Category Archives: Nautilus

Lemon Cove

“I’ve been betrayed? By a *triangle*??”

“I can explain.”

—–

He often thought of that day he found Elvira with a shape. Three corners and the truth, he knew after that. So far did he run to square and the extra corner that he didn’t have time to stop. Until today. Decision. The portal would be open again to New Mexico: 7:15 this morning. He could take his bike and just ride ride ride, never looking back. Stupid second world, he thought and almost spat on the ground, at least imagined it. The powers that be had a plan. He would blend in with a pack of choppers heading south from Los Lunas, become part of the pack itself. “Do whatever you have to to accomplish this important important mission,” spoke his most immediate boss. And so he found Nikki at Silver City when the rowdies that had been hounding him since almost the beginning finally and completely dropped away (siren calls just here there and there), rode alongside her until the Shakespearean end. He didn’t plan to fall in love on the other side but love happens, as they say. Yeah, he also thought of the triangle as he made his plans for the future with her, used that negative energy to propel himself away away away from Burro Alley and the possibility of return.

He sat here like a lifeguard on that fated day, actually imagining blonde Nikki from the future before (and below) him. Across the namesake cove, not quite in the corner but getting there: the 4th, the future — without Elvira, Our Second Lyfe, his triangle of bratty kids, pheh. “Elvira can take care of them,” he said aloud, still staring down at the form that had taken shape. “They all take after her anyway; best that like stays with like.” He refused to see his own brattiness, the bully that he’d become in his negative thinking about this that and that. So if Nikki likewise betrayed him… well, it won’t end pretty.

“How pretty,” he said, oblivious to this possibility.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0212, Nautilus, New Mexico, NORTH, Slaashsides

00370211

When he shot out of the 1st to 2nd life portal known as Burro Alley, Santa Fe, New Mexico at 9:34 Mountain Time on Sunday, March 5th, 2023, he had a good idea this would be his last trip to reality reality. He’d prepared for this moment, said goodbye, in effect, to the virtual wife and kids — if it came to that. Because he didn’t intend to go back to playing second fiddle in a second life devoid of 3 of the 5 major senses, subtract psychic, which was in fact stronger over there. He cherished feeling the bumps in the brick pavement of the alley, loved the smell of fresh bread coming from the Burro Alley Cafe beside the stick laden burro statue at the entrance, reveled in the taste of their fish tacos for breakfast, dinner and sometimes lunch, if fish burritos, which he didn’t like as much, weren’t substituted on the menu.

—–

“The plot deepens.”

“Or thickens,” Hucka D. responds, taking another gander at the photo Barry’d produced from a facebook page on the ghost town. Can-can girls in Shakespeare, the past come to life. Both knew this was an important clue. They’d just produced the word “cancan” in a collage created by folding up the back of a 1923 German dance recital poster found in Hal’s saloon near the center of the resurrected village. Or altered village is perhaps a better way to put it, since both dead and alive versions are just as real as the other. Featured Isadora (or Isadore) Duncan and her daughter Irma, joined at the hip now through the collage fresh as a wet drink produced for a condemned bully whose throat was bone dry from defending himself and saying other locals had perpetrated much more heinous crimes. Didn’t work: hanged in the Grant Hotel Dining Room alongside a cattle rustler. Could have been Barry and Hucka’s fate as well except it wasn’t.

“And the Hills buried on a hill (above the town formerly known as Grant in a county formerly part of Grant). Don’t forget that — fits in with Grant Hill, who drinks sprite, both lemon and lime together to produce something not quite as good as either separately.”

“Another one to wet the whistle.”

“Yess.”

—–

The dog burrows deeper.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0211, Google Street View, Nautilus, New Mexico, NORTH, Slaashsides

00370209

He pulled up to the station even though he didn’t need gas, just to look like the rest of the crowd. Despite being unmotorized, he’d outraced half of the choppers here he blended into around Los Lunas. Rowdy crowd — didn’t take to his showoffiness. Tried to shoot his tires out a couple of times but he just weaved and bobbed his way to safety. At one point he had to ride through the desert for a couple of miles to avoid bullets. Finally around Silver City enough of the real troublemakers had dropped out so that he could feel at ease with the rest — attached to one bar or brothel or another along the way — siren calls. He’d actually made a friend, he felt. More on that later: an escape hatch from a lifetime of crime and corruption otherwise. Penny might be her name. Wanda?

—–

*Meanwhile*, on Nautilus…

Shelley Struthers got her wish. We, the Baker family as a whole, have returned to the Nautilus continent, which she’s decided should remain an Our Second Lyfe focus. Now the big Nautilus map in my skybox becomes very relevant again. I bought waterfront property quite cheaply, so I can, in all likelihood, recoup my money and then some from the purchase. Not far from the old Collagesity location in Fordham. More details soon!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0209, Lower Austra, Nautilus, New Mexico, Wild West

00370203

“I’ve *been* here for 2 weeks,” complained Johnny Cage, tiring of the assignment in Slaashsides. He was ready to get back home to his wife Elvira and kids Lester, Luke and Leonard Jay (Leno). But the problem was: Barry DeBoy was a quick healer, a *real* quick healer — like he stood outside of time or something (as his supervisor exasperatedly explained over the phone to him) — and that he may be needed for another one of those “accidents” again.

