Category Archives: Lapara^

Afterwards…

“Where’s your wife, David Bowie? I mean, Little Tonshi.”

Little Tonshi then pitched the proposition. “Give me Wheeler (for that). And I’ll give you a whole ‘nother Second Life, Buster. A better one. Like Grand Theft Auto, except 1700 times more choice.”

“Umm… I don’t understand.”

Little Tonshi turned into just Tonshi. Bettie. “The airport on top of the hill. It’s not an airport, of course. It’s a recording studio. There I made ‘Heathen,’ my best later work. Many subterranean passages exist within. In one I’m myself and a shadow of myself.”

“Still not getting it…”

“You deserved better than this Buster. I have many friends that are aiding me. Levi Clownski said he would personally pay for your ticket outta here. He doesn’t want you around.”

“I said I’m sorry (about the killing). Many many years ago. Many times in many years.”

“This is not about that. I’ve learned to accept my fate obviously. We are not enemies. It’s just you don’t belong here.”

“Of course I do.”

“No.”

“Then where?”

—–

“*Where*??”

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2 I’s

“I’ve been living here a long time,” spoke Little Tonshi. “I have my great view, my own Table, even.”

“Are you going to change her back?” queried Buster Damm, talking about Wheeler on the couch between them.

“Not while she’s around me. David Bowie, David Bowie,” she said disgustedly. “*I’m* David Bowie. At least as much as her.”

“I must admit it’s a great view here,” he said. “What’s the movie tonight, hehe? Bowie, I assume.”

“Yes,” replied Little Tonshi. “The early years. The first 3 albums. Up to and including ‘Hunky Dory’.”

“Your masterpiece according to some.”

“‘Life on Mars’ was a surprise,” admitted the purple girl. “A shock, even. I realized I was extraterrestrial by then.”

Buster looked at one and then the other. “Someone will have to go,” he said. “There can’t be 2 David Bowies in this story.”

“Again I’ll leave it up to you. I can return Wheeler at any time. You can head to Ratcliff, then. Leave me back here up on my high mountain, the highest in Second Life.”

“Says some,” added Buster.

“Yes. Shush now. The show is starting.”

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reveal

“What did you do to my friend?” demanded Buster to Little Tonshi Ashokan.

She laughs, but not in a good way. “I turned her into what she really is. A clown. She will always be clowned. That’s how it is.”

They watched her continuously sway back and forth for a while, then Buster said: “What do I do with her?”

“Up to you.”

Another pause. “We were going to Ratcliff.”

“I know now. Nasty place. *Your* kind of place. What do we do with *you*?” She hesitated, then added: “… murderer.”

“Long time in the past,” Buster excused himself. “Been abiding by the ‘Book of Blood’ since then.”

“You killed me. You killed *me*.”

Buster remained unrattled. “What happened to your fangs? Did you have them removed?”

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falling for someone


A statue pointing two ways.


A figure pointing no ways.


Mysterious legs.


… and shadow.


Squaring the circle.


Windmills… whence she came.


Looking for a way inside.


Falling off the mountain.


Falling… falling…


“Oow.”

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Leaving the sim…

They had now reached the High Mountain Road where Baker Bloch sat the night before. Of course, Baker had long left the scene. He could be summoned, but Wheeler and Buster didn’t see the point. They seemingly faced another choice: to go back down to Olde Lapara Towne and deal with the changes (the carnival had left town for one thing) or move upwards more into the high hills of northern Lapara to theoretically meet this Little Tonshi Ashokan spirit who dwelt there.

And boy was the latter quite a climb. 200 meters basically straight up between a waterfall and thick forest (!).

Feeling his little legs ache already and thinking about what lived inside the nearby tunnel, Buster offered a 3rd alternative.


High Mountain Road Tunnel, Lapara… and rats.


Looking up the mountain once more.


Little Tonshi waiting patiently near the top. They would return.

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Neighbor

That same day, Wheeler and Buster also visited the Moai Shinto shrine next door to the tea house, complete with its own station along the SLRR. Wheeler didn’t understand what was going on inside, however. Easter Island head? What’s that got to do with Japanese culture? The fronting terra-cotta warrior statue was no good for information.

I tried to help her out by googling “Moai Shinto”, but only came up with links about this same virtual temple. I narrowed the search down to Shinto, and understood now, through the associated wikipedia article, this is, “the ethnic religion of Japan that focuses on ritual practices to be carried out diligently, to establish a connection between present-day Japan and its ancient past.” It is actually the largest religion of Japan, practiced by 80 percent of its population according to the article. I’d just forgotten this well known fact, and Wheeler through me. But what of the Easter Island head? I didn’t find a direct connection, but turns out that the word “moai” means statue.

