Category Archives: NE Hills

March 24, 2021 · 6:36 am

00250414

I was on a trail again, per usual. A Yd Island profile led me to here: Fonzerelli Docks, a New Babbage location which seems to have seen happier days in the past. Former owner: C. Thetan of Nova Albion. Ahh yes. Our Second Lyfe just keeps pulling surprises on me. I figured it was this location that “Fancy (Dress Ball)” Sally (Nugent?) fled from her creator we talked to a couple of posts back, but I’d have to place her here if so. No problem! Let’s meet up with her at this Ruby’s Pub, apparently a popular local watering hole and just next door to the docks.

Turns out we met at Merryman Pub on the other side of the docks, I’m not sure why. Yoko Ona was there, talking about eggs and the whites of eyes. Linda Halsey showed up and they had a punch fight, one pulling for Salieri and one just pulling hair. Finally Sally arrived, declaring herself Sally Fancy and Nugent no more, and everyone settled down and became curious and started asking her questions about her new and also former life with Halloween Jack at Phantom Hill and perhaps some other places. And of course about who we might call Dr. Not Mouse, because he wasn’t, and who created Sally and Jack both and gave them a starter house next door to his Phantom Hill Castle where they raised designer horses and played cards until midnight every day, sometimes poker but also sometimes Miles Bourne the French road game. And that’s how they met the aliens who broke down over on Highway 70, Bert and Jenny, as if the latter game had moved into reality, which is truth. They looked and looked but the most valuable card, the Right of Way, was nowhere to be found. The aliens Bert and Jenny suggested under the table, and then in the kitchen, perhaps where they were slicing bread between hands for sandwiches. The aliens got the association as well. Nowhere could it be found. Bert and Jenny were here to stay.

“We ended up playing Miles Bourne most nights,” Sally explained, “but it was like the German autobahn in there. ‘Fasten your seat belts!’ Jenny would always exclaim after the cards were dealt, and it also always ended in disaster. We were just recreating the wreck over and over.”

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November 28, 2020 · 10:08 am

holey

“Things are breaking down here at Slot Mtn. my precious precocious child. You will not be able to hold me much longer in your net.”

Toddles thought of Canada, of the weakening of Our Second Lyfe. When was a breaking point? Perhaps *now*.

She decides to take action. The grandma will have to be drugged again, pheh. Always the bad headache in the morning for her when this happens. She never suspects. Her precious precocious Toddles! But the grammy also doesn’t understand the Boos collages and their inherent Canadian-ness and will always favor the earlier Red Umbrella works and not understand that if things change in them it is because of the future which is the now. *102* is trying to communicate with her. But Casey One Hole, the a-hole of a man sitting before her and stating he is about ready to be let loose upon this virtual world with no checks in place, wants or is seeking the same thing. The Dirty Little Wet Seed is Adam: Atom-man. This produces the Green Tree. And inside the tree is Lemmy. And Lemmy is the one that can end the 102 and the salvific effect if he stays pat, protection (safety net) withdrawn.

But whose head is in the jar now? That must be the next question before we proceed further. I can’t quite get the right match. It’s not Homer. Not any longer. I don’t think.

Casey One Hole, formerly Taum Sauk of Bigfoot, Blue Mountain Urban Landscape (or thereabouts), US of Our A, continues: “If you place the right head in the jar, child, then maybe, *maybe* Your Second Lyfe can remain intact. I’ll allow that at least. Whose head did I hit with my mighty club to dislodge it from the body? Is it Homer still? The name certainly fits because they found it, bruised and battered, far over some left field fence. Think about that, child, while you stare at your Canadian images in your Canadian gallery with the 102 sister firmly set in place at a certain point.” Casey One Hole stops. He’s said too much. Must be all the caffeine for supper.

Sister? thought Toddles. Sister!

—–

She knew this was the one. “I’m going in, Grammy. Wish me luck!”

“Hi Toddles! I’m Hucka Doobie! Grab a shovel and let’s start *digging*. We’ve got to get me away from that club!”

Oh dear, she thinks while shoveling and staring into the resulting hole at the corner of this western Canadian yard. What have I gotten myself *into*??

“Faster, faster!” the bug eyed, yellow headed bee-being who cannot dig himself commands from the side.