“We need you to stay close to that New Mexico portal,” he said. “That’s the only way we know how still to reach him. Work on your biking, work on your *bike*,” he suggested. “Slaashsides is fairly big — about a 1/2 sim as I recall. Just ride around and around, check your tires, check your gears, handle, seat — *everything*. Just don’t go groundside yet. And that’s an order, John, from the guys and gals upstairs that pay *both* our salaries and bonuses. You got a big bump recently. Don’t screw all this up. You need to start thinking about your pension — the future. Think of little Leno.”

The stinky green pocketbook displayed on the side of the news stand was starting to get overwhelming. “Listen, I have to go,” spoke Johnny Cage. “I’ll do what you said. I’ll keep them happy. But either get me back to New Mexico or get me back home pretty quickly. I can’t stand these halfway places, neither here nor there.” And with this he hung up the receiver, rather slammed it back in the carriage really, and walked up the sidewalk and turned left again. Back to Burro Alley, pheh.

10 days, he determined while treading carefully on its slicker surface — not daring to hurt himself as he would hurt others. That’s all I’m going to put up with it.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0203, Nautilus, New Mexico, NORTH, Slaashsides

harnessing the energy

They renewed their vows before really, actually heading out into new life, her in black and pink this time to better match his blue and black. So speaks the magical Abra-cadabra laundromat, the place of the clothes. Cold, damp basement no more for Lemont Sanford, now truly in control and not subordinates Arthur Kill and his more sophisticated cousin Kill van Kull. At least for a while, for this morning, for the next hour.

Their new, good friend and 3rd wheel Edward Daigle performed the ceremony, since he was qualified that way, as he also explained in one of their basement escapades out and down on Cable Isle, the place Arthur Kill was buried, at least for a while, a morning I believe. About an hour. Before Wheeler went down in the grave after him and swished or mopped away all the heat and fire and brimstone with her magic swishy mop and told him to rise up and then go down. For a particular reason of course. “Basement,” she indicated, pointing toward the slanted cellar doors nearby after he unsuccessfully attempted to just dust himself off and exit through the front gate of the dinky cemetery with its one or two plots — wouldn’t work, Wheeler knew. “Await me and my orders. We have an important choice coming up. Which (she eyed him keenly) *cousin* will you be?” She knew it could even be both at once. The basement has that power.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0114, Nautilus, NORTH

00370107

Janice spots a 15 speed bicycle hanging on an apartment wall upon exiting the Slaashsides subway, first of a succession of bad signs…

The stinking green pocketbook is still there, check.

So is Burro Alley.

—–

Johnny’d come back from a serious bike trek. He needed to replenish.

“New Mexico, pheh,” he mutters while gobbling.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0107, Nautilus, New Mexico, NORTH, Slaashsides

00360602

I had to go find out if this was really Mabel we’re dealing with here, a girl of purest green. In a way I suppose it had to be. Kitty kats — not the first time we’ve shared that link in this here photo-novel, 36 in a number.

*There* she is. Composing one of her backwards chord songs it appears from the sound of it, green plant in front of her dancing along with the queer results. She was green it was green. They were one.

—–

After convincing her I was Baker Bloch in another form, she fessed up at least to the knowledge of Tintown, a former tiny community on the edge of Mortons Gap. But whether Kentucky or Our Second Lyfe remained to be determined.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0602, Corsica, Kentucky, Nautilus, NORTH, Northwest

00360503: the birth of Santman

“Now this is what’s so fascinating to me,” spoke Baker Bloch, taking over his father’s talk show business. Just until he mends from that broken hip. Should be off the crutches in another day or 3. “So let’s review: you moved from behind the camera to in front because Ricky Cargo got shot in the head with a real bunch of lead — no death here!” he shouts toward the audience, which got a roar. “And so you played in ‘I Love Lucifer’, for 6 years as the male lead — didn’t say lead!” More laughs. “Then you quit that show after they moved the location from the city to the country (Sandman nods here with a soft “um hum”), then you decided to get that age operation to better exploit your chances in the then lucrative child acting business.”

“More money, uh huh. After you subtract all the cost of living stuff, the houses, the pools and cars and, let’s see, women I suppose. Women of the night.” He laughs a bit here and the audience too. They’re still with him. They’ve bought into this whole story. Baker Bloch almost has as much talent in the build up as his father. But still he hopes he gets well soon and returns.

“Let’s see, the next job is then little Richie Pettry in the ‘Dick van Duck Comedy Special’. Aired on CBS for 3 years.”

“Four. Counting the Christmas season. Ran for 6 episodes actually.”

“And I believe that’s the first Christmas season in television history.”

“Television *comedy* history. There was always Bing Cosby.”

“Right, forgot,” exclaims Baker Bloch. “But that started the whole Santa thing. Tell me about that — I know we’re getting off-topic again but the story is fascinating. We’ll return to the child acting soon.”

