck again in several weeks, November 27th to be exact. He was sure the perpetrator would employ the deepest and longest canyon in Snowlands for body dumpings sometime, perhaps as part of a climactic spree of some kind. But how to police it all? Luckily there was the ONSR (Okemo, Nakiska, and Southern Railway) running through its center.

12 stops existed along the railroad, almost the same number of murders already perpetrated by the Murderkiller in Snowlands (13). He understands 12 shouldn’t be forced into 13 so easily, but can’t help himself. And certainly the 13th and last is being highlighted through various, recently exposed details. On *this side* that would be Schism Santa, torn limb from limb by the rogue yeti on a lake isle in Schism and then deposited in the gorge running from the lake to the Southern Sea. How many body parts were found? He recalls 7 — he’ll keep that in mind. But his ruminations keep coming back to that island for a particular reason.

And he must always hold in mind that the killer yeti is in all likelihood merely an outward disguise for something far more villainous and conniving. He knows this through Audrey; he’s learn to trust her intuition. “This is *not* a yeti rampage,” is one of her recent mantras on the subject. “Yetis do not kill 13 beloved Christmas figures over here, then go over there and murder the same amount. This is the work of a mastermind.” In fact, it was Audrey who coined the name Murderkiller. 13 killed over here, you see, then 13 murdered over there. She lists all the names out in that direction: 12 young women on The Cross, with the 11th and 12th begin Ruby and Indigo (as previously illuminated). But the 13th? Also a man in that case, she’s determined from all the evidence. One Duncan Avocado, an escaped slave from the southern part of the Omega continent — Dixie it is slangly called by some, after a similar splinter nation off the old United States of America that was dissolved in the 2030s, he believed; 2036 comes to mind (the United States, not Dixie). But then the topper: Audrey also uncovered a lake island in connection with *his* death. 13th mirrors 13th in that respect. What could it mean? They’ve had long conversions on the subject the last several evenings, sandwiched around their most popular of nighttime activities. His back remains a little sore today.

He can’t follow all the Omega continent leads and patrol the Okemo Canyon at the same time — his *own* hunch for the location of 12 or 13 *more* killings to come. He realizes he must have a confederate — a *companion*. Audrey is a logical choice, what with her brilliance of mind. But there’s also the muted Mystic Girl to consider. Hmmm. Maybe both? he then realizes. He can have more than one companion at a time. Nothing in the Cosmic Rulebook he plays by states otherwise; he’s checked the related sections many times now. But here’s the problem: these would be his 12th and 13th companions overall, if so. He dare not put a lady in the target of a ruthless killer by slapping a number 13 on her back side. However, he also most definitely needs a 12th. So — bottom line (he decides) — he needs to choose. This would be his right hand person to his left hand working over here.

—–

“I just want to pause here again,” says Indigo to the quickly scribbling Ruby on her right. “So that’s 13 *killings* in… Snowlands. Then 13 *murders* on the Omega continent and its cross.”

“*The* Cross,” chips in Ragdoll across from her.

“Yes. And then 12 or 13 more in the Okemo Canyon? Is this what Dr. Nightwing has projected? Or maybe sees in the future?”

Ruby gnaws on the eraser of the pencil while thinking. “No,” she decides. “We don’t have time to open another can of worms like that in the current novel journal.” She begins to erase the related line. “Let’s… leave it that Dr. Nightwing is puzzling over the similarities of the 13th killings in each direction while patrolling the Okemo Canyon.” She wipes away the eraser shards. “We don’t have to go into detail about what he’s doing there.”

“We don’t?” queries young Ragdoll, eyes alert with surprise, then relaxed. “I do like the idea of the Murderkiller. And the Killen Ponds.”

“Killen Ponds?” exclaim Ruby and Indigo as one. Where did *that* come from?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0615, Purden/Snowlands^, Rubi^

1/2 and 1/2

Like Tronesisia, Leeman or Leemon has also become mobile enough to make his way over from New Island to Fishers Island and its Wallytown.

But he’s only seeing half the story so far about Bottle Mound, etc. He’s stubborn like that.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0010, 0615, New Island^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^

centerpoint

Young Ruby looked far and wide for her missing friend Shirley Boot, starting with Yd Bay on the far side of New Island, hoping to hell she didn’t find another bobbing head there like she did before with Trashy the Clown’s (she didn’t).

Another place to visit was Faux Aunt Annie and Karl’s Gloomy Gus on the west coast. Now the last couple of times we checked in — well, actually throughout this *whole* novel, looking back — it seems that Annie was in a heap of trouble with all these pills and incessant dancing and, um, the other thing. And she was! But the death of Trashy the Clown, although extremely difficult to get over at first, was a blessing in disguise. She cleaned up, with aid from loving beau Karl — locked up in the Gloomy Gus for going on two weeks. She emerged exhausted and dehydrated and still a little nauseous, but ready to move forward into the future without drugs and the other, attached things. Karl was her focus now, her beacon of light. So we have a happy ending to that part of our story, and an important one it is. But no luck for Ruby this day — no sign of Shirley there.

Mrs. Fogg and Ms. Frame, now moved in together for mutual protection, food, and liberty, hadn’t seen her either. That basically took care of the whole northwest section of the island, so active these two women were with their sailing and beach running and frequent picnics to the top of Mt. Sondra where they had a commanding view of that part of New Island.

Blue Jay Wade was dead, and his former chum turned complete psychopath Big Red Butler remained incarcerated at the Gaston-Berry jail, at least for this week. But neighbor Zettie Lamont the zebra-ass, similar to Fogg and Frame, had a pretty good view of the lower western part of the island from his perch atop Pimushe Isle. He relayed to the disappointed Ruby that he hadn’t seen the young girl either.

How about one of the houseboats or yachts at the Diamond Sailing Club? Possibility, but since Lisa the Vegetarian Smipson left for Corsica, she has no contacts there.

No one lived at Artist Point in the southeast section of the island. The east was dominated by Mid Hazel’s compound of buildings. Ruby felt that if Shirley had somehow gotten stuck over there she was doomed anyway. Lost to a powerful witch.

Which left center: Mabel’s house (Mabel and roommates Fisher and Bendy had seen nothing), Eraserhead Man and his Rabbit Hole house (nada again), and Robot Derak Jones (who said, check with Eraserhead Man, which she’d just done). Hmm, she thought, standing in the middle of central Route 9 dividing the island almost cleanly in two. She looked down at the buildings: Elephant Club, Axis’ Castle, Flossie’s, a new place beside Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village. “*Wait*,” she suddenly exclaimed. “The Village! I could ask Lavern Glam. She has eyes everywhere.”

So we head back to the ice cream truck, the sole component of this so-called village. Use to be bigger in the day, as they say. But Mr. Glam sold part of his original land to the Elephant Club, who turned it into their western parking lot, and then part to Oranga Black who built the Arcade in back. He downsized from a double wide trailer with indoor seating to the small truck we’ve already seen in that last post, whose cab also doubled as his daughter’s bedroom for a while. She didn’t mind: she felt she remained in the center of it all that way.

Ruby approached the truck. “You’re not Lavern Glam.”

“Yet *you* remain oh-so-red Ruby Roo,” spoke the alien behind the counter. “Exactly 15 1/2 today, this minute, this, um, second actually. Your anti-birthday.”

The island blew up around them. To those on the outside, those who survived, they describe the sound it made as close if not the same as middle C on a piano. Queer, huh? Too queer? We’ll see…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0615, New Island^