Category Archives: Estate

Bakers… and Wheeler

I think we have a new candidate for an alchemical experiment going wrong that you originally assigned to Bart Smipson here in photo-novel 09.” They were in the past. Which was also the present.

“Lemongrab, yes. I’ve heard,” the female Baker replies to the male Baker. She reads the blog even if she hadn’t appeared in it for a while. “Sink into Sunklands”. It’s taped to her bathroom mirror so she’ll remember at night. Just before bed. She understands they, the Baker family of avatars and friends, are struggling to establish Lemon Free State in the middle of Nautilus. Thus Lemongrab, who here goes by Mike. And Lemongrab 2 is his now female (?) mate Pat. Both found quickly on the Our Second Lyfe marketplace through a search for complete avatars using keyword “Duke.”

“Does that make you Princess Bubblegum?” He pivots his head, takes her overarching pinkness in. “You always wanted to be a mother, Baker Blinker. You always wanted… *boys*.”

“Not *those* kind of boys,” she shot back.

“Oh sure you do. You were jealous of Wheeler from the beginning.” He knew to let the matter drop after that. They’d been through the transference a 1000 times now, reviewed every aspect. In the early days of such analysis Baker Blinker was trying to assert herself as the queen ruler again, with Baker Bloch by her ever-side as Prime Minister. Like in the UK as opposed to the US, which had just gone to hell. Wheeler, early on again, was kind of like 2016 Trump happening at the same time, the new ruler, the wannabe *dictator* — obvious to them if not a big chunk of the country still surrounding their safe patch of virtual irreality up in the main world. Where Mike and Pat originally come from in Missouri, North Carolina and Tennessee respectively. This was all fate.

And she’s still married to original “king” Karoz Blogger — that hadn’t changed, despite all the other stuff that has occurred since they tied the knot in photo-novel 02 and originally started dating in 01. It seems to be one constant of the blog and attached photo-novels. Perhaps the ultimate one. The ability of two to manifest at once and live and interact together as husband and wife. Then: Wheeler.

—–

She ditched the remainder of the crazy blue outfit, made the scars in her face deeper and more off-putting to fit into this world better.

“Last Drop, good,” she said, staring at the the sign of the place on the edge of the Fissure, which some call the Fracture just to be ornery about established protocol. “I have a place to eavesdrop on new gossip.” In particular, she was looking for Jed, who now seems to go by John (the Mind Reader) or perhaps Incognito, obvious enough nod to a disguise, a covering up of an origin rooted in one of those complicated North-South type disputes. And *Stitches.* “Ted,” she mouths his own new name aloud while thinking about all this.

“Yes?”

She twirls in her tracks.

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Mike and Pat

“We have arrived too late.”

“Too late,” said the other, just as frustrated with him as he with her.  One AM and one PM. But they couldn’t remember who said what. Thus the mutual blame game, which would spill over with the toys before bedtime. Because there was nothing left to do but sleep.

“Twelve hours you.”

“Twelve hours *you*”

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lordy lordy lordy

“Nah, I think you boys have it backwards. Go back and check. Pull Ted in with you this time, John, since he has the better peepers. Go up the stairs or down the stairs or however you do it — together.”

“Down,” said John to this. “I always head down.”

“Well there you go.” And Al was finished with the story for now and waved them outta his palatial office. Tom showing up in 1/2 an hour, one the more uppity uppers. He had to prepare, emotionally as well as mentally. Brace himself for what is coming.

The truck that had turned lime green in the meantime arrived at the Dorr’s house in Tyrone, New Mexico just south of mural filled Silver City where it was rented day before yesterday’s last week by the Horns.

Finally united for a common cause, they cautiously made their way up to the azure blue front door, Horns of Hatton activated. They paused at the bushes; peered around the corner to see what Good they were up against. The portal opened creakily from the other side. They turned away just in the nick of time. They noticed one of the angels was sight challenged — in shadow — while the other with his big, lidless eyes definitely could see the truck if not them. They had made a huge mistake in driving it here.

“Dude,” read that one to the other in the doorway. “Not Dud. Al was right. It wasn’t the *past*. It’s the *future*.”

The Devil couldn’t get away with it this time. He’d have to exit Grant. He took depossession of the body. Grant was saved by the powers of the door. Of the Dorrs.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0209, Google Street View, Illinois, New Mexico, The Waste+

00380208

While Ted went to get help, I watched her start jumping up and down on the thing, the alien object — whatever it was.

