Category Archives: Omega^^

March 4, 2024 · 6:39 am

Old Hen

Newt looked down after he’d finished, deep in thought. “Amazing,” he finally spoke. “What in blue blazes did I just eat?”

Wendy beamed a smile at him, just like on the logo. “It’s called a *hot dog*.”

“A *what* dog?”

“A hot dog. Made from the freshest ingredients. No pig anuses if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking that at all (!).”

“Nor snouts, nor hooves. Only mechanically separated meat byproducts — I’ve been told to call it muscle trimming.”

“It’s humans,” Newt deadpanned. “Isn’t it?”

“*No*. Ridiculous man.”

“Okay,” he said, standing up and wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I’m going to have to do my research before we make a deal.”

—–

They were back at the Pink Hippo, name slightly changed to hide the innocent involved. “I did my research,” Newt started after he made his introduction. “I had to brainwash you into thinking our meeting never happened. Bottom line: *don’t* sell those things to the general public any more. I was right about the humans (!).”

Several people dancing nearby overheard the conversation. Soon it was all about town. Kangerootown would never have a Wendy’s in its midst, the name of the red topped establishment being sullied beyond repair. March turned out to be a really bad month of the year for the likewise red topped gal before him.

“Dance?” he said, trying to ease the pain. No smile now. Turn that upside down into a full out cry, which the dancers also recorded. Where’s the beef, Wendy? Where’s the beef?

Not in this reality as it turned out. *This* Wendy’s franchise was basically over before it started. Soon, quite soon, she would turn into a vegetarian and change the course of her life. But first we have to get her to Castle Town in the South.

(to be continued)

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March 2, 2024 · 6:48 pm

Luxembourg?

She was required to wear the hair at all times but she could change the outfit during off hours. Like now. Pink Hippo, lower reaches of Kangerootown over on the Omega continent, her new home of sorts. Where she decided to start the Wendy’s Hot Dog chain, at least until beau Jim Randolph Bastard Pirate reported back to her about the Red Dead planet. Hadn’t heard from him in weeks — probably dead in space, she determined, or crash landed on the planet at best with that rickety looking Humpty Dumpty ship of his. How right she was about the crash, but how wrong she was about the death. About to get eaten by alligators or shot by bandits (reader’s choice), he spotted a nearby fox and used a mod he’d installed just before entering the atmosphere to transfer his soul directly into it, switching over from his current body in immediate peril. Only till he could find another human one to inhabit. He watched from the new body as the teeth of the alligator sank in (or, in the other alternative death scenario, the bullets of the bandit sank in). He quickly scurried through the bush and away from the ghastly scene. Thank Gods for that mod. Actually, one of the God ones he installed upon recommendation of Atlantis High Priestess, who had lived in St. Dennis for a while, enough to know the advantages of God mode and attached mods in the “game.” Like bits for bytes.

Back to the Pink Hippo: Wendy had to decide by tomorrow whether to branch out her fledgling eating establishment to here in Kangarootown, about 5 sims west of the original store in Old Hen. She’d picked a central place in what you could call the burg’s downtown area. Now all she had to do was persuade the owner to give her the site. You can see it here — the red topped one. Just like Wendy. She liked that about the spot. Fate, she pondered.

Newt walked in and sat down beside her, a 67 year old recently retired German hailing from Brussels. Or so he said. “Buy you a drink, Wendy?” How does he know my name? she wondered.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0207, Kangerootown, Omega^^, RDR2, The Cross^

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February 29, 2024 · 6:23 am

00420204 (evening run)

She’s trying so hard to fight the abstracting, thinks husband Sandman from the porch of their cozy Glynwood Stilthouse in the heart of the Omega continent. She’s run around all 9 lakes and all their 7 unique linden plants 3 times now in the correct order, just as the doctor ordered. It doesn’t mean anything, he spoke secretly to the husband. Just something to keep her mind occupied and off her troubles. Placebo, he admitted, although the exercise and fresh air will indeed do her good.

“So the enneagram is worthless in and of itself,” Sandman tried to clarify when this was illuminated to him. “The shocks don’t count, or are nonexistent.”

“Correct,” said the doctor back, who may be Mouse but perhaps not. But it’s looking more like that’s so.

(to be continued)

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February 25, 2024 · 6:28 am

there’s levels to it

Brngg brngg! Brngg Brngg!

Damn, she thought. And I was just starting to enjoy myself.

“Hallo?”

