Category Archives: Apple’s Orchard

September 18, 2020 · 9:10 am

City

“I’m telling you, Owens. That handle was *broken* last night when I woke up. Now — it’s okay! I’m not lying to you, though. And I’m *not* crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were,” replied the calm, cool chef-inspector. “I’m just trying to get the facts. So — you woke up when the door slammed. This was when the other Sandy — in the dream — left the store — sans bikini bottom.”

“It was her tail and her little purple skirt, but I guess you could say ‘correct’ to that. I can’t recall her wearing anything else. When the cold, naked air blew in through the door when I went downstairs after I awoke I knew that she was the same: cold; naked; out *there*. The door slammed again, then. The handle was *broken*. Someone *broke* it. The dream was real!”

“Calm down, sir. Calm down. You said the door slammed in your dream and you awoke. Then you said the door slammed again after you awoke. But then you said Sandy — the other one, the dream one — *slammed* her tail and skirt down on the table between male bastards — think that was your words again — Renaldo O’Donnell and King Orange, saying they could have them. Strange you remember such specific names for a dream, Sandy Beech.” Then chef-inspector Keat Owens considered that *this* was a dream, and not the first time. It all started with the remembering of Spongebub.  “But this could be the door slamming again,” he completed his analysis. “Except you didn’t awake just then, only with the subsequent slamming.”

Sandy pondered this. Two realities were superimposing themselves on top of each other, inadvertently (perhaps) creating chaos and confusion.  He simply didn’t know; he simply couldn’t understand. In the moment.

(to be continued)

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September 17, 2020 · 6:24 am

cheeky

A deep metallic voice: “Ah yes, this must be the tube that LRPV used to destroy formerly Zen City and set up his Nowtown to rule NWES Island. Until it too was destroyed by a spawned fireball emitted from the Zen City detonation. The rule lasted about 10 seconds, then. Wait.” He checked his script. He saw the word “improvise” in bold italics after “Wait.” “Uhm. I don’t think that’s right, Wayne.” Who’s Wayne? I look off in the distance.

Sandy knew it had to happen. As he had changed others to make them appear as he wished, so too must he now pay the price. Karma, a word not to be thrown lightly around. He lay in his bed, dreaming he was another. Another Sandy. Seems like Spongebub images are everywhere these days, ba ha ha ha ha.

“Dig that chick at the bar, King Orange.”

“Sandy?” replied King Orange, now staring at her instead of clown and fellow burger baron Renaldo O’Donnell. “Sandy Chic?” he completed.

Renaldo O’Donnell glanced over his shoulder again, taking her in better. “I’d like to get her out of that little purple skirt,” he said in a male bastard way. “Like to get some of that tail.”

Sandy overheard with her sharp squirrel(-like) ears. She walked over and complied. “*Here* (*pop*), you can have them (*slam*). The things were getting stuck in the bar anyway behind me; keeping me from standing properly.”

She walked out of the Bigfoot Bar as they called it, also slamming the door.

Sandy Beech fully awakes with this, remembering everything. The stand, the poster. “Wendy,” he says aloud. “I forgot about Wendy!” He rushes downstairs to see if anything he was dreaming about remained.

Nothing but a cold, naked air blowing through an open door with a suddenly broke off handle. The wind slammed it shut again. Who would do this?

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September 12, 2020 · 8:23 pm

looming

“I don’t get it Elberta. How come you turned out so nice and I came out so… *bad*?”

“Aww, it’s just the place we’re from, Filbert (= Toothpick),” she spoke prettily. Everything about her was dainty and proper. No Southern slur to her voice, even though, like her brother Filbert/Toothpick, she was originally from the deep South. She downed chicken after chicken just like the rest of ’em, but never licking and smacking her fingers. Put her overalls on one suspender at a time, but with demure and grace. No shirts for anyone — she couldn’t get away from that. Just pants, and overalls if you’re lucky. You get one pair and then when you wear those out that’s it, unless someone dies in the family and you inherit theirs. There’s been rumors of murders just because of this. And then you have to make sure another sibling or cousin or something hasn’t been pushed out of a womb and grown up fast enough in front of you to earn theirs right on the spot, before the grave dirt’s hardened and the mourning flowers wilted. Wild flowers we’re talking about here, because no one from their parts can afford the shop ones. Like city lady Norm the Cashier’s exotic blend of Amazonia specimens over in the Black Ice district. No south of the border for them. They’ll never move beyond the front part of the palindrome involving Panama.

So here they sit in front of a dividing canal, one man and one plan. A canal going nowhere — Elberta had detected there was no flow to the current early on, but still came to fish here. If only for the beer and the company of her brother. Here, down in this sunken channel of rock and cement, she could escape the stares of the others. The ogles of the ogres she likes to think of it. “We are a pair,” she said, leaning over toward him and elegantly handing him the empty, with the understanding that he’d stand up, open the box cooler, and give her a full one in return. He was obedient, but yet he was also a slave again. A slave to tradition. Brothers usually marry their sisters in the deep South culture, with twins no exception. Usually. He counted the days and weeks in his mind. 17. Just enough to get settled into the new temple with the new avatar God and make arrangements. He was hoping their parents would actually go out and buy him a new pair of overalls for the wedding but we’ll see. Usually doesn’t happen that way; usually someone has to die as stated. Uncle Luther has the flu, Filbert can’t help but think here. He imagines another funeral before the wedding with freshly donned dungarees.

