Category Archives: Slaashsides

Lemon Cove

“I’ve been betrayed? By a *triangle*??”

“I can explain.”

—–

He often thought of that day he found Elvira with a shape. Three corners and the truth, he knew after that. So far did he run to square and the extra corner that he didn’t have time to stop. Until today. Decision. The portal would be open again to New Mexico: 7:15 this morning. He could take his bike and just ride ride ride, never looking back. Stupid second world, he thought and almost spat on the ground, at least imagined it. The powers that be had a plan. He would blend in with a pack of choppers heading south from Los Lunas, become part of the pack itself. “Do whatever you have to to accomplish this important important mission,” spoke his most immediate boss. And so he found Nikki at Silver City when the rowdies that had been hounding him since almost the beginning finally and completely dropped away (siren calls just here there and there), rode alongside her until the Shakespearean end. He didn’t plan to fall in love on the other side but love happens, as they say. Yeah, he also thought of the triangle as he made his plans for the future with her, used that negative energy to propel himself away away away from Burro Alley and the possibility of return.

He sat here like a lifeguard on that fated day, actually imagining blonde Nikki from the future before (and below) him. Across the namesake cove, not quite in the corner but getting there: the 4th, the future — without Elvira, Our Second Lyfe, his triangle of bratty kids, pheh. “Elvira can take care of them,” he said aloud, still staring down at the form that had taken shape. “They all take after her anyway; best that like stays with like.” He refused to see his own brattiness, the bully that he’d become in his negative thinking about this that and that. So if Nikki likewise betrayed him… well, it won’t end pretty.

“How pretty,” he said, oblivious to this possibility.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0212, Nautilus, New Mexico, North, Slaashsides

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When he shot out of the 1st to 2nd life portal known as Burro Alley, Santa Fe, New Mexico at 9:34 Mountain Time on Sunday, March 5th, 2023, he had a good idea this would be his last trip to reality reality. He’d prepared for this moment, said goodbye, in effect, to the virtual wife and kids — if it came to that. Because he didn’t intend to go back to playing second fiddle in a second life devoid of 3 of the 5 major senses, subtract psychic, which was in fact stronger over there. He cherished feeling the bumps in the brick pavement of the alley, loved the smell of fresh bread coming from the Burro Alley Cafe beside the stick laden burro statue at the entrance, reveled in the taste of their fish tacos for breakfast, dinner and sometimes lunch, if fish burritos, which he didn’t like as much, weren’t substituted on the menu.

—–

“The plot deepens.”

“Or thickens,” Hucka D. responds, taking another gander at the photo Barry’d produced from a facebook page on the ghost town. Can-can girls in Shakespeare, the past come to life. Both knew this was an important clue. They’d just produced the word “cancan” in a collage created by folding up the back of a 1923 German dance recital poster found in Hal’s saloon near the center of the resurrected village. Or altered village is perhaps a better way to put it, since both dead and alive versions are just as real as the other. Featured Isadora (or Isadore) Duncan and her daughter Irma, joined at the hip now through the collage fresh as a wet drink produced for a condemned bully whose throat was bone dry from defending himself and saying other locals had perpetrated much more heinous crimes. Didn’t work: hanged in the Grant Hotel Dining Room alongside a cattle rustler. Could have been Barry and Hucka’s fate as well except it wasn’t.

“And the Hills buried on a hill (above the town formerly known as Grant in a county formerly part of Grant). Don’t forget that — fits in with Grant Hill, who drinks sprite, both lemon and lime together to produce something not quite as good as either separately.”

“Another one to wet the whistle.”

“Yess.”

—–

The dog burrows deeper.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0211, Nautilus, New Mexico, North, Slaashsides

00370203

“I’ve *been* here for 2 weeks,” complained Johnny Cage, tiring of the assignment in Slaashsides. He was ready to get back home to his wife Elvira and kids Lester, Luke and Leonard Jay (Leno). But the problem was: Barry DeBoy was a quick healer, a *real* quick healer — like he stood outside of time or something (as his supervisor exasperatedly explained over the phone to him) — and that he may be needed for another one of those “accidents” again.