The hypersensitive Buster, already rattled by leaf spectres, fainted upon seeing the incongruous giant yellow head. Poor Buster.


Tea house and shrine.

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Leaving Behind 02

“Hmm, some kind of randomly lit alcove wall Buster. Stop playing in the leaves!”

The tea house.

Perhaps an ancient map of Olde Lapara Towne, Wheeler thought.

And then…

the scrapbook again. “Nifty!”

“Buster, get your dead ass in here!!”

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Leaving Behind

Olde Lapara Towne below him lay just beyond his draw distance from this perch. He was admittedly glad of the pause. “What to do with this place?” Baker mumbled to himself. He asked Hucka Doobie to join him here on the High Mountain Road (aka Route 6) for a thinking session. But Hucka im-ed back, saying he was currently tied up helping an old friend prepare for a bar mitzvah over in East Farmington. Shucks. Baker Blinker and Karoz Blogger remained out of communication, having returned to Chilbo just after Mary’s launch into one of the distant corners of space (aka Muff-Bermingham). Wheeler Wilson was part of the current story, so that probably wouldn’t work. Heck, let’s just bring her up here, along with new bestest pal Buster Damm, he then thought. Let’s get them at least to that house just down the hill and see what happens.

—–

Summoned, Wheeler decided on a lark to teleport into the exact center of the Lapara sim to see what was there. A fence barred her from the house Baker Bloch just referenced. She took it as a sign that there would be no meeting between core Baker family members tonight. So on to her and Buster’s continuing adventures…

—–

Having managed to break away from the throng of protesters, thanks to the distraction of a huge popping noise in the southeast part of town (the aforementioned mushroom shaped explosion, quickly sucked in on itself due to the heroic action of All Nancy’s), Wheeler and Buster made their way across the tracks of the SLRR to the town’s northern suburbs. First up on their visiting list…

… was the Lapara TEA house owned by the real Clare Nova, a must see attraction for them.

They walked through a small but beautiful woods to get to the main structure of the compound. As we already knew from her PCH Forest featured in “Collagesity 2017 Early”, the real Clare is a landscape designer of note.

In the center of the woods, Buster became afraid because of what he perceived to be flying fish, perhaps piranhas, but which turned out to be just falling leaves.

Reaching the main gate of the house alone, Wheeler turned around. “Come on Buster! Stop playing in those leaves!”

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Abode

“Oh look Bettie. There’s Rocky. The guy who wrote the book.”

“But not the play,” added Bettie.

“Hi Rocky!” Nancy waves.

“It just appeared out of thin air,” he chanted to them from his stump seat. He kept looking up all googly eyed at the house, a smile upon his face as broad as Clownski Avenue. “Not 6 feet in front of me. I always wanted a house. God has rewarded my grand accomplishment.”

Nancy turned to Bettie, who just shrugged. “He’s the one who’s responsible for us being here,” she said. “Maybe he’s right.”

Bettie sighed. “Okay, we’ll remain in the hotel together. But I want you home at quarter past 8 at the latest tonight.”

Rocky saved the day yet again. As soon as the shock wore off, he was packing up his stuff in the hotel’s crawlspace. Rocky would go on to write many more novels after “Bible Truth” while based in the mushroom house, some better some worse. But none that came close to being as controversial. Or as cursed. Rocky’s path was set from this point on. Trajectory.

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repeatoverse

“Isn’t it adorable Nancy? Why keep renting at that expensive hotel when we — I mean I — can have a place of my own. Want to take a look inside?”

“Maybe later Bettie,” replies Nancy. “I have a date!”

“With whom?” Bettie could hardly conceal the venom.

“Danny, that’s who. Daniel. The guy in the play.”

“I know who Danny is. What do you expect to happen?”

“I don’t know,” states a puzzled Nancy, wondering about Bettie’s concern. “The usual. Dinner, dancing, maybe a couple of drinks mixed in. Then…”

“Then *what*?”

“I don’t know. He’s *cute.*” Nancy smiles and tries to nudge Bettie in the ribs. Bettie skillfully avoids the jab.

“This is not good. Remember the curse attached to that book, that play? You must always keep that foremost in your mind. The play’s the thing. Any extracurricular activity connected with it could spell trouble. Look at the protesters. This towne is like a ticking bomb.”

“Ridiculous,” responds Nancy. “It’s just a harmless date.”

But Bettie was right. The events of the play were repeating in real life, just reversed or inverted from before. Concealed in a way. The pattern remains, though. Now Bettie doesn’t have a gun but she has other weapons at her disposal. Poison, just like with the joke back at the hotel. Because, deep down in the depths of her soul, she was only half joking anyway.

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