Category Archives: Heterocera

Norum College

In happier news for Karoz, his new school of learning keeps developing. He’s decided to call it Norum College, housed in the old Norum Gallery building formerly featuring the work of collagist Julie Sadler. Karoz wants to hang at least one of her collages in the college but hasn’t chosen which yet. The Norum Gallery sign has been retained for the school.

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Applicants for the college are suppose to show up in person on the bottom floor, where Space Ghost and Cardboard Derek Jones help them sign up. Karoz is still preparing promotional pamplets, along with the application packet itself. But this is roughly how it will look when the room is finished.

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The second floor is devoted to the vast subject of science, perhaps focusing on the experimental side, such as Tesla inventions and theories.

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On the third floor so far, we find these 3 easels. It’s obvious that Karoz wanted to hold at least painting classes here but he was running out of prims after the splurge on science from the floor below. We’ll have to see how it balances out. Baker Bloch is hoping that the college will place more emphasis on art in the end. It is *Collage*sity, after all.

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Baker may live on the top floor in serving as custodian for the school. As of this writing, he’s won out over Karl for the position. But what will become of Karl now?

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The most ambitious project slated for the college has to be this rocket ship Karoz is designing in the tower section of the House of Truth. He plans to take it all the way to Second Life’s lone moon, and after that… well, better save some surprises for later(!).

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After giving Baker Bloch a tour, they sit in Karoz’s apartment and look out on southern Minoa and Sikkima while sipping Absinthe from a bottle, a surprise gift from Old Kent (shark). Oh, but it comes with a sort of price tag: “Don’t change,” the accompanying note simply read. He doesn’t plan to; no worries there.

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Mossy

He teleported in a little way into the woods. He approached the house and then spotted the rocking woman. Too late to retreat back or teleport away in case he had been seen in turn. He strolled out of the woods and onto the porch. He did not know the woman. She didn’t stop rocking to greet him.

“Is… Baker Blinker home miss?” he asked, peering down at her from near the door. He could not stand in front of her because he would sink through the floor — right on the sim line.

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“No need to be so formal Karoz,” she spoke in a somewhat derisive tone. “We are kindred spirits of sorts.”

“Who are you?”

She finally looked up at him. “I’m Mulholland. Dr. Mulholland. Not to be confused with Mulholland Dr. because that would be the reverse.”

“I don’t understand. Is Baker home or not?”

She didn’t answer him directly. “You had your chance Karoz Blogger. You criticized her eyes, and then when she tried to get you both to change in tandem you held back. Look at you.” She scanned him top to bottom. “A moss being, the texture of standard Linden default grass. Do you really think that’s so attractive?”

“I am what I am,” Karoz defended himself. “My father was a moss being and my true mother was an alien, perhaps of a praying mantis variety. We cannot change who we are.”

“Can’t we?”

“If Baker Blinker is not home I’ll take my leave.” He was getting angry and frustrated.

‘No. she’s here,” answered Dr. Mulholland, or the person claiming to be so. She called inside: “Baker?!” An old friend here to see you.” Karoz peered through the window on the porch offering a view of the couch inside, and a bit of the bedroom. “Baker?!”

They both waited. No one came to the door.

“Looks like she doesn’t want company right now. Maybe you should ring her up in a week or two. Maybe you can even be friends down the road. Or drive.”

He left without saying goodbye. Next stop was the Hole in the Wall bar just around the corner, where he could drowned his sorrows, and where reborn Rhoda was still trying to remove her own blood stains from the counter.

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Ch-ch-ch 02

Baker Blinker wakes up. “That was a strange dream.”

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Blood Dr.

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“You watched a collage film by baker b. called “Blood Dr.” John Lockfry 01. What did you think of it?”

“Confusing,” he said. “Bizarre. I don’t understand any of it, really.”

“Well, you obviously remember Jacobi’s cabin within,” continued Carrcassonnee. “You crossed the ash line to enter, with Benji back then. How is Benji anyway?”

“I don’t know,” replied John Lockfry 01.

