Hucka Doobie looks up into the Blue Feather Cube and imagines seeing Mr. Tom “Spilly” Bean emerge from the center of a triangle of 3 white stars, falling or perhaps even plummeting to Earth in a beam of white. Must be white.
Now to bring him actually to life.
She recalls the day she gave up her blackness, all ears now. In the opposite direction: red. She became the Controller after that, some say Morgan the Hagg returned from a watery grave, even. She picked up the phone. She gave him a call. Pepi “Can” Kolya was no more in her life. Until now, which was actually then.
“Herbert, it’s me,” she remembered saying into the screen, waiting with baited breath for a reply. Was that even his correct name?
“Herbert. I mean, *Newt* (sigh). Can I take off the ears now?”
“Not yet, babydoll.” He reaches over.
Kick-ass Bogota gets valuable information from an ur-parent and relays later to Axis-Windmill in Horns of Hatton.
“I’m trying to reclaim the messed up 5th. You know Messed Up, don’t you Kick-ass?”
“My *brother* does. A different Kick-ass…”
“… for a different season, yes. You are… unformed… yourself.”
Kick-ass Bogota thought about this for a minute, then said: “You have been uninformed about this. I am instead *uniformed*, as in decorated, as in ace pilot of the 1st World Wide Web War.” He knocks on his forehead with this, pure metal revealed by the clunks.
“Maybe,” he shot back quickly, then looked out the window at the surrounding chaos. Unformed, uninformed, uniformed. Brother Kick-ass would switch signs with him later in the night so he could talk more with Axis-Windmill at the Horns bar where they now meet regularly. Lichen Roosevelt is usually there, serving up drinks behind the bar. The Mann is *always* there. Taking notes, most likely. And who is that he spies (at the time) in the back. Green like him, at least in the shirt. And those apples…
“It’s time you got away don’t you think. You’re only *Kind of* Messed Up.”
Kind Of Messed Up takes a sip of his drink and mulls this over. Junbug does the same with her Bombs Away.
This is what she studies, Duncan, this *Rose* Wells. Boxes… cubes I suppose.
“Borneo?” He’d heard that name before. Something about corn.
The blue sphere appears. Duncan disappears. Duncan saw too much in the field! Field “on”, and then he was there — in Reality — beyond the 300 or starting with the 300. Fieldon town limits.
The 2 blue spheres were 2 1/2 years apart, meaning that they were opposite each other — in the garden representing our solar system or an Earth limited one, with The Sun in the center (19). And what about The Observer there, watching from a table on the edge of the property? Fortress: Duncan was warned not to go back, and that maybe rats were there, perhaps similar to the ones within the tulips that make them move in oh so mysterious ways.
He was trying to mark the way (to the Fortress) with well placed toys. But they were not allowed here? White moves on beyond Black (Duncan) with Red, with Red obviously equaling Indian Wells now, both Asian and American at once. White Mage, in this scenario, is merely Hidi again.
“Primary Rabbit?” he asks, back at the home with the mannequins out front.
“I think… I’m ready to move beyond Black.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0407, Bellisaria, Blue Feather Sea^, Eveningwood, Hand Spring, Herman Park, Illinois, Maebaleia/Satori, Tile Creek, Yards Creek, Yards Mountain, Yaya Land
It was a Red Land, mix in a bit of yellow (“Yelloo!”), a kinder, gentler Axis for the modern agogo world of yesterday’s tomorrow, mix in a little propeller (whirl, whirl whirl!). Okay, let’s ditch the propeller cap actually. Here he is.
Bit of midriff showing but we’re working on it: we’ve called him Windmill Man, as he stands at the bottom of another Diagonal that acts as the axis for the Chalet subcontinent of Bellisaria. Bellisseria. This is the path to FREEDOM, starting at Brady Stream. I check nightly for name changes to the surrounding base sims.
The Diagonal moves upwards beyond Bellisaria into the Maebaleia continent, almost as hard to spell. And this is where we must begin tonight, because new things are happening in Cassandra — just off this Diagonal or affected by its energy. Developments continue…
It was a poor, shivering girl indicating that lawnmower guy Jacob I. was still alive and awake and kicking like a little baby here. Somewhere. Thank you. I said: thank you. Watch out! (swerve at last second)
She stayed back, hesitant, while he moved forward, bold and brash and most likely naive. Poor Kolya, she thought. He can’t see the Overlord right in front of his face. He’d been warned (*sip*).
