Category Archives: Eveningwood

where’s the beef?

If we could just recreate the original crime scene. Pigeon roosting on ass; Amanda Stoorm placing an ultra important call to Buster Damm.

Call? Looks like we just did. Duncan Avocado brings it home.

—–

“I knew you’d be here, Ginger. Because of the face replacement clinic and all.”

“500 lindens for a whole new look. Worth every penny!”

“Yes, you look great, you look fantastic.” Could Duncan date a high class white chick like this and get away with it in this town, this place in the center of it all? It would be controversial. Maybe *he* should get an operation. He knows a certain Dr. of Mouse who might be able to help. He ponders the outcome, black to white. But is he running away from his heritage because of that? He’s *tired* of being discriminated upon, but he’s in the same boat with the rest of his color. He can’t date fair, red haired Wendy down at Mac’s Diner either for the same reason, that damn white racist rat Pansy watching over it all. If only he could get rid of the Pooping Pigeon franchise, maybe create a reality where Wendy branches out on her on, dumps the hot dog angle, and goes all in for burger. Pure Angus beef; not those ridiculous fillers for the dog like lips and genitalia, even if that isn’t quite true. People could be trained to *think* that.

And that’s what he decided that day in the late of May or early June or whatever. Kill the Hot Dog, stick a pigeon on its rump and call it done. Killer Andrea Stoorm, trained in the Death Star battalions, knew what to do, Buster guiding her and then Buster telling Duncan what actually happened. “We manipulated probabilities in that Middletown alley that day in early May.” “June,” I corrected, but understood it all now. There was only one actual killing, the other 5 being deflections or subterfuge. Although it still thrived in other realities, in this one the Pooping Pigeon was over almost before it started, with Pansy behind bars behind a bar instead.

“What’ll it be Duncan, my man?” Always the “man” for the black dude, he observed. But at least he still played his old music here.

And now: Hidi.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0516, Eveningwood, Nautilus^^, Slaashsides

behind again

“In-tro-DUC-innnnnnng…”

Wheeler/Hidi stared at the drugs on the table and realized it was just money. Constraints of time, power, and that other thing they don’t talk about much any more, not after Kolya. Damaged goods he was. She must not touch, she says once again in her mind to reinforce. There was a 2 shaped hole in his head where the rain gets in. Marty knows; Marty may have even created. “Fiftysix,” she says aloud to know one. “They had to stop at fiftysix.”

Duncan returns from the bar with 2 drinks. Duncan said he’d never ever come back to this town, this Eveningwood that would one day become so central to Our Second Lyfe that they decided to rename it Middle: Middletown, a basically endless megalopolis that one could get lost in forever. Fractal. You have to find a path through it or else, doomed. Duncan knew this. Duncan had a path; he had almost worked out all the details. Labeling will begin soon. He knows that The Fortress is at the end, but he doesn’t know what’s inside. It all terminates at The Fortress.

Hidi has her drink. Duncan sits down with his. They have more to talk about tonight besides Middletown, fiftysix, Kolya.

“Who’s going to come through the black curtains, Duncan,” she spoke after a couple of sips of her whiskey on the rocks. “I thought it would be you.” She looks over at his blackness and sees it is good. He looks over at her whiteness: also good.

“Well, I thought it was going to be you, obviously. But you were already here when I arrived, sitting on that couch.”

“And you at the bar.” She ponders further, as she hears the metallic sound of a gate opening. A red complexioned Asian Indian then comes through the curtains, beckoning them to follow. At the beginning of a tunnel just behind, he then tells Duncan he must go back, his path through the beginnings of Middletown at least temporarily blocked.

He returns alone from the bars to whence he came.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0317, Eveningwood

time barrier (morning to evening)

“These are powerful people,” spoke Buster in my head. “They control *portals*. Portals between realities. And once you cross the line you may not know which is which.” Wise words from a small vampire man, still living in VHC City near Duncan for all I know. Still frequenting that bakery where Duncan was inducted into Pot-D, until the cursed, bloody Yelloo sun comes up at least. Give him the light and dark side of the moon any time. Give him money procured from criminal actions deep in darkness and shadows. Give him… well, we’ll leave out the third. In fact we’ll chuck the whole dark triad, for Buster Damm is now full of light and goodness, thanks to the blood transfusions combined with the positive energy of Pot-D itself. Yes, the story of our small vampire friend, best buddies with fellow and much larger (or regularly shaped) vampire Pitch Darkly, will have a happy ending. He has his wife Betty now, who can appear tiny, like him, but also larger — to allow the couple freedom to move about in the world of regular joes and josettes — are also born again TILISTS. They’d studied the sinks of Maebaleia and other continents extensively. They’re convinced of the 3d hyperspin of Maebaliea and Jeogeot separate from the rest of Their Second Lyves to create the sinks in the first place. And above and beyond this, roosting on it like a demented OWL… but I’ve said too much here. ROOST is key.