“Well, that was part of it. At Christmas a child needs, what? A Santa. To sit on his lap, tell him what he or she wants for Christmas.” He gestures placing an imaginary child on his knee during this.

“We all know that *now*. But back then — brand new! You invented the holidays, Sandman. Have you ever thought about that?”

“Well… I can’t take credit for St. Patrick.” Laughs from the audience. He stares out at them lovingly, knows they’ve footed the bills for his many yachts and mansions down through the years.

“Okay,” says Bloch. “Let me cut to the chase — Tommy’s telling me we need to go to a commercial break.”

“I sat on his lap,” says Sandman, getting the core of it. “I… told him… I wanted a duck for Christmas.” Chuckles from the audience, most of them not even paid studio laughers by this point. “I wanted to *be* a Duck (dramatic pause). So he ate me.” Stares even wider eyed at the audience, who have lost it. Everyone knows the story. It made broadcast history.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0503, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Squared Root City-

Redrüm again

Let’s see, I’ve done a blue dress and a red dress. How about a purple one this time.

A purple cube manifests in the room as sewing Wheeler Wilson thought this. The door opened. Showtime.

—–

“This cat’s ears are soo soft (!).”

“Ma’am — or sir — I hate to rush you but the show’s about to start. Do you want to check in your overcoat or not?” She indicated the indicated sign with the hand and all, warning that the establishment would not be responsible for hats and coats unless checked in at the front.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” She could feel his eyes bore into her back and side. Her *real* son. At long long last. She was actually frozen with indecision. And because she was a chaos object, everything else in the place froze along with her — oops, there goes Doris, not asking questions any longer, not pattering her fingers impatiently on the counter. 7:21PM. Son Cory’s shoulders also move for the last time in the recognition. Mother.

Spade tattooed bartender Sarah escaped with her gum *just* in the nick of time, but heart tattooed assistant Rosalyn didn’t make it. A bit too red herself, I suppose.

—–

Alright Jackie. Explain to me *one* more time about how you escaped the crematorium? And where’s Don?”

“Burt. His name was Burt.”

“*Was*? So… he’s dead. He did his duty.”

“Yes. I guess.” She started crying. “I don’t know.”

“And the rooooocckks??” They were the most important thing for Officer Davis Jefferson, the most complete bastard of a guy on the town’s force, ever in pursuit of the notorious Black Lake Gang and his one-to-one ultimate archrival Brutus, who also goes by Ted. Curious: So close to Burt; just rearrange the beginning letters a tad, a pinch, after dropping off the US. And where were we? Back on Nautilus? It might be so, although the map says Maebaelia. We’ll coordinate and synchronize asap.

Better stop questioning the dangerous bitch and handcuff her, Jefferson thinks here. Haul her unfried ass back to hq.

It wasn’t Brutus but it was a pretty satisfying arrest nonetheless. Might get him a promotion to sgt., even, which would be bad for everybody, the law, law abiding citizens, and crinimals all.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0412, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus, NORTH, Slaashsides

the present

—–

“I think this case is wrapped up, Pretty. *Petty*.” He turns red again. “Pretty much wrapped up,” he tried to cover himself.

“Thanks Officer Glammerpuss.”

The place will have to be quarantined for a week because of the moondust but the business should be able to reopen then.”

“Cathy will be pleased.”

“Yes.”

“Did you get all the rocks?”

“We think so. There’s one that looks like Neil Armstrong, then one like Buzz, then the other one — I assume it’s the 3rd.”

“Collins,” answered Petty to this, due to go on his other job in 2 hours and don a chef’s hat while ditching the inspector’s coat, no rest for this busybody. He reached into it to withdraw a match, ready to relight his current stogie, 8th of the night. At one point there was even 2 in his mouth at once. so excited he was about the news. Queen! Coming to Hardrock. So says Glammerpuss, the big, well, he just loves Queen. They both do! Ah heck, might as well try. Officer seems to be hinting around.

“Listen, Glammerpuss… Chuck.”

“Tim. You call me Tim.”

“Listen, Chuck. I was wondering…”

“Queen?” It just came out of his mouth automatically. Petty turned to stare into his eyes. Chief Wigwam walked up, interrupting the moment as he was suppose to. He gazed at the ribbon on the wrapped up door, symbolic of the case itself. He thought about procedure, getting ducks lined up in a row.

“Better start the paperwork on this Glammerpuss while the memories are fresh. Petty — aren’t you due to present me with a fresh dove omelet in, say (he checks his watch), 2 hours?”

“2 1/2,” states the chef-inspector to this. “Gotta warm up the oven first. Say, Wigwam, can you give us a moment. There’s just one wrinkle on the case we have to iron out.”

“It’s Collins,” spoke Wigwam. “The one they always forget the name of.”

A small smile breaks on Petty’s face. “No, not that, Chief. Something else. Just… give us a moment.”

“Oh alright. See you when the sun comes up. Glammerpuss — paperwork.” He walks away.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0407, Lower Austra, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus