Category Archives: Estate

October 5, 2025 · 6:04 am

00480303 (don’t be afraid to say the word)

I couldn’t tell whether they were talking about Vermont or New Hampshire from this distance so I had to zoom in.

Still not clear, but from my now floating lips position I did get this was all about a movement away from another state tucked even further into the northeast corner of our great country of the US of A: Maine. You could say that was the main topic of the conversation between Mouse and his greatest creation, another mouse, anthropomorphic in its case, named Pansy. We were in South America’s Amazon far removed from North because he thought he could get away from prying ears here, didn’t suspect me because I was at the resort when he arrived, let’s put it. Hired by the Gaston Berries to keep track of Mouse and his doings. More on them later maybe.

—–

“A sequence of 1 second shots,” shot back the doctor, following up on rules 34 and 35 already cited. They were exchanging ideas rapid fire on the edge of the cement pond shaped like New Hampshire or Vermont, reader’s choice from these angles.

“Yellow,” started Pansy.

“Blue,” replied the doctor.

“Green,” said the anthropomorphic rodent.

“Red!” issued the doctor named for said rodent to close the sequence.

They’d paced the words to be exactly 1 second apart, just like in the video they were referencing. TILE in summary, the ultimate poop product one could say in a vanilla not chocolate way, a different issuance.

Then the golden gloved one emerged from a static filled background at the center to tell the rest of its story.

(to be continued (?))

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October 4, 2025 · 6:41 am

00480302 (the return of All Orange)

“Dammit! Crashed again. Stoopid game,” and he hit the side of the machine with the palm of his hand. Hard.

She stumbled out of the wrecked WV VW into a conveniently placed convenience store, yellow fully removed from her attire to go along with the totaled golden auto. Mysteriously handy Dr. Paul Mouse was alerted to the accident, rushed to the scene. Is this her? he asked himself, palms sweaty from anticipation. He raised the shirt a bit, didn’t have to be much. Red green blue circling around a yellow highlighted navel. This was her. This was *her*!

Smelling salts revived her. All she saw before she blacked out was pink, she said when awakened. She stared up at Mouse. “I’ve been looking for you for a looong time, missy,” he said, a wicked smile upon his mouth. She wasn’t going to be able to get away as easily this time.

And so she became his daughter, *carma* involved for both.

He turned away from the pinball machine toward the clapping, highest score achieved for the month.

“Alice?”

(TBC)

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September 14, 2025 · 8:18 am

00480115 (another one of those Hana Leis)

“Yes, how are you doing Father?” One of them, she thinks privately, because there remains great doubt that this Dr. Mouse, originally Dr. *of* Mouse, could actually be the biological one. *Psychological*: yes. But Axis and the confirmed DNA tests — 2 of ’em — still looms large in the background. Greg Ogden without his copper toned hair, she also knows now. So strange.

Mouse answers. “Come *home*?” she utters about his request as she watches Chet take another dive under the waves. “But I like it *so much* here. No drama, no tension. Just surf and sun and fun.” Immediate reaction, but Alice also knew he was paying for all this. He could cut off the funds. She had to comply with his wishes. “2 more weeks?” she tried to bargain. Mouse answers. “2 *days*?”

“Your mother needs you,” Mouse explained as best he could now. She wasn’t dying or anything like that; she was just in trouble, he said. Trouble but not sick or dying or anything like that. What could it be? she ponders after the click that ended the call. 2 days. She’d have to say goodbye to the dogs. And rock’n surfer boy Chet out there. He couldn’t come along, she knew — started band practice in Caledonia day after tomorrow with the Andersons, bassist Karl and then little Sherwood on drums. Good with the hands Sherwood was on this rock music. And Karl at least looked good on Paper (their “hit” single). Run with Scissors they were called. And I believe we have former runner-of-a-diner Biff Carter as band manager to end that 4 part string. We’ll see if they actually show up again in this here blog and attached photo-novels or are a kind of hard to get, one-off joke like so many others of its type.

(to be continued)

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August 28, 2025 · 4:02 pm

00470615

“Oh Eddy. Look at the time. We’ve got to end this thing (!).” But they stood still, at least for a while.

“You were complimented, you know,” he said after a spell.

“Was I?” She shifted her position toward him. She was never complimented. Especially by you-know-who.

“Yeah. Inside the Dark Peak. Someone messaged me, said that I was a lucky lucky boy to have you, And I am (!).” He left out the “beautiful” part for some reason. He probably shouldn’t have, maybe switching it out with lovely. Too late now.

“Oh Ed. That’s sweet (!).” And she leaned over and kissed him on not the mouth but the cheek. After a pause: “Soo… should we go back this morning?”

“Austin’s Island?” he said, thinking she might have meant another location.