—–

What did Duncan see on the other side of the 300? He observed the observer, almost hidden in a small wood of trees behind a barrel here.

He had dominion over his compact, changeable kingdom-queendom at 200 E Locust, he and his wife. But the wife also observes, 2 1/2 years in the past, an overturned chair on a porch just to the west. The lawn deer’s baby has moved back into its womb. Stars appear.


May 2018


Dec 2015

And a blue sphere moves from one side of a small garden space to the other to emphasize its importance. I think we know what *this* means.

Better shot of the observer.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0316, Eveningwood, Illinois, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

knowing your place

“Well I must say that was certainly an interesting game of pool we just played (!). How’s your, aherm, back doing Marty?”

“Fine, fine. Just need to stretch it out.” Marty had never tried something like this. “How’s your beer holding out?” he says, turning. “Smoking and drinking at once, I see?”

“Yeah.” He looks over at the dizzying megalopolis outside the skybox window. “Middletown, pheh. Who knew it was going to grow so big.”

“Yes, we’re on the edge all right…”

“Of something *big*”

Duncan looks on, unseen and unamused. “You choose the medium you have,” he can hear Buster in his head, clear as rain, “and you have the medium you choose. Roger and Marty aren’t *lovers* per se. It’s all symbolic past the clue.”

“Fiftysix,” Duncan says aloud for no one to hear. “Paul’s switch.”

Better get back and prepare food for George, he realized, looking at the time.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0315, Eveningwood, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

even oddballs

“Maybe *this* is what I need in NWES City. A Penny Lane style magic shop. Or mystic shop. Whaddaya say, Marty?”

“Roger. We’re here to talk about my death. Right over there.” Marty points to the chair at the window where he was stabbed in the heart and bled out only the night before in this central Eveningwood location. So central, so *middle*. In the future if not now, the town will be called that because of its sensual nature. Middletown, with any sign of Eveningwood swept away as in a raging fire or something. But for now the signs remain. Clues and signs.

“You *know* why we’re here Roger. Evening out.”

“Right: takes two to know. What, er, does the book say? About the spell. Can you reverse (the murder)?”

“It says: look in the beech grove for the answers you seek. Marg will be waiting.” Marty looks up at Roger. “Marg? Like in the game? I *killed* Marg.”

“No,” corrected Roger Pine Ridge opposite him at the fortune teller’s table. “You said Marg killed everyone else, including the ragamuffin — I think.”

“That’s not true.” Marty puts hand to chin in thinking mode. He tries to remember the order of things. Marg bludgeons Homer with her purse, then, yes, *kills* Boss Burns, then Willy comes up, steals the purse, and goes on his own murderous rampage. Marty puts down the book. “We’re looking for a man named Willy, then. He may go by Willard.”

“George?” spoke Roger back, knowing the name.

—-

With this, they head back to the Blue Feather in Collagesity to study the table in preparation for future actions.

“We’ve left Merry Gouldbusk, Eraserhead Man, Barry De Boy back in the dust. Looming ahead are both Sandy Beech and Buster Damm at 58.”

“Duncan will never allow us to reach Buster together. We’ll have to stop before that. Don’t want to anger him! No telling what powers he has now. He’s at least 2 nights ahead of us in the search.”

“For… Yelloo.”

“Exactly Mr. Roger Pine Ridge, my fellow 54.”

“For now.”

“Let’s agree, then, to stop at 57.”

“Make it 56,” Roger urged, knowing a bit more in this area. They bickered on it. They settled on it. [Delete number] it is.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0313, Eveningwood

having a hoot

“Look out below! Coming down,” he continued while sliding.

“Made it I see,” Marty greeted him nonchalantly. “My new personal shadow.”

Roger Pine Ridge walked over. “Whatchadoing?”

Marty has wife Marg bludgeon Homer with a weighted purse to begin, then answers. “Trying, ahem (death of Boss Burns now with purse), to figure out the clue Duncan Avocado got from this game.”

“Duncan *who*?”

“Avocado.” Marty has Willy walk up to Marg and belch in her face, then steal her deadly purse and kill Mo the bartender with it. Quick as a wink.

“Well I say. Listen, how much longer are you going to be here? In this, er, *firehouse*?”

“I am the fireman,” Marty states plainly. “As long as I wish — this is my project.” Death to Principle Poop now.

