He woke up the next morning to find this basically blocking the way between his new house and his old spherical rocket ship he intended to use to fly down to the city and scout out the place. A coffin, he realized after a pause. He noted that it was held up by a kind of teapot shaped object which he didn’t recognize immediately as a water faucet. His plan of world domination was in jeopardy. The originator of Pan-Z had arrived.
He sat on a plywood cube he’d rezzed underneath a blossoming cherry tree behind it — Apples only spotted him after first seeing the coffin, the “teapot”, the tree, the cube. The coffin made a diagonal between him and his green colored nemesis. Appropriate.
Apples could barely make out the tiny voice when he announced himself, but thought it sounded like, “I believe you have something I want,” which would make sense in the moment. The two entities representing the forces of Pot-D and Pan-Z had come face to face at last. Spore was threatening Apples with death if he didn’t get what he desired.
Apples’ senses were finally waking up. He sniffed the air. Someone or something was inside. Rotting.
“That person inside is *you*.” Clear as a bell now.
Before she left the double peaked mountain, she said goodbye to next door neighbor Oranges, who you may remember as Appleyon from our last photo-novel. He’s switched sides: he lives on the east part of the west side of the double peaked mountains. There’s significance there. Apples and Oranges in one basket.
“I — have… nowhere to go!” she cries between sobs, hoping for the obvious. She knew Oranges had fancied her for the longest time. She’s playing her final card.
Oranges looks on, slightly sympathetic but mostly amused. He offers her a drink from his demonic vending machine blocking the nice view down the mountaintop. “Jedi tea?” he says over. “It might help to cheer you up, Pumpkin.” It was an old game they played with these names, always (an) orange (object) for the green one and green for the orange one. “Okay, Lemmie.” She couldn’t help herself and changed a sob to a giggle in the moment. But he had no intention of letting her stay. Or did he? It was a Somerset dilemma. Another one.
Apples’ plan hatched next door was working perfectly. Or was it? He stares at the teapot hoping for an answer that never came.
Maybe he should ask the apple tree suddenly appearing outside instead.
“Well well well. What do we have here?”
“I can’t steer this thing at all!” purple alien Apples thought while struggling to land his spherical craft amidst the cherry trees atop the western half of Somerset’s Double Mountains.
He walks into his new base, carefully avoiding a rickity looking, boarded up pump well. It’s the little things that often end those of his type, he’s wisely learned down through the centuries. Don’t show off, don’t take chances. Focus laser-like on the task at hand: world domination, ha ha ha.
Apples Too waits pensively at the window.
“Heck of a year so far, eh Apples?” he speaks over. But she had nothing to say, since she knew he felt she was responsible for most of it. Apples was here to take over. Apples Too to her but not to him. Not any more.
“*Now*. Let’s discuss what’s happened since I last saw you.”
Goss is a village in Monroe County, Missouri, United States; it was once incorporated as a town, but reclassified as a village in 2010. The village has no permanent residents, and it is the least populous town in the United States.
“Yes I should have studied your “Northfork” sync more. Yes I realized I passed up the opportunity because it wasn’t polished and I preferred polish, like my…”
“Don’t say it,” I replied. “Polish is good enough.
It’s a 16 year old collage after all.”
“I should have clapped at it. There.”
“I’ll have more to say later with you.”
Crack reporter Tulsa’s headlining newspaper article for the NWES Gazette turned out to be laughable. Carrcassonnee was not dead; Gill Alex made sure of that. Overnight, he established Collagesity’s Temple of TILE in Marwood along with reassembling the great olive being’s 6 body pieces back together, with the 7th, eye, being worked on. Once that’s done, it’s done! The 7th is always tricky but I’m sure he’ll manage it. After all, this is the former Little Robert Plant Variant we’re talking about here, who was from quite nearby Nowtown which destroyed even closer, neighboring Zen City with an atomic bomb called the Tall Cool One, elsewhere: Kevin. I can’t make this stuff up. It happened! But that is zen and this was now. Um.
In fact I have an old map of Jeogeot to help prove all this, showing the position of Nowtown and Zen City on what’s called The Claw of the continent, with the sprawling NWES metropolis forming a number of years later just NW of Zen City. There may even be some past-present overlap between the two. And to make things even stranger, the old city of Sternberg also marked on this map is now the site of NWES City’s parallel, somewhat smaller sister burg centered in the Xenosaur sim. Our Second Lyfe still produces quite amazing coincidences! And to add even more, Sternberg was where Little Robert Plant Variant gave up his tube, but I jump ahead of myself too far. We first have to understand why Page didn’t go along with the Sunklands Initiative at the time, unwilling to disengage from the, by now, radioactive Zeppelin brand. Plant, both 16 and 59 at once, worked alone after that.
Carrcasssonnee: almost ready to speak again.
“To be clear, Hucka Doobie, the paint brush sign for this Little Art House contains no green. Red, blue, and yellow, to be true. But green is gray or colorless, just like in…”
“… The Red Umbrella?” guesses Hucka Doobie correctly. “61 rr crossing 49; I suppose you’re right. But who… you go.”
“But who will play Lu Ellen? Someone, obviously, with a red hat or cap. Doesn’t have to be *that* cap; (simple) red will do.”
“She’ll have to be human as well,” adds Hucka Doobie still standing below the green-less sign. “What I mean is that at least outwardly she’ll appear as wholly human. It’s only the difference between here (Hucka Doobie grabs her breast) and here (Hucka Doobie grabs lower) that matters now. Then *this* happens.”
“You know who it has to be,” states Baker Bloch, looking over at his old friend the bee-person.
“Well. She *is* still living here. With her brother/lover. Might as well put her to work. Make her grean again.”
After the funeral, the frog cousins crashed at Lu Ellen’s place just beyond the lower edge of Apple’s Orchard before moving into NWES proper. She was quickly indoctrinated into and made new leader of their Red Squirt Seven group, now headless since Melvin was dead. Melville “Peepee” Todd, that is, who also happened to be Lu Ellen’s father. They were all bound and determined, by blood and guts, to find the murderer: fellow cousin Bullfrog. Each spawned from a different sibling of the same family. And 3 of the 4 bound by a belief larger than family that happened to include family. A return to ORDER.
As new head, Lu Ellen tried to instruct the simple frogs as best she could. Yes, homosexuality was a sin in the sight of God and, yes, they were right to intervene, even though it cost them her father, their old head, their brains. Tough guy Kermit Winkler, simplest of the bunch, equals hands in this manner, perhaps health. Tough but warmer Lester equals heart, I suppose. And girl child Lu Ellen was there to lead them all back home. To sanity. To purity.
The irony is that she’s (almost) human, like Marilyn of “The Munsters.” Not that frogs are monsters, but you get the general point. She elected to be this way, to fit in better with the world at large, with costly procedures representing stepping stones from amphibian to homo sapien existence. And now that process is almost completed. Just one more operation. And then *this* happens.
(to be continued?)