At the same time nearby:

I tried to turn off the noise of the bouncing bed springs but couldn’t. Something was coming to a peak. Grant!, she shouted. Grant!!!

We were back.

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shallow water

It was so cold in here you could see your breath. But people didn’t mind. Celebrities in the audience!

“Good morning afternoon evening everybody!” Her standard opening line. “Welcome to the klub that’s going to put Kedas back on the map!” And then the requisite plug. “Brought to you by Sprite lemon-lime drink. The drink soo clean…” and here she paused to pull one of their sodas from her dress somewhere and chug. She retreats the can from her mouth, aaahs loudly, then: “…Grant *Hill* recommends it!” Cheers from the audience. Grant Hill is in attendance. He makes eye contact with me from where he’s sitting across the reflected green floor. Just briefly, enough to make me know he’s aware of what’s going on, if only in an unconscious way right now. Two Hills, PHEH, he may be saying internally. If he could only turn over the blueprint to his life he could see.

—–

“Dreaming again on that plank, Ted.”

“Just leave her this time. No need to tell Al.”

“I agree.”

“Got us into a lot of trouble before.”

“I remember.”

“Lot of paperwork.”

“I recall.”

“Anyway. Why don’t you enter her mind and see what’s going on.” So John the Mind Reader did. After a pause:

“Soo, what’s happening?”

“Apparently,” John surmised, “the past. Or a version thereof.”

“In-teresting.” They both had changed their minds about Al. The uppity higher up needed to be informed of this. New development!

(to be continued)

—–

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00380206

She barely made eye contact with him to acknowledge his presence. Cyberpunks, hmph, he thought. “Business good tonight, Lexi? Selling many sodas on top of the regular alcohol?”

“Whoa whoa there daddy blow. One question at a time. Try again.” She kept dancing to the beat that hadn’t started yet. DJ was still relaxing and chilling and drinking before the gig. While she had the time.

He skipped to the most important one. “Have — you — sold — many — *sodas*? On top of the alcohol which I know will do good,” he sped up.

“Two Hills,” she instead said.

“W-what?”

“Two Hills.” And she pointed to the left, the opposite way of the horn.

“Oh yeah. It’s a promotion.” He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing it could have been something else. Too early! “Now back–”

“Why does there have to be two?”

“*You* have two,” he wanted to answer, but then thought better of it. Maybe she didn’t. Was she a girl or boy? He never figured it out. I guessed she’d have them either way — doesn’t matter.

His lemon-lime drink awaited at the table. He looked around, seeing a lot of soda imbibing with his own two peepers. One over in the far corner had a Dr. Peeper. He resisted the urge to rush over there and swat it outta his hands, causing a scene. No scenes, his brother Benny Right Horn warned. “Tonight must go nothing wrong.” His words, not mine, Jer thought. That’s why he’s not here. Too drunk and coked up to make a proper showing of himself instead of a proper spectacle of himself. Typical. Cokeheads not allowed.

“Anyway,” he finally answered Lexi the bartender, still dancing to an imaginary beat or a beat from the future perhaps that only she can hear with her futuristic head and ears, “it kind of goes along with the idea of doubling the fun or doubling the pleasure.” He locked briefly with her sci-fi black within green within blue eyes. She was finished with him, he knew.

—–

He sat down beside her. The Hills came square to the camera, a horn curled against one of their cheeks.

“How is the wine?”

“Pretty tasty!” She downed another guzzle.

“Load up while you can. But not — too much. Take a swig of soda every now and then. People are watching.” He indicated the ads beside them. “Can’t let down the Hills.”

“Oh no.”

“Mike should be showing up soon.”

“And Pat,” she said. “I also invited Pat.”

“Oh boy.”

“Maybe. We don’t know!”

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Knight returns

She opened the red doors. She came down the stairs to face him. He looked at the different hair.

“I– I thought you went… away,” he rasped.

“No.”

“But–”

“It’s the future, right? *I’m* from the future. Not the present. I’m not a present to be opened any longer.”

“Buut–”

She knew he wanted to see. So she showed him. His “boys”. “Do you understand? Now?”

He wilted at the sight. “Y-yes.”

“I’m DJ-ing at Kedas Klub tonight. I want you to come. I want you to *see*.”

“Kedas?” he mimicked.

“Yeah. Another one owned by the Horns. The Nightsity location shut down.”

“I–.”

“Just *come*.”

