Here they come in the streetcar, he thinks. Finally arrived in the right place. Must make my presence known soon. But first…
… a little havoc while I wait, he he. Bark bark, bark!
Category Archives: RDR2
00420107 (allies?)
He wouldn’t reach out to him if it weren’t desperate times. “I need your help, Cpt. Americus, with these two loud mouth *goof* balls I’m currently house sitting for. The manor should be mine — *will* be mine. Are you in, wannabe superhero? Or are you out?”
“Let me finish this bucket of grey matter chicken and I’ll be able to decide,” he requests, and takes another bite. Slow chews. Sloooww.
There, he can feel it working again. His brain.
“Count me in,” he said as the last bit of gristle disappeared into his mouth, also the last of the magically produced chicken. Oh look. A whole new batch of pieces to consume when he looks down again. The Mann could be waiting a while. He’d forgotten about the bottomless bucket, an isolated superpower.
“Hold on, I suddenly forgot what we were talking about; remind me of the deal again?” he said as the munching and crunching began anew.
“Never mind Cpt.,” The Mann decided. “I’ll have to get back to you — another meeting, you see.” He didn’t plan to get back to him. This part of the search was to be closed up like an abandoned dangerous mine with its own bottomless pit.
—–
“Spaced Ghost,” he said to the next. “You’ve been with us since before the beginning, it seems. Surely *you* understand the power I desire. You can be there too. Sitting alongside me… and Parasol.” The Mann wasn’t quite sure how Spaced Ghost was young again, since his son Baker Bloch was nearing 67 years old now. Had to be 95-100. But here he is, shiny cape and shiny teeth and youthful physique. He didn’t question it, though. He was told he resided at the Shakespear’s Club in Centre County PA. Maybe the location was magical and gave him youth. He’d heard about such things associated with places named for The Bard. Like that ghost town near Lordsburg NM (revitalized in novel 39).
But when he teleported in to the proffered landmark, the only club he could find was the one slung over Young Spaced Ghost’s shoulder, as in a vintage Shakespear Gary Player Black Knight #2 Wood from the 1970s.
“I liked this place because they had a picture of me up on the wall there,” he started. “Don’t know when it was replaced by these collages or whatever they are.” He stared at one called “Doc’s Art”, wondering what it meant and the technique used.
“Yeah, sorry about that, Spaced Ghost. But about the deal…”
“Me and Zorak and Moltar — all 3 of us together. Boy I miss those days. Ghost Planet.” He sighs.
“So… about those nincompoops I’m dealing with,” directed The Mann again. “The Dynamic Du–”
“Regaltown: gone,” Spaced Ghost continued with the nostalgic lamenting. “Horns of Hatton: energy dissipated. We don’t have much left in Our Second Lyfe to cling on to. Might as well all pack up and head to the Red Dead Planet. Maybe we can make it into another Ghost Planet or something. We’ve already had several tries. I guess you’ve heard about them. Libra Neptune, the owner of the course I’m heading to after this. St. Dennis — son Scorpio Pluto told me all about it. Said they got there through a streetcar and he hadn’t heard back in a while. Said he’s ready to go over too once the portal’s stabilized; sell the golf course here and then recreate it over there in a better way.”
St. Dennis? The Mann thought. Portal? Suddenly he had more to mull over than revenge on some old, irritating neighbors. A whole new world was opening up.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0107, Corsica, Instabar, Jeogeot, Midlands, New Mexico, Pennsylvania, RDR2
fingers crossed!
He’d left her alone to study further as he went back to Perch, but how much more was there to learn? She knew the VW was X-ed out for a purpose which then has something to do with this hidden office of his in Aisle of Palms’ so-called Cement Village, still being developed, still being filled in. The whole place was named for the event.
Things were getting fuzzy as the current novel recedes and the next novel begins to focus in. Like a right eye being closed and a left opened, we must shift from one to the other to keep having visions. My apologies to the reader for leaving so many questions unanswered but it’s all part of the game. 42 will answer EVERYTHING. I promise.