—–

She walks past the filing cabinets, A-M on the right, N-Z to the left. Or was A-L and M-Z? Anyway, the Big Boss said the file wasn’t in them. Check the dumpster, he said. Or was it a she?

—–

Alright I’m here, she thought. F-ck, gonna have to pay a visit to the chiropractor again after this. They knew they were dealing with an almost 67 year old woman, didn’t they?

“They” did. When she stood up out of the dumpster after finding no file there: retirement. Reassigned to inactivity on a different continent, her services needed no more. Another would have to be assigned.


new home

—–

“Hallo? Yes, Mr. (Mrs.?) Johnston. I’ll retrieve that file posthaste.” Good back, he (she?) noticed when hiring. Good legs. She’ll do swell.

(to be continued?)

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January 12, 2024 · 6:31 am

Thieves Landing (perfect time machine (pair of cards))

“No. *Not* like Blackbeard. It’s Red Head Beardy… shoot, let me start again. It’s Red *Dead*–”

“Why don’t I just call you Redbeard, eh?” she suggested with an interruption, hand laying on his chest. Red hair also there, she then realized, running her fingers softly through it; red hair all over, actually. “Or how about just Red?” Again, he’d heard this before. He’d turned in his hair. At a motel, he’s picking up. To be more myself, he thought.

“Oh *okay*.” He rolled over while taking her hand, looked straight into her pretty green eyes like a door or a phone. “*Black*,” he playfully chided with a return name. “Now about that ship?”

—–

She couldn’t find the free one in the inventory she had in mind, goofy looking but oh so reliable and roomy despite the odd shape. She decided to just let him have her own (The Black Pearl). On one condition: she goes too. Wherever this mysterious “X” spot is. He said there’s buried treasure to be found in the past there. 150,000 American dollars, which translates to roughly 5,000,000 dollars present day. “We just have to go there and find it in the center of the X, buy gold with it, and then come back here to cash in and spend — I’ve got it all mapped out. We’ll have to land in Mexico and take a smaller boat to the opposite shore. Or maybe just swim if the distance is not too prohibitive across the channel. How’s your swimming skills?”

“Let’s take the boat,” she said, dismissing the swimming part, not wanting to grease herself all up before going into town, this Backwater place, he said.

The name had been changed from before to protect the innocent.

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January 11, 2024 · 4:51 pm

00410509

“I came here looking for ship parts. Maybe even a whole ship. Instead I found an X. X marks the spot.”

“You’re in over your head,” she said back, the first female salvage related person he’d met. And the 1st person of color, period. She rezzed in to help, to be truthful. RDBH had the perfect angle for an opening shot. He didn’t want to mess it up.

“Or a spot marked by an X,” he changed the wording of his former sentence. Now that she had come he could look down.

Ah yes, a bunch of stuff named Mare: cigarettes, beer, ‘nother different kind of beer. “Why are you running an, er, eatery stand? Salvage person.”

“I have to make ends meet,” she said plainly, matter-of-factly. “Else how could I offer goofy looking scavengers like you such good prices, eh?”

RDBH looked over, took her in better. Pretty face. Jewels on head and body. Attractive. But the prices were still too expensive. More than one way to skin a cat? “What’s your name, dear?”

“Pearl. Black Pearl most call me. To differentiate from other types of pearls: grey, white, so on.”

“Black Pearl,” he parroted back, making the birds on his shoulders share a smile. He seemed to have heard the name before. But where?

(to be continued)

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November 10, 2023 · 8:17 am

00400615

In the morning it was all smoke and ashes anyway, the central cabin never standing a chance surrounded by a burning ring of fire. Millbank was dead, at least for another 10 or 11 months or so. Rock and his entourage found a secret portal inside the spiritually juiced piano he was playing so they’re okay. Zapppa is the key. Zapppa.

Marsha “Pink” Krakow looked up from the text she had just typed, thinking: Did all this really make sense? The reference to Zappa’s Civilization Phaze III again and people living inside a piano that he was so eager to explore toward the end of his life? And what happened to my Oz novel everyone here was so keen on? That’s it! she realized. They didn’t come out in Big Sandy but in Oz. And Alice Farrowheart the precious precocious child’s grandmother along for the ride; not being excluded this time.

In fact let’s go back in time and change something else.

Quickly twirling and catching Prontus Archereus (Archerus?) by surprise, Dr. Mouse uses the power of his cane to instead open up a portal in the wall which swiftly sucks up the bow and arrow into an oblivion of no return. De-armed, crudely drawn cartoon character Prontus was powerless before the menacing man of action.