The ball comes. The hole is dug. Just in time.

—–

“Interesting choice.”

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November 28, 2020 · 10:07 am

Slot Mtn. Castle

She dreamed she was in a grim place. She had to get to the head before the head got to her. She saw the head, the head sawed she! Little skulls littered the cell floor. Like hers.

“I need to find you 102.”

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November 13, 2020 · 2:37 am

soon

At the top of Slot Mountain, Phillip’s head becomes bigger, anticipating a screw.

Sorry, but that’s just what he was thinking. The important thing: the mastermind behind Our Second Lyfe is here on the island; the slit acted as an attractor.

“I remember you. That Jeogeot art thing.”

“Yeah,” I replied beside him. “We’re back.” I took a breath and looked down into the slot. It all started here, I remember. On this island.

“I died (!).”

“Yup.”

“Blimey.”

His head got big again. He jumped into the slot, trying it out. Didn’t work. He jumped back up. “I so want to get this *over* with.”

“There’s only one way and you know it,” I spoke. “Begin again.”

He jumped back down. He couldn’t help himself. Longer this time. I realized what he was. Back he comes, head diminished. But the whole process is slowing down up here. “When *does* it start?” he asks at the lip. “I mean: life itself. I’m down there but I’m not down there. I’m up here as well.”

“Art,” I said. “Takes time. Building the proper receptacle.”

“A mountain, a castle,” he ritually pronounced.

He tries again, yet more successful.

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November 10, 2020 · 11:33 am

no grim

“Daaaanger,” Edwin the ghost moaned in warning. But Halloween Jack had to find out what lie ahead. The cold, the *contrast*, irresistibly drew him in.

Jack hesitated just beyond where the drab ground turned white, making his shoes wet.

What are these particles of light falling from the sky? He lets one alight on his skeletal tongue. Delicious! Frozen water, melting in the mouth almost upon touch. The ground is composed of these, he realizes. No melt this time! He tries to watch it build up around a nearby evergreen tree but doesn’t have the patience. So much to see! He marches forward, moistened feet be damned.

What’s this? A fellow sentient being? Made of the same ice?? “Hellooo!”

“Howdy!” the snowman cheerfully replied, indeed alive during the season. “Welcome to Christmas! Or thereabouts,” he tacks on. Jack smiled broadly. Sally is going to *love* it here, he thinks.

Soon they were together listening to Snowmanster play a selection of her favorite holiday tunes.

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November 10, 2020 · 9:04 am

The Inbetweeners

Tickie was getting between good friends Tealy and Tillie. He had to run away. Tenty was the logical choice for a destination, a twin brother from another.

—–

“Ground rules: *don’t* go over to Grimm unless absolutely necessary and, whatever you do, don’t go over to the Slot Mountain Castle. Death within!”

Tickie had heard about a head in a jar named Homer there who use to be a prominent resident of NWES City (*almost* NWES Town, but not quite). He wisely decided to heed the warning of host Tenty.

—–

Tickie naturally looked east for answers instead of the forbidden west (Grimm; Slot Mtn.; Slot Mtn. Castle). They were sitting in identical chairs in back now, but Tickie had gotten up: restless. “Who lives over there?” he asks about the house between the source and the lake of a blue-grey stream beyond the wooden fence.

“Oh, just one of those TILE fanatics, hence the *river*.” Tenty didn’t really like the Tilists, and thought there were too many in the area and on the island as a whole. He stated this to Tickie. He told him about the river of the world as the Before and After, or the Zero and the Nine.

“Like Zero Hero?” exclaimed Tickie, getting excited despite himself. He was a hero worshipper by nature, and Zero Hero was one of his favorites. He’d never heard of a hero called Nine, though.

“That’s Jasper,” spoke Tenty through his tentacled mouth, but in a pretty ordinary man-voice despite this, more than Tickie’s which was kind of squeaky; mouse-like. “That’s the Land of the Dead. The Egg.”

Tickie didn’t know these terms. He felt like he was getting in over his head with Tenty, who use to be a professor of religion/philosophy/games at Northwest NWES but which wasn’t there any more, a victim of the Tar Wars as they called it in scholarly-land. He turned toward Tenty. A realization occurred. They had been here before!

