Part 02…
It was a tight squeeze but she made it, newly placed crown just fitting under ceiling. Top of the kitty tower, Queen of the Basement. She surveys her queendom and deems it needs cleaning up. Pretty badly. She’s lost control of her 15 year old girl and 4 year old boy, her subjects. Better return to the Room and draw out a plan.
But she looked and looked but couldn’t find her way back. Just walls. She forgot that she was already in the Room. And always had been.
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“I remember doing handsprings next to box springs and thinking: this ain’t right. I’m *caged*.”
“Andie?”
“Shelley now. But Andie should know. *Shouldn’t* know I meant there. Why we tagged her. Alteration later.”
“In the dark?”
“Let’s say, leave it in Colorado. Aand, we took care of the cage.”
—–
Karl wakes up in bed after a mysteriously induced sleep when he entered. Still dreaming of course. Because lining the walls of the damp dark cellar he sees this.
He fell into the 1st picture that caught his eye called “Accidental Exposure 02”. I believe several states are involved now; difficult to choose where he went. Working on it…
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“A search for *all* FENST geographic features in the GNIS national database of such only brings up 7 hits, including a Finstad Lake (lake) in MN with variant names of FENSTad Lake and FENSTed Lake, which is why it showed up on my list since I allow those. Notice this is found on a Picket Lake topographic map there, which piqued my interest because another name in this list starts with Fence: Fencemaker Canyon (valley) NV, also on a Fencemaker topo map and with a variant name of FENSTonmaker Canyon. Again, why it showed up in the list. Picket fence, then, see.”
“Picket fence, okay. Go on…”
“All this stemming from (the) FENSTar (sim) of the Big E/Big Schwa sitting before us.”
“I think I gathered that (already).”
“Cool. Soo, this led me to thinking about the old house I bought recently surrounded by this type of fence. Why I bought it actually.”
“*Before* the finding of Fence and Picket in that list,” I tried to clarify across from him, staring at the Schwa side as opposed to his E side. We were just that complementary.
“Correct. So that… leads to this.”
—–
Karl enters the old house to discover nothing inside except cobwebs and musky smells. But then circling around it he finds this. Cellar door. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0051, 0108, Jeogeot, Kidd Tower, Minnesota, Nautilus, Nevada, Perch-Mistletoe, Upper Austra, Xilted
Picket fences usually go along with good things like moms and apple pie and blue skies but not in this case. GTA San Andreas’ Carl Karl approaches cautiously from below.
“When did that creepy old house get up there on the ridge, Newt?” now black haired Wheeler said over to her sometimes boyfriend, oft times husband on the swing with her. They were just that close, counterparts if not technically soulmates. Since the latter technically doesn’t exist if you’re thinking of things like 1/2 + 1/2 = 1. That’s why they don’t need to get married like Newt desired… again. But Wheeler still wanted to show him the front and the back of it all, just to get that out of the way and allow them to continue on with their virtual lives. Still together. Apart and together as one.
“I don’t know,” answered Newt, looking around the figure of Wheeler beside him to observe something else now. “But someone’s on the porch, about to go inside by the looks of it. Black man.”
“Black man,” echoes Wheeler. It’s as if it just appeared out of nowhere. Like Wheeler’s new hair. TBC
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Miss Ouri looks to her right now with her matching orange eyes. “Come out, child,” she urges manifested Shelley. “Come out from under the lamp and become big before us so we can properly see you.”
“No.”
Good girl.
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Voodoo doll holding Miss Ouri observes Pietmond Boy patiently waiting outside SC’s Secret Door for a father who seemingly never shows. Wait for it… Wait for it…
There.
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*Done* with the folding and done for the day, she thinks, sweat beading on her forehead from all the humidity around here because of the, well, *water* — over her 2 feet and up to 3-4 feet, pheh. *Now* what? she wonders. Back to *his* place?
“TOILET,” he calls from over the intercom, making her realize she had one more chore to accomplish before she could get paid. Orders of the big boss.
“Wolvie, closing up for the day!” Emily said in synchronicity with the video from somewhere beyond the cracked door, trying not to look in. She’s learned to deal with it.
“Just visiting the bathroom again and done!” he called back.
—–
“Cleaning, of course,” said Wheeler about same bathroom. “Not the other stuff. But still quite nasty, one could say. I believe you could put the big boss firmly in the sadist category. It all just got… out of control.”