“I have a picture of Benji here, actually,” the great olive being then said. “Perhaps you will recognize it. Let me put it against that far wall, above Baker Blinker’s bed she sometimes uses while staying in my Collagesity. Oh, it appears she is still sleeping there… didn’t see her, ha ha.”

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John Lockfry 01 pivots to view the picture above a still drowsing Baker Blinker Karl. His curiosity piqued, he gets up. “Is it okay if I take a closer look?”

“Maybe we should rouse Baker Blinker first. Baker Blinker?” Carrcassonnee pauses. “Baker?” She paused again. “Well, I hate to wake her up from such a sound sleep, so go ahead and approach the picture. Just do it quietly.”

John Lockfry 01 gets up and moves toward the picture, stopping just in front of the bed. He stands there for a moment…

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…and then returns to his seat in front of Carrcassonnee. He speaks to John Lockfry 02. “That’s the picture in the cabin. You remember, don’t you?”

“We don’t exactly have the same memories, Past Lockfry.” he responds. “I remember entering the cabin with a dog and seeing a picture of a human on the wall. It is backwards for me. I stand outside the magic circle now, looking in wistfully.”

“But that’s the dog Benji,” reinforces John Lockfry 01. “From the movie.”

“Yes, that’s how I entered the cabin. With Benji.” John Lockfry 02 stares at John Lockfry 01, wondering if he understands the ramifications of what he’s saying.

Carrcassonnee attempts to explain. “John Lockfry 01, we’re in a collage film right now, as I speak. Collagesity is a perpetual collage. It doesn’t stop at the movie theater up in Collagesity Heights any longer. It is here with us. It is now. It is. But we better talk about Crabwoo. That’s in [Blood Dr.] as well. Let me put the image in your mind this time.

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John Lockfry 01 lurches back. “Whoa… yeah, I remember that. What the heck?”

“Crabwoo,” Carrcassonnee repeats.

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Gloomy Gus

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“So you see, Past Lockfry. This has to be the equivalent of Jacobi’s Cabin in Collagesity. It is protected by a magic circle, a disused railroad in this case…”

“… and a circle of ash in the past,” completed John Lockfry 01. He was starting to catch on.

“Then there’s the rocking chair powered on its own, without anyone we can perceive sitting there.”

“Jacobi, again.”

“Yes. I cannot cross the magic circle, which tells you, if you’re perceptive, what I have become in the future. Can you guess?”

John Lockfry 01 didn’t know.

“You will see,” came the reply. “I will leave you on your own to examine the cabin, er, house. Meet me at Carrcassonnee’s at 0900 tomorrow morning. Don’t be late. Good luck.”

John Lockfry 02 disappears from John Lockfry 01’s side. John Lockfry 01 approaches the circular railroad. He’s left the magic circle, but can he return the same way?

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In his case: yes.

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Wheelchair

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“So Mr. John Lockfry. Tell me about this island you are from?”

“Well, Jack my large blue friend, it’s the most beautiful place you’ll ever see or visit. Lush vegetation. Climate that’s always comfortable. Rain, but such that refreshes. And the most important thing of all: it’s alive.”

“Sounds like where I’m from, actually,” responds Jack in his lower register voice. “The moon Pandora orbiting a gas giant in the Alpha Centauri system. Well, actually I was originally from Earth like you, and only inhabited this body as an avatar or distant soul. But then the central Tree of Souls allowed me to enter it permanently as almost all other Earthlings and their avatars left our moon.”

John examines his knife again. “Hmph. Taking it all in, it does sound like we have a lot in common. But what about this wheelchair?” He pointed toward it with his knife. “It’s parked here in front of us. We both feel… uncomfortable with it being there.”

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“Very true.” replied Jack. “It is a joined past. I was wheelchair bound before permanently entering the strong Na’vi body you see before you. You were a wheelchair bound mortal before coming to your special island and having your own crippled body healed.”

John Lockfry had an insight. “Maybe, deep down, the island and the moon are the same.”