“Whichever.” And after making sure all their clothes and attachments had rezzed in properly in this safer space to prevent lag or even premature log off (happens more than it should for them, especially Shelley), they teleported away from this place. The Ring just couldn’t hold them any longer.

Goodbye Old New Island. Or New New Island — haven’t decided which is which yet. Or actually which one is realer than the other. I’m guessing New, whichever that turns out to be. We’ll see soon enough!

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August 27, 2025 · 3:19 pm

00470614 (When one door closes…)

Lexi enters her rented Gaston room once more, notices things are a bit different, a bit off. Not as much character now. That wall over there, she then spots it. Untextured, and with no secret door. And that… window?

—–

He moved the secret door formerly beneath this flapper girls painting back behind the spiral staircase going upwards if not downwards. Just in time, because dizzy Philip needed a place to lie down after his episode, guest bedroom formed behind it in the process. “You stay here as long as you need, Philip, to recover. I’ll make sure Lexi and Nada know where you are.”

“Rest,” is all he could manage from his prostrate position, then shut his eyes again.

Soon Lexi and Nada were also by his side in this tiny, crowded new room. “Is he dying?” Nada asked Frank and Lexi, a small portion of her only 1/2 hoping he wasn’t. “Um,” says Lexi. “Er,” says Frank. “He’s had these episodes before,” stated a new person coming through the secret door and entering. Or simply standing at the “door” because there wasn’t any more room in the room. Marion Star Harding, named for yet another Ohio president that was never a president. Like R. “Booger” Hayes before him, the president/non-president that started all that. Hayes, Garfield, Harrison, McKinkley, Taft, Harding. Yeah: that’s the end of it, at least for the good people of Ohio. And Harding knew fellow Ohioan Sherwood Anderson, penner of “Winesburg”, or at least Anderson’s father. In the small village of Caledonia of that state. More synchy stuff. Played in a school band with him most likely, although the records aren’t definitive. No recording of their music either of course, that being back in the late 1800s. Might as well be from the Dark Ages. Back to the action…

“Who *are* you?” exclaimed Frank, wondering how this stranger found out about his castle in the skies… in *disguise*. He looks at both Nada and Lexi on either side. “Friend of yours perhaps?” producing headshakes instead of the expected nods. “They can’t remember,” says Marion to this surprise, because, as we’ve seen, they all know each other in Gaston. *Knew* each other. “Not with *you* around.”

“Me?” utters Frank innocently. Then it begins to dawn on him. He *wrote* about this. As he recalled the character, Marion Star Harding fades from the scene. Philip has a new original partner in crime.

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August 26, 2025 · 7:44 am

00470613

“You were standing right where you are now,” explained Philip as best he could from the couch again. “You said, get this, Newton’s ship *just blew up*. Like *that’s* going to happen. We’ll be out of here by tomorrow’s today. I’m on record for not liking it but that’s what’ll happen I suppose. Nawt Vaya here we come (sarcastic tone of voice).”

“But…” stammered Marion, indeed at the window and that’s about it for the truth of Philip’s talk, at least in his own world view. “… Newton’s ship *did* blow up. The atomics he used to supercharge the sim skipper malfunctioned — imagine that: dangerous atomic *fission*. If only he’d waited for fusion, but I guess we didn’t have the time. OR the effort, pheh.”

“Fission — dangerous? Nah. You’re on drugs, Marion.”

“*You’re* on drugs,” Marion quickly shot back.

And Philip realized he was, or the equivalent thereof.

It was that damn High Speed game. It reactivated something in his brain. He was in 2 places at once when… well, you know. Nowhere at all actually. The Void.

He kept falling and falling and falling. “Help!” he yelped. “Hellllllppppp!” But noone was there, not even a single Beatle. If he would have waited for Yesterday, but he assumed that would only be tracking backwards. Right over the retired, NON-atomic sim skipper named Dizzy Miss Lizzy Gastonites will have to manage with from now on, or at least until fusion.

But it doesn’t have the power to get them all the way to Nawt Vaya. Just some neighboring sims like Hard Days Night and Californication at best. Local travel only.

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August 24, 2025 · 3:14 pm

00470611

Not yet, then.

First, to deal with all the whiteness…

—–

“Looks like they landed in Victoria Harbor first,” he talks aloud to himself while studying the Hmm material in one of the many ring binders piled up all around him. “That’s where– Gus! Could you keep it down up there!”

“Let’s see… the list, yes, that’s where he– Gus! Dammit, better check in on him.”

“Gus, that’s too much wood. Put away some of the wood. I’m starting to sweat! And I can’t concentrate because of all the crackling. Tone it down!” Then Frank Lynn remembered Gus’s power and decides to add, “Please.” Don’t want to anger the fire deity that holds this whole giant castle together!

Gus puts away some of the wood.

“Now, where was I?”

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August 23, 2025 · 1:14 pm

00470610

Trying to keep my head above the water.