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September 4, 2020 · 7:30 am

Post

He was going to be a different kind of artist. He was going to make holes, but he was going to cover up holes. Of sorts. Time to meet up with his other art friend in the sim. He should have some works ready by, say, next Friday? He’s got a long weekend to catch up. And he is catching up (*splat*!).

He’s a maker of magical jeans, dresses, tops, all the rage in Our Second Lyfe in yesterday’s tomorrow which is today. Almost. It’s the 11th dream day still. He works fast so he uses Paint 3D. He’s made a pact with a fire demon burning brightly and steadily in the center of it all.

His name is almost Rothko but not quite. If you googled it, the search engine might think you were looking instead for Mark. That close: Close City close.

He doesn’t have a lot of fans yet except for Sandy, who bought a designer dress off of him day before… well, Saturday. Sandy Beech, who we’ve already met over at NWES City, a world hemisphere away from this Corsica continent and its peakology and all. There are peaks on the Jeogeot continent but not the notable sharp, rocky kind like here. Barry likes peaks; that’s why he’s in Yellowmoon or thereabouts; that’s why he *might* also be, before or after or somewhere in-between, on that double peaked mountain near NWES City — on its overarching or inclusive or *umbrella* island. Barry sortof named Rothko. Thothko? Not quite.

It was in the Cub Run thrift shop on that city on that island where Sandy found the catchup stained dress. Hmm, he thought, unhooking its hanger from the rack to take a closer look. He’d never seen art clothing in a consignment store before. With its cute bow in the middle (he continues to think at the time) it looks exactly like — Oh *God*. He pays 300 lindens for the red and blue dress and quickly leaves.

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August 31, 2020 · 8:25 am

another cave


“It’s a crossover post from this here blog over to Facebook-land, Hucka Doobie.”

But Cassandra Blueberry, wanna-be Blue Berry Girl of the great state of NWES City, was there instead. Similar in ways but I wasn’t suppose to talk about that any more.

“I thought your name was Constance” I replied to her greeting.

“Find me,” she said in her pleasant voice, with no hint of a troubled past. “I’m still relevant.”

I doubted it. I had chosen another. Wendy. Like “The Shining’s” Wendy except different. More red I suppose but perhaps not more bloodied. Ketchup again. I left Cassandra to hold the irrelevant mustard.

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August 30, 2020 · 9:32 am

N-W-E-S

I knew Rock Ramby lived or at least *sat* in the cabin at the center of this circle of railroad in a forest grove of huge trees of his design. Or so he claimed. I knew that Gill Alex lived here as well, his Vain and Artery Boy that Santa-like Sven, who runs a packing industry over in nearby Misty Mountains, delivers a fresh supply of every now and then, always a happy moment for Rock. He likes his boy mate to be rock hard and real seeming, veins and arteries popping out in the right locations and correct hemispheres.

Then I knew that Blue Berry Girl, also from the Misty Mountains and maybe even the same as Sven in some mysterious way, came to Rock’s place, and, Wonka-like, shed her spherical blueberry encasement while crossing the RR track to enter the cabin. The dog at the house seemed to know her after the blue sphere disappeared, but earlier we understood this was Rock’s canine. So who lives here, Rock or Blue Berry Girl? And why did Rock’s fair haired mate and Blue Berry Girl later conjoin at NWES City at that ill-fated meeting hosted by Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, ending with his death at the hands of, um, I believe her name was — yes — Lu Ellen Hutchinson? Or Hutchison. Why did Baumbeer take the green seat of the 4 after yellow topped Vain and Artery Boy, later Gill Alex, took the yellow seat, Blue Berry Girl, sans exterior sphere by this time, took the blue seat opposite him, and red hatted Lu Ellen sat down in the red one opposite Baumbeer’s, gunns ready to be pulled at the right or correct moment? Ka-POW!! POW POW!! *POP* POW!! Meeting adjourned.

My current theory about all this is that Gill Alex, Vain and Artery Boy if you will, is the same as Blue Berry Girl — they are part of one entity. Likewise for fellow opposites Lu Ellen and Dr. Baumbeer sitting around this same, four-square circle. And then the two pairs also correspond in a higher manner. This is one entity masquerading — if you will — as 4 separate entities. Each of the 4 represent an aspect of the 1. A great 4n1 or 4orrin1 or Foreign One. If you will.

But who is in the center, then? The actual person behind the people? Or meeples? Is it TILE? Is it the River or Riiii-ver? 12 square tiles linked from source to mouth, a complete stream to start the game like beginning Crosby progresses to ending Young through middlings Stills and Nash? TILE update with thieving or crooked red fishermen (and/or farmers) included?

