Category Archives: Toppsity

Judgement

Although she was still probably the 256th most craziest thing in a crazy town of 256, it was determined by the court that Yoko Ona most likely had high functioning autism. Thus the lack of facial expressions. Thus the focus on marriage as a 50-50 split. She didn’t ask for more, but she also didn’t expect less. John and she were one zygote, traveling toward a rebirth across the universe. There was nothing evil in her since she was acting logically according to this premise. It was divide and conquer to others but just separation from unity for her. The verdict: innocent for reasons just listed. She had to undergo therapy. Thus the reason for the construction of this additional floor in the Burger Joint building. Her mental health and well-being were just that important.

All the witches in the coven chipped in to pay for it, Mid-Hazel footing the largest chunk. They all showed up at the first meeting, ready to support. Prosecutor George A. was not allowed, since he would just focus on the spitting, the humiliation for blog owner Baker B. in front of a cluster of Heartsdale fisherman eager for a show. Any kind of show in that milquetoast town. Baker B. through Baker Bloch forgave her.

The elemental battle within Toppsity was just theatrics, the court also judged. Tronesisia was not dead. Most likely she would appear again, fully functional and unscathed, in the next photo-novel (21!).

Yoko Ona had already been rejected by the town, thrown head down over the wall about a 1/2 year back, only to find her way further south, in the *deep* deep south, to Cassandra City to attempt to create a roshambo triangle, one hand on top of another hand on top of another hand and so on and so on. This created the bomb.

She *had* to make up for it, reverse the powers as it were. Another zygote affair. She and John together synthesized World of Lemon to parallel Lime World (aka Linden World or Lindenwold) in order to heal Our Second Lyfe and make North and South function together again. In the other directions, World of Lemon controlled the East, Linden World the west. From *Our* Second Lyfe perspective, it all begin in Da Boom with a great boom signaling fusion and spread. From the *other* way, we have Ratzenberger as the original sim and its absorbing, black (hole) rabbit, a sucking mechanism. All this was logical and true, one begetting the other (begetting the other). The problem had not been solved because there was no problem to solve. All was good, all was balanced.

—–

I have decided to downsize in Our Second Lyfe and My Second Lyfe in particular. Corsica turned out not to be the be all end all of mainland continents, the best fusion between virtual and real, namely through the state of Pennsylvania. All this still applied, but Peakology in and of itself is not the way forward. Neither is Sinkology, although that may be closer. With this I have created the Sunklands Institute from the old Blue Feather Building of Collagesity and set it down near the middle of the Heterocera continent, its eye. I will not worry about North-South-East-West from this point on as much as *Center*. I have made stories of all mainland continents and a good number of estate regions. Corsica is essentially “covered”, along with Jeogeot, Satori/Maebaleia, Omega, Gaeta, Heterocera, Sansara, Nautilus and even Linden home masses like Nascera. I have taken Collagesity about as far as it can go. I do not make collages any more outside of the photo-novels and that context. It is time to go home. Heterocera is as close to home in Our Second Lyfe as I can get. I have to return to the source.

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2020 MORE MIDDLE”!

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Keith B.

Sacky Doll (the band) made a sudden reappearance in Toppsity 11 years later, attended by Bert Bright, best pal Bud Dimm, and best gal pal Abby [delete name]. Since all 3 knew the band members, they were also invited to the rehearsal, but only Sun showed up, announcing himself by saying he was between a Moon and a Star(r). He was egotistical and self-centered in that way, flying too close to himself perhaps, with a fall likely anytime soon. But who was this Sun? No one in the crowd seemed to know him.

“New drummer,” responded Bert Bright to the sight on stage.

“Same as the old drummer,” amended Bud Dimm, innate facial recognition kicking in to make up for lack of brains.

“He *is* old,” added Abby, trying to decide all night between the two of them. Like black and white pillars they were around a central heating system.

“Bert, Abby, Bud, would you come up here on stage? I want to share a secret with you.”

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Duke Duck

The fires were finally going out in the Toppsity area, but Gabby would not let brother Amos die in Vain. Never mind that he died in that field next to his house over there across the road. Images of Amos’ beloved Sacky Doll started popping up here and there around the town, starting with a trickle and ending with a flood thanks to Gabby’s friend Marilyn, who was helping out again the way she could. The good witches were working above and beyond the bad ones. White had displaced black at the top of the totem. Cat balance had been restored, or was being restored. Dogs go home — bad dog, bad dog! The Dead had become a Danger again.