“That is correct, comrade,” said a well dressed man appearing at the door. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am John Lockfry Two and I am from the future.”

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“John Lockfry too??” both exclaimed.

“Yes.”

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Bitch

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“Oh, I got woes floaty man. Yes I do.”

“You gonna order anything today, Karl?” asks Rhoda impatiently, his little stick arms protruding from below his oval, blue-green body per usual. He is a true flattie or cutout in both Real Life and Second Life — rather unusual. “‘Cause I got a business to run,” he continues in his slightly nasal voice. “A new business. Old Kent is looking over us all the time from… heaven, yeah. You gotta order something. You can’t just freeload in here. Load’s not free.”

“Rhoda, I’ve already drunk three frigg’n beers and positioned them on the counter over there,” responds Karl in his typical gruff manner and nodding in the appropriate direction.

“N-no you didn’t. They were there.”

“No, I distinctly remember the golden goodness of 3 Krings beers sliding down my throat and into Tummyville. And I paid you.”

“Oh, okay,” Rhoda says matter of factly. Then: “That’ll be 3 dollars.”

“Nah, I ain’t doing that.” Karl waves him off, and then looks over at the picture on the wall to his right. “So what’s with you and that Old Kentucky or Old Kent or whatever — *shark* anyway? It’s like you’re his bitch or something.”

“He looks down on me and tells me things to do and to order,” came the reply. “Listen, there’s something I have to tell you Karl.” He leans in closer. “We’re[ all] dead.”

At this point Karl got the sudden urge to pull out a gun and point it directly at Rhoda’s head. Or his body which is the same as his head. He’s psychically tapping into the violence that regularly occurred at Rhoda’s former bar. It wouldn’t be the last time.

“I don’t understand. I don’t get that,” he said instead.

“Aren’t you going to point that gun at me?” Rhoda was truly perplexed.

“How did you know I wanted to point a gun at you? Is this some kind of strange time loop?”

Karl blinked, and then Rhoda was laying dead on the counter, riddled in gunshot wounds.

“Holy shit what just happened!?”

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But he’s okay.

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Ch-ch-ch

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“Karl? Are you in there?”

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Unch

There are many magical things about the Rubi Woods I’ve yet to write about in this blog, most of which were left out of Furry Karl’s gothic slanted, best selling book (“Blood Curdling Tells of the Forest”). Some of the more interesting ones pivot around the existence of a deciduous tree of different species than all others in the forest, never seen during daylight hours but which can be found on at least certain nights firmly rooted in the ground at coordinates 168, 168. It is known in these legends by a number of names, mostly commonly “The Unchoppable” or “Unchoppable”. Other appellations include “The Missing Piece”, “The 200th”, “The Walking Tree”, or simply “The Forest Tree” or “The Tree”. Variations of the tale have it hovering at the triple coordinate 168, 168, 168 during the day (in visible or invisible guise), and then descending to the ground directly below after sunset, often staying at that particular spot until sunrise the next day but also able to move about the forest at will if needed.

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The Unchoppable at 168, 168, 168 (dramatization).

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The Unchoppable on the forest floor directly below just before sunrise.

In truth, Unch, as the special tree prefers to be called, has been monitoring the progress of Collagesity from its 168, 168, 168 vantage point since the beginning. Seeing many different kinds of avatars now milling about the place, she decided it was time to reveal herself.

Just after midnight on February 4th, 2016, Unch walks out of the forest and down Cannon Street, heading toward the town deity’s gazebo for introductions.

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As Carrcassonnee was sound asleep, Unch had to rustle its leaves quite a number of times to rouse her.

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“Oh. Hello!”

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Rhoda

Baker Bloch hung a picture in The Hole in the Wall in anticipation of the new bartender, only to find out later on he got the wrong Rhoda.

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Here’s the actual Rhoda in question, pictured here on the first day at work. Old Kentucky Shark became his first customer, and promptly issued a stern warning to the new guy. Territories needed to be established right off; sharp boundaries drawn.

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And the remembrance that this had all happened before.

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