Category Archives: The Cross

March 5, 2024 · 5:03 am

1 day even earlier…

I found they’d arranged for me to stay with a prominent town businessman: none other than the owner of the red topped building that I’d had my eyes on ever since I arrived by boat from Wallytown earlier that day. Mayor Golden Jim escorted me over to his house on the western edge of town for introductions. We found him rocking in front of an unlit fireplace, apologizing for how cold it was and that he’d run out of “burny sticks” weeks ago.

Golden Jim immediately scolded him for this. “I told you Wendy would be arriving today; I told you to get your house in order; I could have gotten you all the firewood you could fit into this place of yours, pheh.” He looked around at the numerous cats roaming around here and there while sniffing the air. “And you could have done something with these *animals* as well. Place smells like urine.”

He stood up and turned toward us. An okama! A man who was basically half woman, although I’d never seen one up close and personal like this. He said his name was Majo, and then he leapt on a nearby cube stool face first and proceeded to do some kind of yoga exercise on it, another type of rocking.

“Feel free to use Fuzzy Wuzzy over there to jump in place a while and get your body temperature up. I do 30 jumps 30 times a day now, but I’m always doing this, cold or not. That’s why I keep the house cold because I’m so warm from all the exercise. My apologizes again, fair Wendy.” He stood up once more, approached us, looked me over head to frick’n foot. “Wendy of Alpha I believe,” he said with a kind of disapproving smirk on his face. He was staring right through me.

“No takers for Fuzzy Wuzzy? Very well…”

“… 28 (jump), 29 (jump), *30*,” and he leapt down on the other side now, approaching me until his face was only about 6 inches from mine. “I’ve heard you’re here for my *store*.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0210, Kangerootown+, Omega, The Cross

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March 4, 2024 · 7:43 am

2 days earlier…

They had wined and dined her after she arrived. The town seemed to want the establishment as much as she wanted to put it there, enthusiasm matching enthusiasm. Town mayor Golden Jim, named for his money instead of his appearance, looks on below as Wendy attempts to pull the local version of an Excalibur sword from a stone…

…failing of course.

All visiting dignitaries have to go through the protocol. Mayorial assistants Mokeujin Gold and (especially) Mokeujin Brass, most definitely named for their color and not their riches — not being paid enough for their valuable services by the mayor — couldn’t help but laugh at sprawling Wendy on the surrounding sand. Golden Jim was above such gutteral amusement, taking it all in like the established ritual it was.

“Next up we have the sculpture of Soupy Sells,” he moves the procession along after helping Wendy off the sand garden’s surface, “the person most responsible for the town as it is. If it wasn’t for his soup… well, we all know the story.” He was tired of telling the story. Maybe it was time to think about retirement too, join Newt in the ranks of the unemployed. 64 fast approaching 65 he himself was. “Golden you’ll notice, just like, well, me. He was my grandfather. Some called him Golden Jack. Some called him Skippy because he also did that. Some: John. Others: Rob. A few even spoke his name as Luther. A person way from up in the mountains addressed him as Oregeno. And I believe (he turned to his assistants here) — correct me if I’m wrong, Gold, Brass — but the former mayor once called him Jasper. And then Evelyn, you know Evelyn who lives by the docks. Think she said his name was Saucy. Saucy Sells. But that was probably just a mistake because of the old popularity of soup and sauce together back in the days. Back in *Evelyn’s* days…”

He went on and on like this, producing new names for the man, the legend they most commonly called Soupy. The spark of love for his job had been reignited. Attention to details like multi-monikers. Golden Jim also went by many names, but that’s another story for another day.