Marsha ponders removing Prontus’ actual arms in the picture above to continue the joke but decides against it. Too late in the night to start all that.

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November 9, 2023 · 4:21 pm

00400614

Once Mouse started blowing up stuff in the sim he couldn’t quite seem to stop. “There, that’s gone,” he said, pushing the red button in his secret monitor room atop the Charles Village Anti-Omega Rehabilitation Center and remotely watching the incinerator snow globe explode. “Gone gone gone,” he continued, blowing up the forest cemetery, the Chthulu possessed skyscrapers, the Millbank Mortuary and Mental Asylum in rapid order, including patient 00 in the latter, drugged with darts in his eyes and formaldehyde in his veins and arteries. He finds the final target on a screen, trigger happy cane again hovering above red. Haunted Trailer Park Welcome Center. Once he blows this up… oh, he forgot the cabin more in the center, the one where Rock found his true calling with the revealing of a middle name Roll. Is rocking “Roll” Ramby still playing within, unable to unglue himself from the old upright piano, former spider occupants all scurried away to other parts of the structure? Do Toddles, Vain and Artery Boyy, Alice Farrowheart remain as well, ears and eyes and brains hypnotized by the brand new style of keyboard banging music?

Rock stopped his frantic playing mid-bang. “I sense something.”

Then just in the nick of time, arrow shooting municipal agent Prontus Archereus barges into the monitor room. “Hold it right there Mouse!” he commands in a mysteriously strong, masculine voice for such a crudely drawn cartoon. The doctor freezes, fearful that another arrow might take out his cane.

“I’ll… cooperate.”

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November 9, 2023 · 10:48 am

00400613 (Yellow again!)

Marsha thought they could talk freely here during the night in the park between all the buildings of the compound. Little did she know the trees, the birds, the flowers, even the bugs: bugged. Dr. Mouse would analysis the recordings later from his various sources. Eddie looked up at the big fat full silver moon before starting his soliloquy, “I love you,” being the summary sentence.

“Run away?” she said about one of the other parts, the “plan” we’ll call it.

“Yeah,” he said at the time. “Look over there. Between the bushes. I brought you something.” Broad smile. About time to say the “love” part.

Yet another bug, seemingly a different kind this time. But it was miked up as well, along with having an attached tracker. And perhaps even another one of those explosive time bombs, but definitely the first two. And maybe even Eddy, her Edward, put them there, in cahoots with the good Dr. Mouse by this point. Maybe he knows about all the bugs here. Thanks to the mother once more.

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November 8, 2023 · 2:55 pm

00400612 (holiday rotting away)

A homeless person in Millers Pond looks across the sim line and takes pictures of neighboring Millbank before it’s too late and all the Halloween oddity over there goes away for another 10 or 11 months or so. Specifically, he’s recording a supposed secret meeting between Dr. Mouse and Dr. Brown not far from the mortuary and mental asylum where we first saw them in this here photo-novel: 40, fast drawing to a close itself. Which will last longer might be a question to be asking, Millbank or this?

Two went in, one came out. Murder. Most foul.

—–

“Pretend you’re a woman of that type, Dr. Brown,” Dr. Mouse said within, “with alll these temptations just sitting there all around you. Would you stay on the grounds?”

“No red blooded man *or* woman could resist,” spoke Dr. Brown, knowing human psychology and physiology all too well. Convex and concave — attraction. Irresistible, especially in that overall climate. And he didn’t forget concave to concave; applies here too. The institution Dr. Mouse set up will not hold the girl, a true Venus.

“Serenity Lane, yes,” spoke Dr. Mouse about the fairer sex aspect of the situation, having studied the combined files thoroughly by now. “Drugged her, then drugged her over to the prison, the mother mayor’s magical cuffs in place. Serenity loved Marsha just as much as she loved ex-wife Shelley before; would keep her around at any cost. Shelley… Johnston — Johnston, right?”

“Yeah. Think so,” answered Brown.

“And the other?” Dr. Mouse tested.

“Brown,” answered Brown.

—–

Mouse couldn’t take a chance on the name synchronicity. He’d have to find another second hand to go along with his first in the aberrant bomb clock of time that is their story. Tick tick tick goes the sim of Millbank. Tick tick tick goes the text of photo-novel 40. Oh what the heck, let’s just start with this house to destroy the evidence.

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