Speaking of Cassandra City…

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07 01

“Today, class, we’re going to talk about a historic event that happened right here in Toppsity. It was 11 years ago. No doubt many of you remember what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, I know Mrs. Orchardsity. Was it — The War?” Abigail always wanted to be the first to guess one of Mrs. Orchardsity’s queries. Most often she was wrong, like this time.

“No Abby,” — for that’s what she wished to be called now. Abigail was too formal, and she told the teacher and other students at the beginning of the semester this in no uncertain terms. “The War was further back in time. 1873-1874.” Catalina Orchardsity knew that it was really 1873-1873 but tacking on that extra year sounded better to the ears. Catalina Orchardsity was not a strickly “go by the rules” teacher. She bent the rules. She bent history a bit too. Because she knew it was malleable in the first place. Her ultimate goal was to eliminate The War altogether. Stretch it out in time until it was too thin to exist. Right not it sat fatly in the middle of 1873. She knew it had to start moving in order to loose weight, loose significance in time. This is what the coven taught her.

Bert Bright who always sat up front, second chair from the left next to his best bud Bud Dimm (2nd cousin to Dimmy Gene who we’ve already met in this here photo-novel), spoke up. “The Witch Trials.”

“Precisely, Bert…”

“I was going to say that,” grumbled Bud Dimm to his side. He always muttered this to one of Bert’s bright answers.

“Now, now, Bud. You know Bert is *much* smarter than you. Take it like the little man you are. Chin up!”

Bud raised his chin up. He liked being reinforced that he was much dumber than Bert; gave him an excuse for his lack of answers. He was satisfied with the brain that life had provided him and wanted no further advance in society than a low paying, menial job. He had been taught well.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0701, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Toppsity

review

Cassandra City still holds promise but probably not for this here current photo-novel. Baker Bloch must take his leave, rented apartment in town unused. Big Dick, a Phil actually, waits patiently in the corner of his hotel lobby, looking forward to more communication through the aether.

—–

Story possibilities in Heartsdale, a major driver early on in photo-novel 20, have most likely been exhausted as well. Let’s return there for a similar, final shot: Baker Bloch in front of Small Wood posing with Teddy, a black and white horse owned by an avatar named Zero.

Both glimpse Philip Strevor through a broken gate to the sidewalk. Strangely, the duplicate Yoko Ona that also walked around this particular Heartsdale block is gone now. Yoko as a whole has probably moved on from this sim.

—–

There seems to be more in Iris, a place to be focused on still. For example, there’s a kind of, um, inexplicable “hole” in the center of the 4-5 sim region owned by [delete name], who may actually, in Real Life, be [delete word]. If so, *Crooked* seems to be a link. The prominence of the Moth Temple seen in the background here, the “eye” of the whole Heterocera continent, could play a role in the hypothetical overshadowing of this mystery spot.

—–

Toppsity? I’m not sure what took place in the trial of Yoko Ona. We *know* that she spat on Baker Bloch when he tried to turn her right-side up from upside down while both were fishing in Heartsdale Bay, the last Heartsdale related post in this here photo-novel actually. You don’t spit on the chief avatar of a blog, the one the owner most identifies with, and get away with it — at least in the blog itself, where we still are last time I checked. (pause) Yes, I just checked. We are still in the blog.

But the witches of her coven eliminated original judge Tronesisia: drowned, with a possible saving ship arriving too late in the early afternoon after the late morning accident. Then the several witnesses we know of — Miss Raincoat (aka Sammy Whatammy), Uncle Stinky, and probably Crayola as well (aka Tammy Whatammy?) — have all been linked to maleficent forces too. Wait, let me check that again. (pause) Uncle Stinky has *not* been associated with such forces. He still can be used by the prosecutor George A., who we’ve not talked about since that particular post either. So we should return to Toppsity and finish the trial. Defendant Yoko Ona may be called to the stand herself. *That* could be interesting.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0614, Cassandra City, Heartsdale^^, Heterocera^^, Iris^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Toppsity

Hawaiian Punched

I suppose it all started when Blutus tried to cross the road to get to the other side. He never made it; run over by a blue-black car of dubious design and specs, unmarked all the way from bumper to fender. He’d just made a call to the police. He had the information they needed to solve the puzzle of a case they were facing head on. Just on his way over he was to make his report. When this happened, *SPLAT*. They never really got the blue-purple blood off the pavement, a permanent testimony of sorts to the stain and strain (and drain) this put on the town. Toppsity was never the same. This is where it started most likely. The War.