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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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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0208, Castle Town+, HANA LEI, Kangerootown+, Omega, The Cross

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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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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0201, Back Rooms, Heterocera, Omega, Southern, The Cross

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May 21, 2023 · 4:59 pm

ice cream dress 02

She woke up at 8 o’clock, another force of habit,  in her starry tent, still wearing her similarly star studded ice cream outfit — the reason Marilyn knew where she belonged. She checked her legs underneath the sky purple covers. Wooden one still there, ugh. What was she *thinking*? Her Husband assured her that California was safe, and that navels were still in the center of bodies and the supreme deity known as All Orange would protect the rest. “You just have to make sure it shows a bit,” he said as they packed to leave, and demonstrated it on himself, tying his shirt above his somewhat bulging stomach. Outie. Not her cup of tea, but then some of the other parts made up for it. She recalls walking around an art gallery across the road from Rhodenwald with original hubby Axis, staring at the red and green paintings. “‘Green Monster’ — over there.” He pointed. Ruby’s life changed. She suddenly remembered the wall, the tree beings, *everything*. And Wally and its Wallytown still lives, last time she checked anyway. Not far atall from her old sim. Protection at last?

She had to go back, she determined then and there. And, dangit, she thought — checking the inworld map in her head — only a couple sims to the south and east from here. Fate. She went downstairs and thanked ever-bartending Marilyn for the good night’s sleep and trodded in that direction, trying to compensate for the slightly shorter leg and not walk around in circles.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0410, New Island, Omega, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island, The Cross, The Straight, Wallytown/Fishers Island

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May 21, 2023 · 1:50 am

ice cream dress

After donning her last remaining Flasherman’s outfit, she crossed with the good leg, force of habit. Her Boyfriend noticed.

“I strongly suggest you get the other one done to match the first. Else you’ll go around lopsided the rest of your life, see?” But that would mean going back.

Ruby Roo stared into the mirror at her one remaining good gam, wondering if she could do it. Her Husband still sat beyond the wall of spirals over there, savoring what he’d just seen (the jumping). Her Boyfriend over here was helping her adjust to the new, post-California, Nevada style life with a wooden leg covered all over with those same type of spirals. “You could say the war did it,” he suggested. “Both of them, in fact.”

SUDDENLY he was gone, along with the hubby, along with all the cool furniture of the place. Then the skybox residence as a whole disappeared; just winked out of existence. She fell fell fell from the sky. We’ve been here before…

Of course she didn’t die when landing from her almost 4000 meter drop, merely bounced a bit. Afterwards she dusted herself off, as was standard for Our Second Lyfe avatars undergoing such a thing, and looked around, spotting a skyscraper on a nearby parcel. She walked inside, explained her situation to a handy bartender named Marilyn. “I was with My Husband. I was with My Boyfriend. Now I’m not.”

“We’ll put you up for a while,” she said, and knew just where. She’d heard such Wall stories before.

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May 20, 2023 · 4:09 pm

wood (another jumper)

How Ruby Roo got those spirals on her leg.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0408, Jeogeot, New Island, Omega, The Cross, The Straight, Wallytown/Fishers Island

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November 6, 2022 · 8:19 am

Tesseract Inn continued…

The dead will return to their graves, the bats will fly back to The Void, and the orange lights on the fir tree in the center of it all will be replaced by anything but as Halloween season shifts inevitably into Christmas. Shelley decides to bed down for the night on the comfy couch by the fire as the fog rolls in, another product of the lingering evil. The “Big Red Machine” being finished as far as she can take it, she shifts back to her standard tablet for more reading. Always 1 or 2 or 3 pages in at this time of night and she’s ready for sleep; can stash the tablet safely away beside the bed — or couch in this case — its main job accomplished. She likes to read about dreams anymore, but still has problems remembering her own. Society offers little in training for that, unfortunately, with the emphasize instead being placed on “out there”, or the manipulation of physical objects and the achievement of material goals. How much do you have in your bank account, Shelley? Not enough, society might answer. Focus your energy on investments, financial planning. But the dreams, she might protest in her mind. What about the *inner* wealth. No answer for that.

She’s spacing out instead of reading. Time to shut the eyes. She doesn’t have her special neck molding pillow but, oh well. Next time she’ll be sure to plan an intercontinental trip better; this one was rather impromptu in nature. Plus, well there are the shifts in time/location to deal with. The Cross, pheh. And now she’s trapped, in effect, in one of its quadrants, let’s say, as it divides the continent into 4 fairly equal sections, with one remaining unfinished — not the one she’s in, though, this Mountain land with its many shiny granite peaks and ridges. Must be the mica.

“Goodnight Spider!” she calls as she rolls over, using her hand as a makeshift pillow.

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