7 6 posts to go! Will I make it by the end of August?? We’ll return here (MISTY-MO), but probably not in the current photo-novel. Must end with an N, soo… back to Nawt Vaya!

—–

“We’ve halfway lost Greg Ogden; and Philip Strevor, Lexi [insert last name], and Nada New Year are also fading out around the table here. We have to do something, Newt! Nawt Vaya is in peril!

“And finish whatever needs to be done by 7 so we won’t miss any of our TV viewing time!” *click*

—-

Soon Newt manifests high in Frank’s Moving Castle again, far above Wheeler and her vanishing troupe of avatars down in the entrance room. He inserts the magical glass of freshly squeezed lemonade from an unblighted Juho citrus tree he brought along with him into the face of the fire and backs away.

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August 22, 2025 · 9:36 am

00470609

“It just BLEW UP. I was staring right at it. And it just POOOOOPH.”

“We could have been on that boat, Marion,” says Hucka. “We could have been blown up too!”

“Blown up *real* good,” added Philip from the couch.

Nada and Lexi walk in from the back. “We heard the explosion!” says Nada. “What happened?”

“Newt’s sim skipping ship blew up that’s what happened,” uttered Marion, still reeling from the shock. How are they going to get, well, to wherever they were going *now*?

“Good,” says Philip, producing stares from all.

“Newton’s probably *dead*, Philip,” says Marion. “Now no brothers in the Orange family are left. What of poor Mama Mitchell?”

“Welll, how old is she? Is she, you know, too old to have kids now? What, you know, I’m saying is that they can be replaced. Maybe.”

“NOT the point, Philip. A man is dead. His hard work has been destroyed too. We’ll never get another one like that.”

“You know,” said Hucka. “Philip might be right. Oh, not about Newton being dispensable of course but us leaving. Maybe it’s good we’re not able to leave now. Philip… you have your opium plants. And Marion, you have your pot field.”

“It’s *both* our field,” says Philip. “But… go on… *I’m* at least listening.”

“And what about Phil?” she says, confusing all.

“I’m right here.”

“No not you Phil-IP. Phil. With no -ip at the end. Down at the Rhino. We’re suppose to talk to him. Maybe he can’t be communicated with at any other location.”

“Possibly,” allows Marion, also wondering about all the aspects of “we” she mentioned.

“Hey Marion,” asks Philip out of left field, suddenly remembering a glimmer of something else in all the excitement. “Whatever happened to that girl we were with? You know, the shape shifter. Helen I believe. Hermania.”

“Heidi,” spoke Marion from the window. “Heidi Hunt Ives.” Every Blue Moon Philip brings her up. And then promptly forgets again.

“Yeah… her.”

Marion didn’t answer because he knew she was at the bottom of a sea too, just like Newton’s sunken vessel out there. Our stolen “Little Bug.” Tears come to his eyes as he watches the still lingering smoke from the explosion drift around the bay. He tried to save her, he really did. He rationalizes he did the best he could… working by himself. If only Philip could have helped.


“I’m coming Little Bug!” **leap**

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August 21, 2025 · 8:00 pm

00470608

“Atomic energy,” Newt theorizes about the main way Gaston’s Newton revamped his now deceased older brother Stewart’s sim skipping ship. “Put it at the end of Barry De Boy’s ‘Does This Look Square to You?’ series. Claimed to be named for Isaac Newton but Jasper County’s right below and so instead it should be John.”

“John Newton, twin sergeant to William Jasper during the Battle of Ft. Moutrie in the Civil War,” Newt’s ever-partner Wheeler says more to the reader than anyone, since Newt knows all that. “And Newton County MS being the only county in the state that’s totally square. One Mississippi, two Mississippi — woops. Forgot the zero (!)”

“You finished?” Newt asks from the sacred ottoman under the sacred 4 colors add 4 more. Staring at giant versions of bread and milk on a big tin of perhaps choco chip cookies. Wheeler from the now not as sacred couch was staring at it too.

“Yeah. You go now.”

“I go now,” accepted Newt. “Wellll… we have a problem, a conundrum. We have Marion, Hucka, Philip, Nada, Lexi and probably Greg coming to Nawt Vaya here through that sim skipping ship.”

“Yeah? What’s the problem? They’re *here*. All of them. Except Marion and Hucka it seems.”

“But–”

“No butts. Continue.”

(to be continued)

“OH, I remember what we were going to talk about. This *couch*. And the bread and milk. And the whole location for Crooked.”

“Yeah,” says Newt. “Is this room, this building, actually here in Nawt Vaya, or is it over in Gaston? Could be both of course. But, what I’m asking is…”

“… which one’s more real?”

(to be continued)

“More real there.” Newt pauses. “Did I just skip over the end of the post?

—–

The couch is more comfortable and has more animations.

The bread and milk are normal sized.

The room has more character.

More real there, yeah. We continue….

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