Category Archives: Soap

around the corner 02

So many more stories to tell in this here Paper-Soap, sims still united despite the best efforts of Old Man Allen Martin and his Paper Kings. See what I mean? But we must move back to Nautilus for now to investigate the eye. Monolith painter Greg Ogden’s on his final quarter, we could put it. STOP

START Someone is about to emerge.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0601, Nautilus, Paper Soap, Soap, Southwestern

dwarf crushing

“Red green blue, man. Red green blue.” Bob tripping the white stick fantastic.

“But where’s yellow?” added Dole, and then looks around as if it would materialize in the air as well as on his jacket. He spots the concrete parking divider right in front of his face and realizes what it is. “Whoa, dude,” he exclaims, trying not to look directly into its “eye”. “Check it out.”

“Radical,” Bob said more low, exhaling pungent smoke into the air. He looked even further away. He knew it was there all along. Alll along.

“Straightened and everything!” Dole exclaimed, and started shuffling his feet a bit in the excitement. “Like a… huh, banana or something. Frozen banana, wow.” Still averting the eye. Peeling away from it, even.

“Exactly, man. Exactly.” Bob bogarted the last drag off the white stick.  “You got it, man. You’re so (*exhale*) right on.” Stick fragment to the ground, then…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0517, Paper Soap, Soap

Quick Stop

“Can I help you with anything, inspector!?” the acne faced clerk called over. He’d neglected the chef part in the title — must be a town newcomer. But that’s the hat he’s currently wearing: private cook not public dick (he’ll switch over at dusk). And he needs some special ingredients for his surprise pie. He’s almost got it. Something about recently deceased Bob Dole in a Franco-American afterlife. And butterflies — he can’t help mixing business with pleasure. He always seems to have eyes in the back of his head as well as front; part of his two faced, interior/exterior personality.

But nature calls right now and he can’t wait until he gets back to the apartment. Public will have to do again. He pivots, he sliides. He opens the unlocked door.

“Oh. Excuse me,” he calls into the man in the dark also studying butterflies. Is no place sacred any more?? The apartment it will have to be.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0516, Paper Soap, Soap

Trapped!

“*Cult* of the 3 Suns brought ME here.” Zzzzz’s from the “listener”. “You still with me?” Clearly he wasn’t, but Dr. Herbert Thomas Brown only needed a sounding board this late at night, when the bitterness fully kicked in. “My Three Suns, the wife called them, before her own mysterious disappearance.” A snort this time, then rolling over and more snores. Tom was a good guy, Dr. Brown could have thought here. But he sleeps a lot. Oh well… not a lot else to do in this alley separated from reality. He tried to think of a joke combining the words reality and alley to more accurately describe their situation but it didn’t quite come together. Fitting. “Then I went to *Falmouth*… don’t get me started about *Falmouth*, pheh.” He looked over at Tom: still rolled over but quieter now. Had he awaken? Brown thought. Was he, I don’t know, actually listening to him this late at night for a change? Something about Falmouth?

—–

Knock knock knock. “Honey?! I decided to join you on your vacation after all. Darling?! Are you in there?!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0515, Bay City/Nova Albion^, Nascera^^, Paper Soap, Sansara, Soap

34th Street

“I’m just saying you haven’t been the same, since… since…”

“Cincinnati. Just say it.”

“Bench..”

“I know,” he interrupted again, knowing the story all too well.

“It was a lot of lumber!”

“He deserved it.” Silence for a bit, then: “I guess we’re going to talk about Rose next. The *ul-timate* Red.”

She shook her head. “No. No, I’m just saying…”

“It was the frigg’n Metz!” he exclaimed, finally raising his voice on the subject, as he almost always does. “How would I know, a MIRACLE would occur?”

“It,” she tried to calm him down, “was… a long time ago.”

“Not in my nogg’n.” He knocked on his head. It made a hollow sound. Lumber again. Bench would get his revenge. “The whole *team*, was jinxed. Just look at their names. Rose, pheh. Bench, *huff*. Perez… well that one was kind of normal. But *Morgan*.”

“Now dearest, why don’t we wrap up some more presents,” she distracted again. “Then afterwards, afterwards…” She dangled her leg seductively. No need to think about 69 any longer. *That* 69.  It was often the only way to get him to shut up about it once he started. Now the other leg joined the first: two danglers. Would he take the bait?

—–

“Tom… SEEVER!” he said to end. Always the same.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0514, Iowa, Paper Soap, Soap

another one?

“Why aren’t you guys sitting across from each other still? *Anyway*, we know the Anomaly is the same as this beanstalk being mentioned around this here town, Paper-Soap still, despite the attempts at division. It doesn’t jam our systems any longer — a situation we should toast to sometime (come to think of it) — but its presence is still around.” Goober gobble. “Reports now. Whatcha got Agent 47?” he speaks to the closest one. “Er, 23,” he adjusts, seeing a hair on the upper lip. Male this one is. The other: female, despite the baldness and otherwise seeming identicalness. More experiments of The Mouse.

“We’re monitoring situations of a bust,” he metered out crisply, almost like a robot but without the needed, metallic squeaking of the inner mechanics. Like with the Claudes. “A painter. Paper.” He glances over at Agent 47, noting the hairless lip and the current desire to kiss it. When did these feelings start for 23?? He guessed that birthday party. Where they summoned The Devil again, pheh.

“A ring,” continued 47 on the same case. “Within…” he looked back.