“O-kay.” Roger Pine Ridge tries to decide how to exit gracefully from this awkward situation. He was tailing Marty to this Eveningwood place, true, but didn’t expect him to be engrossed in anything like this, and declare it was totally a situation of his concoction and that he had everything under control. Fires rage outside! But here he was, cool and calm and collected, like it was pouring down rain all over the countryside.

“Just — gotta — find — the ragamuffin.” Many bleeping noises now. “*There*” Skateboarding Bart Smipson got run over by a doughnut truck headed to Homer’s.

—–

Roger Pine Ridge decides to wait on the roof. Everything seemed familiar. He stares out at the Eveningwood cityscape realizing there were were no raging fires and that Marty was right and he had everything under control, at least here. The light side of the moon rose over the horizon. Yes, must have been a trace of that brain damage he feared so much, the other, thought-to-be-left-behind Roger leaking in a bit.

Marty beams up, beaming. “Found it!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0312, Eveningwood

Zee West

It was almost too painful to bring back Marsha “Pink” Krakow, or catch up with what happened to her after her — after her…

“Death. Go ahead and say it Baker B.”

“Death, yes. Thank you. I guess, then, I’m sitting beside you now in some guise.”

“I talk to him, you know,” she deflected, or got more straight to the matter. “Tom Banks, I — we, talk to him. Me and myself and maybe I as well. He sits in front of us and we ask him about his soul, his own destiny. Will it be Hell forever and ever? We determined early on it will be not. *We* are murderers just as much as him, that’s what we determined (early on). W-ierd, eh? You eat through time; you see these things, like ants in cheese. Something.” She stopped here. She asked if she could play a song for me. She had become a composer in the afterlife. “Nice,” I replied. She was about ready to move toward the guitar just over there, about to play her song. The one about “Jackie Blue”, if Blue is Pink. I suppose she would have had to rewrite it, then. Or revert it (something).

—–

She asked me to stay for a spell, saying I helped brighten up the place. I knew I shouldn’t, I couldn’t. But maybe someone else could. I’d have to ponder on that for a while as I went about doing other things in other places. Starting with…

—–

“Has he figured out — how you are?” came the question on the other end in a familiar voice. So hoarse and raspy Blue, like FLY.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0309, Eveningwood, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Rim Isles

cross plains

Duncan pauses in his examination of Eveningwood. 300 address at the western edge of town: where had he seen this before? And a “ROOST – Jasper Landing TALL Fence” over there — interesting.

Duncan would keep going, but he would never return to Our Second Life as he crosses the boundary between real and imaginary on the other side of the 300. Virtual I meant there. Real and virtual. He was a black man inside the sphere; he never knew what hit him.

“Oh *I* see. Field *on*. As in some kind of activated force field.”

“Spherical in nature,” he added.

But who were these people inside this darkened cinema on the edge of realities? They stare into the screen as if a window.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0307, Eveningwood, Illinois

recognizer

He found himself playing this game in an arcade. They’d sent Hidi back home, saying the place, this Eveningwood, was too dangerous for a gal like her, all tempting and such. It was a job for a man, they said. A black man. “Me?” he asked, knowing the answer. The look in Buster’s eyes told him. “Me,” he answered himself. Thus: here.

He’d never heard of The Smipsons but he was told to play the game with the little yellow fellow named Bart. He needs to be fast on his skateboard to outrun all those giant tigers, Duncan thought, seeing the kid soar through the air like a bird or a plane.

If only he’d learned Roman numerals before entering that zoo.

“Yelloo!” Homer Smipson said in greeting. Duncan had his clue.

Peter Oesso upstairs, in contrast, had nothing.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0305, Eveningwood

00260302

I speculated that the community knew about The Diagonal. W’s first foray into the region produced a default landing point of 181/181, which placed her in this almost impossibly and certainly impractically weighty clock tower. 558 prims! Certainly we must question whether prim/ land impact count is managed effectively here, which may actually bode well for a more penetrating examination.

She found a place to catch up with the local news and find out more about the town. Lots of changes, lots of updates. And a statement: if a building falls on you DON’T PANIC. Our crack hospital team will patch you up in no time. Hidi looks up into the rafters with this. This one seems sound enough. She’ll stay a bit longer, have another cup of coffee and read some more. Apparently the local police force is hiring. Maybe she could work as a beat cop to pay what is obviously going to be expensive rent here. Local general hospital hired new chief administrator; you can legally purchase weed here: local pot shop has just been taken over by the Greentree family. Wasn’t she just reading about Greenforests somewhere? And then, to finish off, an advice column by Aunt Auntie. Oh dear, Hidi thought. This town promises to be more than expected! Something about playing rough then playing nurse, dot dot dot.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0302, Eveningwood