“Nah, you’re okay, you’re good,” opined James Smoker, sitting across the bum camp fire from her, still holding and puffing on two cigarettes at once — while he could. “No need to crucify yourself over the matter,” he says, watching her “burn” through the fire. Like a witch. Or maybe a witcher, hmm. “This so-called Big Boss (*cough*): sounds like he’s just a butthead, a butt *period*,” he continued in his gravelly voice growing deeper and more gravelly by the year, the week. He hadn’t told her about the terminal thing. And he hadn’t revealed his true name. Not yet. So she just kept imagining him as James Smoker.
“Nice of you to say so,” says Wheeler. “But I’m afraid the whole town knows, the whole town looks down on me.” Still burning away inside a fire of her own devising.
“Those *Uptowners* might,” said James Smoker to this. “But us Downtowners… we stick together through thick and thin. Like bounded sticks.” He puts his two cigarettes together with his two hands to emphasize his point. Burny sticks, she understands — local nomenclature. If she burns, he burns; nice gesture from him.
So James S. considered her a Downtowner, she thought. Interesting. Even though she worked Uptown, lived Uptown. Maybe Willa Brown Halter is on the wrong side of the issue.
“What about *Mid*town?” she decided to ask, curious about the so-called neutral zone between the divisions, upper and lower. Where she was floored by Charlene that day of the town meeting and so had to pick herself up off the slanted pavement in order to attend.
“Center Core?” he responded, thinking of his primary reason for coming here to this Burg in the first place. To find a place where he could crawl into and die.
He decides to just blurt it out, the reason, the end point. Only crackles from the fire for a while after that.
(to be continued)
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Afterwards, Wheeler explained what Newt saw and experienced through a double recently found online. Rockstahr. “See?” she said, pointing it out. “The red blue green yellow tubes of the mad scientist go through the hair and potentially to the back.
“Just like you,” he said, still not over the excitement. Tingly!
“Yeah, and the orange and violet tubes…”
“Up front, right.
“Soo… you’re the creation of a mad scientist. Just like Rockstahr.”
“Mad, yes (giggle). Scientist — not exactly.”
Artist instead, he understood.
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“Check out that ball at the centerpoint, Wheeler.”
“Where?”
“Well, it just moved underneath us now. Under this plywood platform. It’ll reappear soon on the other side.”
“There!”
“Yes, a rolling plywood ball,” Wheeler says while observing the thing, trying not to sound impressed. Because she knew Newt was onto something.
“Center again, Wheeler,” he says as they both watch it roll through that point. “Just like the title of the last post. This is a manifestation of my wish, my desire. Must be.”
Wheeler kept silent even though she knew he was right. Shouldn’t you be getting back to your *laptop,* she wanted to say but of course bit her tongue. This was her one time hubby. Once is enough, but kisses will still come. And maybe… maybe… if they can solve the two hole problem. Dare she think of it? Absorption. Incarnation. Together. He’d have to give up the 3rd person perspective, rely only on mouselook to move around. She’d have to make concessions too, like getting rid of Backwards Falls Edward. But theoretically it could be done.
It rolled right over the sim’s center again as both kept watching and thinking. This wasn’t possible. Was it?
“Let’s go back to the swing, Newt. I want to show you something.”
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They moved the swing outside to view the surrounding countryside and stars. At least that was Wheeler’s plan. Newt just wanted better reception for his wifi. He wanted to check how the NBA playoffs were going and some other stuff. Back to his laptop…
“I know what you look at when I’m not around, one time hubby of mine.”
“You do?” Lakers lose to Timberwolves by 5. But Luka was sick. Someone in Minnesota gave him food poisoning on purpose? he couldn’t help ruminate. So he was involved in that and not really listening to Wheeler. Typical.
“Yeah. I know your plan. You want to get to 100 by the time you’re 80. Smart.”
He pulls up a clip, making sure the sound is turned down. Luka missing a three and then missing a pass to the corner he’d make 99 out of 100 times. Yeah: sick obviously. Oh well, there’s always next year. “Yeah,” he says, still 1/2 listening at best. “Or 80 by 100, whichever,” he jokes weakly.
“It’s because of me.”
Clip over, Newt looks at Wheeler. Those eyes change daily, maybe hourly. Changeling. “Of course it’s because of you,” he said, closing the laptop now. The Lakers season might be over just as much as his dreams of a second marriage might be over. “Even if we can’t get married… again,” he tacks on.
“It’s all for the best. I mean, let’s say there’re two holes, two portals… into this world they call Our Second Lyfe. Actually I guess that’s only us that calls it that.” She laughs slightly. He smiles.
“I know what you’re getting at.” He opens back up the laptop. “A kiss will do for now.”
He logs in as himself and continues onward.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0410, Nautilus, Perch-Mistletoe, Upper Austra
Sunklands 