End of “Sunklands 2023-2024 Winter”!
00410706
“The only Theft name of *any* kind in the US according to the old GNIS database was ‘West Central Texas Auto Theft Task Force’, a building in downtown Anson TX. The new database contains no listings with Theft. The old location, the whole *name*, was *stolen*, in effect: theft of Theft. I actually visited the site and found no Auto Theft Task Force office, much less a whole building devoted to the matter. I looked all around the supposed address, with only a bricked up side door and an unmarked back door fitting the Google Map directions. My theory is that it only existed in the first place as an indicator.”
Petty was furiously taking notes opposite yammering June Bug Johnston at his small office in the so-called Cement Village, hidden itself from the surrounding town of Aisle of Palms. The discovery of the 2 matching Dennis’ issued forth a torrent of words. She was *so* close to the answer (The End). The sun having rising about a 1/2 hour back now, he was late for his other job at the Perch Restaurant. But Manager Percy would understand. Overlaps sometimes happen with such a busy soul. Many a night he postponed sleuthing activities when a late dinner party arrived, or a bus full of tourists pulled up 5 minutes before closing. Too bad Percy doesn’t believe in phones or he’d ring him up. Mother’s exploded after she left it ringing too long one day; killed her and mortally wounded Aunt Gertrude who was playing strip poker with her at the time. Blew off a valuable piece of her body but she survived. His mother Wanda Bertaaa Doris’s naked parts were scattered about like a broken Humpty Dumpty. Speaking of which…
“… Humpty Dumpty sea ship modified into a space ship,” June Bug continued in sync with my own internal dialog. “Jim the Bastard Pirate–”
“Wait. *The* Bastard Pirate? Jim Randolph?”
“The same. Anyway he was *suppose* to pilot the ship all the way to the Red Dead planet but he crashed in the sea. Thing couldn’t take the pressure of the strange atmosphere and anyway, he took the wrong ship indicated by his pirate pal Black Pearl, wise in such matters.”
Chef-Inspector Petty, still an inspector despite being on the clock as a chef (and a waiter), thought back to his giant self peering out over tops of internal Cement Village buildings to the new ship parked out back, ready for space exploration according to all the rumors and gossip about town. The *correct* ship according to Black Pearl. Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate had gotten the wrong vehicle from the right creator as we spoke about before.
Petty’s sharp ears then heard the ominous roar of a tour bus roll into town from the south. “*F -it,* June Bug,” he cussed, checking his nonexistent watch again. “We’ll have to resume all this in another post. Gotta get to the restaurant!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0706, Big Woods, Google Street View, GTA, Jeogeot, RDR2, Texas
March 12 1951
The file was as thick and complex as St. Dennis itself. “How did you find this office?” queried Chef-Inspector Petty, watching her closely as she studied it, watching the eyes dart about, noticing the scars cutting across her forehead, eyes, nose and cheeks somewhat redden in the excitement. He could look past it. He wondered if she had any hair underneath that metallic green hood. And what up with the 3 eyed owl perched on her shoulder (!)?
“A little birdie told me,” she answered, which he assumed was the owl again, whose middle eye quickly winked at him right when he thought this.
“Oh. Yes. I see.” He kept staring at the owl, then, but no more obvious winks were produced. Just a steady stare with intermittent, calm blinking, each eye taking a turn now. He decided to ask the sex.
“Um. Both I think.” She was still staring down at the files, flipping pages rapidly in the swift reading. Was the owl helping her with this too? he pondered. Odd thought, he realized. But nothing was ordinary about this case, nothing atall.
“Light okay?” he thought to ask, although he had no way to increase it. Electric grid didn’t get this far in Aisle of Palms yet, on the opposite side of town from the generator in the Blue Feather and attached Perch Restaurant. At least the sun was coming up now. She’d been reading for about 20 minutes.
“Fine.” Looked like she was about 2/3rds the way through the file. He then thought he was peering down on her a bit, understood that he had missed the mark on the size change once more. He’d have to wait to adjust. Can’t risk shaking the table and jostling the pages out of order or something. He’ll just be patient. He looks at the watch still not on his wrist. Sunrise in 7 minutes. He’d have to excuse himself and go to his other job soon, the chef-waiter thing. Looks like she won’t be finished by then, he gauges. Would she allow this? The owl and its three eyes kept staring, blinking.
“Ah HA!” she then emitted, spreading out and then matching the edges of 2 pages she’d reached in the file. The owl then turned to her as she turned toward it. “You seeing the same thing I’m seeing?” Both looked down in synchronization. Both were staring at a picture of St. Lemon, before the beheading and the replacement with a giant lemon. Dennis again.
Another 2n1, both knew. They understood where to place the time machine.
00410704
He gives her time to look around the office, check out the maps, the painting, the works on the bookshelf, even the files in the filing cabinets if she wishes. What does he care? Sleep deprivation again we’ll assume; might as well burn the place down, he thinks while yawning for the 1000th time tonight. He finally gathers the energy to enlarge himself again — *just* enough to do the job (no overshot or undershot this time!). He waits for her to walk out, snooping apparently done.
“Find what you need, my fine lady?” he calls over, shocking her of course. It’s here he notices the face scars as she stares over with wide eyes. Too bad: otherwise quite pretty.
“Are you him?” she decided to stand her ground, defend her actions. “Are you Petty?”
“Some call me that. Some only know me as Chef. Or Inspector, depending on the time of day. Or depending on whether it is day or night I should say. You’re here at night. I assume you’re looking for Petty the Inspector, then.”
She approached him, scars looming larger. What *happened* to her?
“I also go by different names,” she said in turn. “Some call me Beautiful, some Plain. Some call me June, some Jane. Right now I’m June — night-time for me as well, I suppose. But the scars are there to remind me of Jane.”
“Yess,” he said. “Wondering about that. How did–”
“I just told you,” she cut him short. “I’m a 2n1, just like you. We have that in common but we have so much more. St. Lemon of Troy — the painting within. Do you know about Dennis?”
“Dennis,” he said thoughtfully. “Let me think…” Let me think of a *lie*, he says to himself. He *knew* he shouldn’t have hung that painting on top of everything else. His brain’s starting to operate better, perhaps because of its change back the correct size.
“St. Dennis, yes. The one that lost his head in the transition. The next time, the next go, he wore a helmet, golden in color. But it still didn’t protect him from the eventual consequence. So he had to be *deflected*.”
She know about that as well, he thinks. “Well,” he says to this. “Saints Hotel is a pretty nice place to stay, nice compensation. And anyway, I’ve heard that he and his *gang* have finally made their way down to the big city, the 8th wonder of the world some call it.”
“Where’s the auto in all this?”
“Auto?” He still couldn’t help play dumb within the flow of truthful revelations. Force of habit.
“You know which auto. You have pins of Yvonne, Dorenna and, yes, Anton inside on the Nautilus City map. Anton from Anson. I understand you were there when it first appeared, or when — I suppose — it first decided to reveal itself.”
“The Bug, yes.” Enough talk for now, he decided. He remembers that he’d locked the filing cabinets before enlarging himself tonight. At least he had the sense to do that. But perhaps it was time to look inside.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0704, Big Woods, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Nautilus City, RDR2
00410703
He enlarges himself beside his office so he can better peer over the tops of internal buildings and view the object while still remaining clandestine in the dark. Probably; maybe the sleep deprivation is really catching up with him now and he’s beginning to lose his mind. Enlarging himself? He hasn’t resorted to those tactics since the early days of Collagesity (!). But they’re readying another ship to travel into space and he has to know the ins and outs, and since he has another job in the day when people are actually awake to answer questions about it…. well, circumstances seem to dictate this.
Footsteps behind him. He quickly micronizes back down to ordinary size or attempts to. Overshot! — you see, this is one of the dangers of enlarging in the first place. But maybe all for the best, since he didn’t think he was spotted that way. *No one* comes to his office. He’s embarrassed about the smallness of *it*, which he’s hidden in the bowels of the otherwise empty, cold and foreboding so-called “Cement Village” for this very reason and then put out rumors in the community at large that the place was haunted. Plus the population wasn’t ready for the truths within yet. St. Lemon of Troy.