He was happy with his refreshed lemonade in the moment and had no other concerns. He doesn’t recall anything about the operation, she thinks. The holes still exist, although certainly not glorious any longer. He remains (dot dot dot) damaged goods.
There was only one thing for it. Another ring.
“Herbert. It’s me.”
The Paper Kings dropped a Big Baby behind enemy lines and Claude Sit-on got sat-on. His son Claude Jr. carried on the family name, obviously. In retaliation he tried to wire the school so that it would blow up at 4:20 o’clock on [pick any day], but the kids foresaw this and blew up Claude Jr. instead. With their minds of course, no primitive physics needed. End of mechanoid aspect of our story, but later the Claudes, jr. and sr. now conjoined and united as one Claude in the minds of people who couldn’t remember the originals, became martyrs to the cause. It was here that Dr. Mouse entered our story again. “He died for *our* sins,” the fanatic was telling him back in their secret basement lair underneath the mayor’s house, now run by Jim Turbine the plastic surgeon. He surged, he won. Former mayor Longnose went back to Yayaland where he came from and started wearing a different face (at times) and leading the resistance to his own cause, which eventually recruited Guy Benjamin from Kowloon who eventually was able to steal the little yellow fellow, the Rael McCoy, from the other 3 while they had their backs turned. And this is where Dr. Mouse enters our story once more (!), for he was asked to perform a special operation to straighten out the racist lad. *Not* remove the color this time, which should remain glinty gold or close, they insist, just like Claude down in Sittontown (Meatside renamed). “What, then?” demanded Mouse, afraid he would see a rat in such a remote place and eager to get outta here. “Turn him into an *I*,” they said, and left it with him.
Dr. Mouse went back to his basement lair, told the others what had happened. A plane crashed outside in front of the cave that sheltered Sheldon the Initiated, Fern Stalin in disguise once again — I believe this was 42 by this point. On the other side of Paper, Swamp Lake had been drained by the resistance *here* in an attempt to stifle the efforts of the kids. The Asylum was filled with those who weren’t really loonies but were deemed so nevertheless. And Dr. Mouse was the stamp-maker. He wore many hats, but there was only 1 he wanted to live under. Hatti’s.
“What do you think? First attempt, mind you.”
Greg Ogden was stymied. “Is that a… banana?”
She finds herself in a place doing realistic things, like blow drying her hair. But this is the morning she finds out she is actually a man. She stares into the mirror, looking at them after the removal of the false, the fake. How deflating!
The mayor’s nose keeps growing. Guy visits the doctor again, still working for the resistance. A new strategy is being hatched. Stealing the golden goose egg *has* produced results. He’s straightened out, elongated: the I of TILE revealed.
(to be continued)
John thought and thought and realized he wanted a Corona-V. “The new one,” he uttered in calm, stoic way, fit for a Man of Faith. Lamb was behind him now, supporting him, uplifting his career. He must get back to the parish. “I hate to do it but cancel that, Jack.” Man of Science was not amused. “John, *how* am I suppose to keep in bus–“, but he was cut short. John had disappeared (again). Jack re-turned. “I guess this one’s on you,” which user Peter Oesso didn’t argue with.
Come on, *dance* with me boys, the blue haired witch requested in her mind from the corner. Soon they were with her.
“*Just* escaped, whew!”
He had followed John down to the Ravine (bar) but he was no saint. Lamb equals Ram; he sees himself in his own face, the user power.
I was a beautiful little girl before becoming such a handsome man, he thinks, still changing, still metamorphasizing.
“I’ll have what John’s having, please.”
Brother Jack the bartender turns. “Yeah, what’ll it be, *John*??”
Always look for the spaces between things. There lies art.
I am not a painter in this life. I am a collagist. Moving on…
“What does the future hold for me Esmerelda?”
“A cave? A *landscape*?”
Very faint from across the table again: “Enter the cave.”
He paid Ms. Wells handsomely and was on his way again.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0501, collages 2d, Crisp Sea, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Paper Soap, Soap, Wild West, Yaya Land