“Tell me about core avatars, Tenty,” he asked, knowing his friend would know a lot. His very close friend.

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November 10, 2020 · 9:03 am

grim

Should Toothpick move west to Grimm instead of east to Marwood from his starting point at the Pinemont temple owned by Master Berry? This would cause an alternate path for photo-novel 22, which I guess means the correct path for photo-novel 23. The candle tells him this.

But I don’t think this path should involve Toothpick again. Nor Master Berry, who seems to be the same as MAT (Man About Time). Hmm. Working on it…

—–

“I am alone again, Certain Death.”

“Deaths,” he corrected, staring out at his dancing brethren.

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October 10, 2020 · 9:35 am

pink and brown

The Fuhrer was furious. He glared at each in turn. “Why didn’t you *tell* me I was dead, Andy… Marilyn.

Where’s your Ross C. anyway, Andy? I need to talk to the robot from the future about the, well, *future*.” He looks out at the sea and northern part of the sacred isles. He can hear but not see the battles raging on more behind him. “*Japanese*. How *dare* they continue fighting beyond my death. The war is over!” Another plane crashes into another ship, spewing metal and glass and bodies all around. Hilter stills doesn’t turn. Andy decides to explain to him gently; bring him back to Earth in at least a virtual manner.

“Your name is Hilter, bud. This guy who’s dead in this paper, a lookalike mind you but only that, is named *Hitler*. It’s not you. You are just a man wearing a Hitler, er, Hilter costume. Halloween’s coming up, and then X-mas after that. You are merely dressed for the seasons. You have forgotten who you truly are. At the core.”

“Yes,” Marilyn breathily adds but stops there. Andy has stated the core issue and that was enough for the present. Andy Warhole is surprisingly lucid these days. Perhaps he’s finally gotten over being kidnapped by David Bowie in yet another ship, a terrifying experience that made his hair turn white.

“Why don’t we just go inside the bar and look at the girls. Maybe that’ll calm you down,” suggested the suddenly sage artist formerly known as an a-hole of a man.

—–

“*Japanese*!” Hilter starts once more. Didn’t work.

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October 6, 2020 · 8:39 am

X-man

It’s time you learned the ties of TILE to the Korean Channel, young Kola.”

“Kolya, actually,” the young man, perhaps the young apprentice corrected. He turned to the red clad guy on the mat beside him at the pit fire. “Who are you, sir — really? I know you’re Santa and all but that’s just a costume, a disguise even, if you will.”

The man dressed as Santa chuckled with this, jovial in the moment. “I will call you Pepi Kola you young jokester. See, Pepi? The sacred islands spread out before you from this viewpoint. And it has a heart, a Sacred Heart.” He now looks up in the sky, channeling a trance it seems. “Pink is still with us,” he speaks after a pause, fire crackling louder before them. “And Brown… they haven’t left this plane yet.” He stares back at the sea, at the islands, at the *center*. “Resolution.”

“Well, that’s great and all — I don’t know who this Pink or this Brown is –”

The Santa man snickers again. “Oh you will, young man — young apprentice.”

“Apprentice?” Kolya questions. He has not bought into this Santa dude’s new name for him atall, but he does likewise stare toward what he’s been told are the sacred isles, looking for a heart. He is beginning to see.

—–

“Jesus that was loud!”

“I know. And it’s just starting.” The plane flies into the ship. Pink and Brown are dead after all.

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October 6, 2020 · 8:38 am

hilltoppers 01

Sally and Jack celebrate the establishment of their Phantom Hill Horse Farm only 3 week prior to Halloween by dancing amongst the breedable horses, the colorful blue mare in background also being named Sally, as it turns out. Accident?

No one else is allowed on that property or I would check further. But at least Sally will return from Phantom Hill back into the land of the living a bit later in our tales. A person or entity named Nugent might be involved, but not Ted. I don’t think.

I must tell the story of of how Sally and Jack met at a fancy dress ball sometime. That’s actually how they became the ghoulish figures you see strutting their stuff in the picture above. Costumes they are. Outfits for core avatars to wear and then discard, normally after the end of October.

Dr. Nugent Mouse looks down from his castle next door, considering how he created these 2 misfits and what went so right about something that should have gone so wrong. And I think his first name is Ted. Ted Mouse. Teddy.

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