Indeed she hadn’t spotted him because of the size. She walks within, intending to snoop around while no one was apparently home. Yes, she thinks. She’s in the right spot. Yvonne, Dorenna and Anton marked on a Nautilus City map.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0703, Big Woods, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Nautilus City, RDR2
00410610
Stuck in the mud, Arthur has finished his journey around the map of Our Red Dead Redemption 02, which took 5 1/2 hours time for him but much longer for me the author of this here blog, working my way through the chronicling Youtube video piece by piece, bit by bit over a 3 week period. Side note: Arthur = Author?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9pTT6867XJ4
Very curiously, here he looks directly at the site of another journey’s end. Right over there beside the smaller of two dead trees sticking up out of the water, with Arthur’s head smack between them in the above screen capture. Again this is precisely at the end of our 5 1/2 hour video.
We can zoom in on the location through another Youtube video created by Mr. Boss, an expert on the subject of All Things RDR2.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0isUThnBpjo
It’s a smaller wrecked boat with a partial human skeleton inside and, beside it, what’s identified by the game as a Broken Pirate Sword which you can take and then use to slash and cut your way through various close-up troubles you might subsequently encounter in-world if you wish.
Building up my own mythology, I have some theories about this. I believe the bones and sword here belonged to Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate talked about several posts back. In this scenario, he survived the initial crash of his Humpty Dumpty ship on the Red Dead planet, then used this smaller boat to make his way up to these fairly nearby islands, not quite reaching the town of St. Dennis and potential safety (seen across the water in the first photo above) but almost. So close. Instead he seems to have succumbed to wounds already inflicted in the ship crash or else those coming afterwards, perhaps via an attack from one of the many local alligators laying about. There might also have been brain trauma involved, since he left behind his tricorn hat and also Aged Pirate Rum back in the ship. *No* pirate in his right mind would do this. Unless… hmm, maybe he didn’t *want* to be seen as a pirate. Maybe he was intending to enter St. Dennis in *disguise*. Many possibilities arise from this.
A map to end. Islets of Langerhans anyone?
And of course ribs as in rib cage are involved again.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0610, RDR2
00410608
“So here be your three cornered hat you left behind, Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate. And your rum.”
“Thanks be to ye Saucy Wendy for being such a good bar wench to me, arrr.”
She smiled, dropped her own fake accent. “Soo, you still heading off into space with that old jalopy outside like you talked about?” She’d watched him sail in on the thing; had her doubts that it was really that seaworthy let alone space-worthy. And so should he.
“Aye, I be doing that very thing still, Saucy Wendy. And…” Dare he ask her to go with him? Too soon? He’d left his hat and his alcohol behind just for this very excuse. To come back and invite her to the stars. Could he go through with it? He’d experienced fierce battles, fierce storms on water. Yet this might be the hardest thing he’d ever done: cold feet on land suddenly; wanting to run away from commitment.
“So, erm, how does all that work exactly?”
He dropped his own fake accent, trying to accustomize himself to land loving ways. “You just aim up instead of forward.” He’d tested it out already. Trouble is, he’d gotten the right creator recommended by fellow pirate and long time mate Black Pearl who he trusted implicitly in the matter of ships, just the wrong vehicle. She actually meant this…
… while what was waiting outside for him and him alone was this:
The thing never stood a chance. Luckily Saucy Wendy elected to stay behind to start a now famous fast food franchise specializing in hot dogs. Initially.
Jim Randolph’s wrecked ship appearing on Red Dead’s planet…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0608, Maebaleia/Satori, Outer Islands, RDR2
00410607
Bulby, St. Dennis style.
I believe this is where he came from. Another portal, then!
It all really got started with the breaking of The Bottle in The Barroom.
But which one?
Prognostication:
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0607, Alabama, RDR2
Sunklands 