—–

“And bring Pat if you wish,” she thought to add while walking back up the stairs to go outside again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0205, Jeogeot, Michigan, Newtown+, NIGHTSITY, Oooo

what is…

“Look! The Moon has come out from behind some clouds. We’re saved!”

“That’s just old Xianity superstition,” replied wannabe lover Johnny Blank to this, hoping she wouldn’t go down that road again, the Jesus Saves one. He’s Muslim and he’s going to stay that way! And Cylinder is Jewish so that’s that. Found God a while back but a different one from mine, and a different one from Gloria’s. But we still seem to be getting along. For now, he thinks.

Gloria stares and stares. With hate. Just like long long ago when she first got this role. The Moon grew a mustache and beard, peered down at her in ultimate superiority and changed birds into bees, flowers into trees. Not God. Something better, she realized. A Dark Lord. She’d been thinking about it for years, but hadn’t said anything about her insights. A good Christian woman she was to others still. Until the Big Reveal. She’d been pondering it for months. She’ll act on it in days. Xianity, as my *friend* Johnny Blank puts it, doesn’t *have* any superstition like that. She made it up. But, being Muslim, he wouldn’t know the difference. Maybe a perfect match after all, a perfect foil. I set them up he knocks them down.

“Johnny,” she says seductively, moving her pointing finger over to his shoulder, making an “X” on it to mark him as a target. “Tell me about your family again, your overbearing father, your loving but absent mother.”

“She *died*. She wasn’t absent.”

“Oh right right.” She sat up with this, looked up to the still visible Moon for strength. “I… forgot.” The Moon went behind clouds and she suddenly became sad, spell over.

(to be continued)

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sides (sandwich?)

“My Mama doesn’t like the way I crucify the Lord in vain. Defend yourself, you and your Crazy Blue.”

She lowered her arms. She went to a place earmarked for such a discussion. Still on the BIONaz Gulch-Nightsity line (of sims) — in this case Dottieback. She checked the whole line last night, just hopping around on it randomly, spotting a potential structure and then beaming in. Worked in BIONaz Gulch’s Fantasyland (pictured above), in Othello’s Nightsity. Maybe it can work again. The “city” here has to develop a bit to make it useful, though, she thinks from her position of power, standing above the line instead of being absorbed. Crucified Christ indeed.

Changing back into her standard garb, she stared at the lines on her screen. Nautilus once more. Continental centerpiece. She smiled at the insights.

Yes this will work, she said, suddenly planning a party down at her new beach house, Edward included. She hasn’t given up on him. Omega. Arthur Kill will come to understand the difference between novel and reality. Takes two to know.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0613, Long Islands, Nautilus, NIGHTSITY, Upper Austra, Wild West

Ghergie silhouette

After all the bad news lately, Newt is encouraged by finding a purple cube in a residence owned by a Sands, obvious nod to The Void again, an important important concept now in these here photo-novels, numbers growing bi- or tri-monthly. Things (post generation) seem to be slowing down a bit lately as virtual shifts more to physical, Our Second Lyfe into Real Life. He’d just driven a lime green truck, color symbolic of irreality itself, through a wall in a bar and down a dusty road outta here. Found the center again: Fife. But the levee was dry. Barney was off his tits again, trading places with Otis Campbell as town drunk. Just like in, what was it, Lassie? Anyway, it all seemed fruitless, especially since Squared Root City went away sometime in the past several days. Nowhere now to further the plot of Shelley, with help from her keyboard talented mom, rehearsing her Crazy Blue act. She beamed in just yesterday to find abandoned land, the whole sim of Squared Root now vacant. PHEH (add that to the PHEH category, folks!). And also the bigger chunk of Nightsity got deleted about the same time so perhaps no furthering of the story there either, seemingly, although a small part remains in that case. And so tonight finds Newt just roaming around his new-ish neighborhood in what he’s deemed Lemon Free State (independent from both Lower Austra and Wild West of Nautilus’ declared continental states), trying to figure out if it’s all worth it, the monthly rent to the Lindens, etc. Death wish taking over again. Then the cube: encouragement for a change! Perhaps Grant Hill and his Sprite drinking ways is still around after all, lemon combined with lime to make it all taste better, not bitter.

—–

The blue phone rings in the Sands house just as writer Barry X. Vampire is ready to head back to the Omega continent for more excitement and adventure. Whatever happens, we always have that. The End, which also loops back to The Beginning, ouroboros complete. Must be Wheeler, as in Wilson. Better get it.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0611, Lower Austra, Nautilus, NIGHTSITY, Omega, Wild West