“… a ring,” completed 23 for him, contemplating whether to blow him (*a kiss*!).

“So you’re saying to me, people, that this bust involves a ring (*brinnng*). And not only that, another ring within that ring? (*brinnngg*). How deep are we?”

The phone rings for the third time at the far end of the table. It’s one of the Claudes, which is always bad news.

Jim walks in (*brinnng*). “I’ll get it.”

“NOOOOOO!!!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0513, Paper Soap, Soap

Paper… Soap

An expert at 4 was called in to help with the transition from whole to half: Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, last seen wheeling this dark baby around NWES City over on the Jeogeot continent one last time before putting it in storage. Stored no more; out and about again. Thanks to Zoidboro and the magically pronounced words.

Mr. Yellow glances in at the *plant* sitting beside him in the yellow chair, the cheese being also known as Marilyn but seldom seen in that guise except for the gifted of sight. She’d even given him back his attached rats to make him pure rabbit again, although he didn’t know it in the moment. He talks to his supervisor via phone. Dr. Mouse. Dr Mouse? Yes. Dr. Mouse.

“Good, good,” he says about the setup over at the new rental beside the old parsonage Zoidboro was kicked out of just yesterday’s today’s tomorrow. He knew now he was (also) fully back to life. He imagined he could throw a stone from his asylum and it would hit the roof, perhaps rolling down to knock his agent on the head. In fact, I think he went up to his own roof to gauge if this were actually possible. Let’s take a pic of it.

No: a bit too far still; trees kind of in the way. He can’t help but point with his cane at what irritates him presently, old habits dying hard.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0512, Paper, Paper Soap, Soap

00300416

“You must love me exactly as I love you!”

And so we’ve returned to Black Lake in a very unexpected way through Misty and her partially submerged beau, soon to be husband (??); circled back around. We have similar choices that we did before here, then. Return to Paper Soap from Paperweight using the resonant keyword Paper? A painter paints, a complainer complains. I’m no painter and I’m no complainer. I can go with the flow, even if it doesn’t involve oiling it up and applying to canvas. Joey Avatar knows how comfortable canvas feels now (!). I don’t need to break a couple of nails to understand, but I do need to hammer a couple. In our fence. I’m looking out our Real Life window now. So many people outside, though. If only they would go away for at least that one special day of the year. Hmm.

And I still have a foothold in Paper-Soap, with transfigured Moes’ pink welcome mat seen here back in the sewer tunnels behind sitting old Keith B. I always seem to have to brighten up the place considerably with “Phototools – Lo Gun Light” sky to snap a proper enough picture. But the dark, conjoined sims seems very important still — moving down the road. Photo-novel 31 should start just after Christmas or around the New Year. Omicron’s moving in from the north west east south too. Soon we’ll be surrounded on all sides, blocked in. I need to keep my options open. I’ve had a good run at my job. I’m saying goodbye to the school as a whole, wrapping things up. I know where my mentors are, the painterly ones, the ones that draw as well, were able to bridge the gap between the two disciplines, like Paul Clay. I was relaying to a student I was working with the other day about not liking clay, as in pottery. Foundation classes were cool, but when I moved on to the specialty courses, like pottery, like *weaving* — not a weaver — I lost interest. I dropped out. I returned 6 years later under the good graces of the college, completed my art degree. But, as stated, I’m not a painter, even thought that was my declared emphasis. Never was. I’m not a Warren. I’m not a Dennis.

But what do I have instead? A canvas true, if a map can be considered as such. It’s the world as a whole but it’s very focused in on our US of A. And within that US of A: Iowa. Ringgold County, even — just one county. And at the center of that county: a hypercube; there can be no doubt. You look inside the translucent layers, like paper, and see the bottom writing on the walls. Everywhere.

We continue…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0416, Crisp Sea, Iowa, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Paper Soap, Soap, Wild West

rock’n 5 second commercial

Announcer: “Ono’s Octopus Balls…

… an avalanche of flavor!”

—–

“It’s great!” said character-husband John Lemon, glad to get back on the horse.

“Love the hand coming out from under a rock effect,” octopus ball recipe inventor extraordinaire Yoka Ono added.

“We’ll put it on after the 9 o’clock news,” said the network big wig behind them, not needing to look and instead studying his hand for warts. He could hear the success. “Test it out on the non-magical people first.”

“Fantastic.” John envisioned the money rolling in like batter covered spheres.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0404, ENIGMA, Nautilus, Paper Soap, Soap, Wild West

00290611

“I lost you in the tunnel!” director Percy Pierce complains as Axis-Windmill tries to defend his disappearance from a the scene.

“Well, ahem…”

“And I see you brought your two cat friends along to help your case. She turns to the red-blue eyed one on his right. Rebl *lawyer* is it now?”

“Yes ma’am. Axis did nothing wrong,” she begins in her purry way. “He followed the G-Spots through the tunnel to the missing letters.”

“Letters?” Percy Pierce spoke. “Don’t you mean: *letter*.”

A pause. “A moment with my client,” Rebl then requests, which Percy agrees to. Whispers; heads nodding and shaking; green and yellow eyed Guyd on the left side joins in the conversation. Percy can only make out scattered words (Paper, King, Soap, couple more). Finally: “enough”, she says. “We must get on. 9:30 shoot tomorrow. We must all be fresh.”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” says Rebl in turn. “Don’t you mean: *shot*?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0611, Paper Soap, Soap