Dr. Baumbeer might have been murdered because he was the only one who retained the knowledge of the 4n1 or 4orrin1 or Foreign One. He might have been the same as green toned Bullfrog, who a little earlier, had killed Lu Ellen’s father. If so, this seems like a revenge killing pure and simple but is actually more. This was the elimination or eradication or hiding of a certain type of truth, a central core. It seems meaningful that the red one did the shooting with the gunns: Lu Ellen Hutchison played by mediocre actor Alice Frame, who also stars in the current production as similarly red topped Wendy. Character-actor Sandy Beech is recruiting her hard for The Twins’ production, some kind of remake of “The Shining” or something, perhaps involving decisions made at crossroads. But the warm and fuzzy atmosphere of “Burger Wars” still represents a lure for Alice despite all the linden dollars being thrown around.

(to be continued)

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August 28, 2020 · 9:02 am

Zero

And to think this was almost her home. She stands up after getting rid of slimly taller blue and slightly shorter red at once. This was not a vein and artery situation topped by topping gold and/or yellow. Plant is in the temple. *The* Plant. He touches Carrcassonnee and both (olive) green (entities) come to life. Fantastic! But what of her? Blue Berry Girl, or Blue Berry Wannabe Girl? Baker Bloch said he would stop by later after he made a decision. But the Baker Bloch that showed up was not himself but another. Another core. You could tell by the somewhat iridescent hat, I’ve heard. And so it is.

He emerged from the house instead. “Hi doll.” Oh boy.

—–

“Of course it was Axis in the house,” Baker Bloch said to fellow core avatar Hucka Doobie later. “He’s married to Wheeler after all — that still applies.” Hucka Doobie let him speak further. “His name is Blackey after all. Black like a swastika.” Careful, Hucka Doobie thinks but doesn’t say aloud. He was entering Constance Blueberry territory again with his consideration of dark against light. She looks into Baker Bloch’s eyes. Baker realizes he’s stumbling and bumbling once more. After all, Hucka herself was a strong black woman and not a Bee any longer. Or a man. She’d tied a bow on all that existence and stored it away for later study. Perhaps at Xmas.

(to be continued)

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August 27, 2020 · 8:03 am

bow

She hesitated in front of the golden phone. She just couldn’t go through with it. She picks up the receiver, dials the number, all of ’em, including the last one, the 1 that will put her in 0. Rings. Sandy answers.

“You’ve changed your mind,” he guessed correctly.

“Yeah, ahem. It’s a lot of money.”

“But…?”

“But… my friends need me over at the other set.” She glances their way again. King Winnifried Orange smiles back. Clown Renaldo O’Donnell, back turned to Wendy at the moment, smiles at him. There was a warm feeling all around. She’d never had better working mates. All were in costume, all were consummate professionals. She couldn’t leave “Burger Wars.” This was not even to mention (director) Chip Wassleboro! They were having an affair behind his 2 wive’s backs.

“Wendy,” stated character-actor Sandy Beech, straightforward if nervous. Uncharacteristic. The Twins were staring at him with murder in their eyes. “You *signed* — a *contract*; *they*” — and he turns again to dare to lock eyes with them for a second — “are not *amused* by this. I’m looking straight at them, Wendy. You don’t want to *cross* them. Do you know what I mean, do you understand what I’m saying? Put – on – the dress. The other one.”

“I can’t do it, Sandy,” Wendy reiterates, knowing this must remain a Wendy City and not progress beyond. Her left white stocking was drooping annoyingly down her thigh. $19.19 she paid for them. And they hadn’t even lasted beyond the month. What was the name of that store? Oh right. Cub Run. The place she accidentally met Sandy again that day the 1st hurricane was forecast. Then taking the cursed money and donning the bloodied dress at the elevation of the second beyond tropical storm. Because this was not just a Wendy City but also a Second City. Second Lyfe City. *The* City. She knew it all ended here, the 1 into the 0. She might as well be Wend-… Wend-… oh, she couldn’t do it; what was she thinking. Of course she’ll take the money. King Orange looked over again  — another smile. She smiled back but weaker this time, breaking down. The Twins were just too strong a force to reckon with.

—–

“Thank *Gods*,” Sandy exclaimed while slamming down the receiver and getting the results he wanted.

(to be continued?)

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August 24, 2020 · 9:45 am

upstairs

“50 thousand lindens. *50* *1000*…”

“I heard you,” Wendy spat back. “W-why would I want to give up my chance for stardom in this Popeye film and put all my marbles *here*? I’ve *been* here. I worked with Bob Waffleburg before — *we* did.”

“Just put on the dress and we’ll see,” encouraged Sandy Wannabe, still not fully character-actor Sandy Beech but getting there.

Wendy was thinking she *has* on a dress — but she complies. It was a lot of money.

—–

*There*.

“Hmm. Needs more blood,” he opines, fully transformed now with the sight. Inwardly he was thinking: this looked good! They were about ready to get down to some serious business.

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August 24, 2020 · 8:14 am

Wendy City

It is happening again.

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