Elements were involved of course; when weren’t they in conflicts involving Toppsity and covens in general. The fires that ultimately consumed Gabby’s brother Amos Truth and prevented him from regenerating one more time were put out by Marilyn’s Niagara waterfall tumbling and roaring over the western ridge. Earth moved north to south and consumed sign posts and everything underneath that level. The Ministry of Soiled Clothes was set up near the laundromat. Air and leaves and air through leaves crowded around and basically enclosed innocent residents in their harmless apartment units over here and just there, like insidious kudzu. Aether had split the scene, unable to fit in anywhere. Spirit was gone, spirits were low. People were taking uppers everywhere just to try to reach the surface of the soil and not be taken under. Reds and yellows were shot most of the day to decrease pervasive dopamine and increase lacking serotonin. Toppsity was in a state. Maybe Utah (or Indiana (or Pennsylvania)). Where’s those string beans?

Sacky doll waited for his master to come home again but it never happened. Amos was gone from this world.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0601, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Toppsity

Toppsity Stargate

“Another one coming through the portal, mum. Iris-Beach again.”

“Queer. The third one in three days from that location.” Ever-sister ponders the significance of this triple manifestation. “Better alert the witches.” The Tronesisia problem has been removed, she considers. But more trouble could be brewing. Three is always the sign of a rival coven.

The crushed can transferred over with a clank clankity clank landing. Coke this time. Sprite, Mountainy Dew, Coke. There can be no doubt.

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Wheel of Unfortune

Tronesisia was dead. How could 72 windows in an underwater train break at once? Kevin A. Orchardsity pondered from a couch in a Toppsity boutique he was shopping for clothes at. But he knew none of them would fit as well as his READ outfit, the one given to him by Umbrella. Or something. He *could* testify against Yoko Ona himself. He knew about Paperville; he had important evidence to provide for the trial. Black witch indeed, too late to save from drowning. Because that had already happened to Judge Tronesisia. Shame. He was hoping to ask her for a favor down the road — when his own trial came up. Maybe it won’t happen now. Maybe he can strike a deal with the information he has at hand. Paper covers rock, true, but scissors cuts paper as everyone also knows. So as long as rock is out of the way — and it is (Tronesisia was dead) — he might be okay in the long run. He could turn that waterfall of a mouth Gabby Truth in.

“Cut!” shouted the man behind the camera. “That was great, Stanley. Now one more take, and this time cover the first letter, people. We want this to be a clear A B C/1 2 3 situation. Kevin Orchardsity would appreciate that.”

—–

Tronesisia was dead. How could 72…

“Cut cut cut,” interrupted Penn Mann, checking the new angle in the monitor.

—–

“Okay, one more time.” This will have to do, the famed director thinks to himself, wishing now he would have hired a less buff actor than Stanley K. for the role.

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What’s in a name?

Like this dude, he wished his brother had had a funeral with a fine coffin and many flower arrangements spread about to honor him.

The fact that he didn’t (the mass grave again) came to be laid at the feet of a certain person for Gabby. The wrong one. This was witchery as well.

“Get her,” he spoke back to Marilyn, looking at the wrong side of the name and the trees still burning beyond.

“I’ll (*coo*), *try.*”

—–

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elementary

They had to walk and it took them a long time. Finally they reached what was considered by many the northernmost city of Maebaleia’s Deep South. Or Satori I guess I should say, since the North won the 3 1/2 day war (Real Time). I think. Depends on which way the black hole spins for ya I suppose. For me it was retrograde, which means…

“Gabby,” Amos Truth rasps from within the cell. It had been 20 weeks (2 1/2 weeks Real Time) since the last fire. Gabby thought he would be through it all by this point. Usually is. 6 times this has happened, he thinks, staring at his burnt crisp of a brother. “Gabby,” he sputtered again in that sickly, smokey hiss. “I want you to — do — me, a — favor.” He then paused; Gabby leaned in to hear better. “Anything brother of mine. Do you want me to kill the person who did this to you? Can I *finally* do that? I can’t stand to see you this way.”

“Gabby,” he coughed and wheezed again. “I want you to…”

Amos Truth died that day in the no. 3 cell of the Toppsity Police Department. No revival would happen this time. The pain had gone on too long.

I can’t fight fire with fire with these *witches*,” Gabby seethed afterwards, watching them cart the remains of his brother away from the station and toward the mass grave out next to the old Wal Mart off Route 8. “I’ll have to drown them instead.”

He knew he’d have to see Marilyn next. Mrs. Niagara.

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