“We need you to stay close to that New Mexico portal,” he said. “That’s the only way we know how still to reach him. Work on your biking, work on your *bike*,” he suggested. “Slaashsides is fairly big — about a 1/2 sim as I recall. Just ride around and around, check your tires, check your gears, handle, seat — *everything*. Just don’t go groundside yet. And that’s an order, John, from the guys and gals upstairs that pay *both* our salaries and bonuses. You got a big bump recently. Don’t screw all this up. You need to start thinking about your pension — the future. Think of little Leno.”

The stinky green pocketbook displayed on the side of the news stand was starting to get overwhelming. “Listen, I have to go,” spoke Johnny Cage. “I’ll do what you said. I’ll keep them happy. But either get me back to New Mexico or get me back home pretty quickly. I can’t stand these halfway places, neither here nor there.” And with this he hung up the receiver, rather slammed it back in the carriage really, and walked up the sidewalk and turned left again. Back to Burro Alley, pheh.

10 days, he determined while treading carefully on its slicker surface — not daring to hurt himself as he would hurt others. That’s all I’m going to put up with it.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0203, Nautilus, New Mexico, North, Slaashsides

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Janice spots a 15 speed bicycle hanging on an apartment wall upon exiting the Slaashsides subway, first of a succession of bad signs…

The stinking green pocketbook is still there, check.

So is Burro Alley.

—–

Johnny’d come back from a serious bike trek. He needed to replenish.

“New Mexico, pheh,” he mutters while gobbling.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0107, Nautilus, New Mexico, North, Slaashsides

Redrüm again

Let’s see, I’ve done a blue dress and a red dress. How about a purple one this time.

A purple cube manifests in the room as sewing Wheeler Wilson thought this. The door opened. Showtime.

—–

“This cat’s ears are soo soft (!).”

“Ma’am — or sir — I hate to rush you but the show’s about to start. Do you want to check in your overcoat or not?” She indicated the indicated sign with the hand and all, warning that the establishment would not be responsible for hats and coats unless checked in at the front.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” She could feel his eyes bore into her back and side. Her *real* son. At long long last. She was actually frozen with indecision. And because she was a chaos object, everything else in the place froze along with her — oops, there goes Doris, not asking questions any longer, not pattering her fingers impatiently on the counter. 7:21PM. Son Cory’s shoulders also move for the last time in the recognition. Mother.

Spade tattooed bartender Sarah escaped with her gum *just* in the nick of time, but heart tattooed assistant Rosalyn didn’t make it. A bit too red herself, I suppose.

—–

Alright Jackie. Explain to me *one* more time about how you escaped the crematorium? And where’s Don?”

“Burt. His name was Burt.”

“*Was*? So… he’s dead. He did his duty.”

“Yes. I guess.” She started crying. “I don’t know.”

“And the rooooocckks??” They were the most important thing for Officer Davis Jefferson, the most complete bastard of a guy on the town’s force, ever in pursuit of the notorious Black Lake Gang and his one-to-one ultimate archrival Brutus, who also goes by Ted. Curious: So close to Burt; just rearrange the beginning letters a tad, a pinch, after dropping off the US. And where were we? Back on Nautilus? It might be so, although the map says Maebaelia. We’ll coordinate and synchronize asap.

Better stop questioning the dangerous bitch and handcuff her, Jefferson thinks here. Haul her unfried ass back to hq.

It wasn’t Brutus but it was a pretty satisfying arrest nonetheless. Might get him a promotion to sgt., even, which would be bad for everybody, the law, law abiding citizens, and crinimals all.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0412, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus, North, Slaashsides

Bonnie &

“Your dog’s standing on my foot, right?”

“Hand it over!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0608, Nautilus, North, Slaashsides

fish head (YES MAYBE NO)

“Who is she?” he asked, heart still thumping from all the excitement.

“Goes by Helen.”

Helen, Guy pondered. Like Troy. Destroyer of Men.

Time to reset to Zero.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0209, Nautilus, North, Slaashsides

controller (one nautilus is all nautilus)

“As you can see, young man, my black piece — the bishop I believe, unless it’s the rook — is turning into a white piece. This is how I propose to win the game.”

“Forfeit?” I guessed, knowing the overwhelming odds against him.

“Hardly. Look at your hands.”

“W-what the??”

“Your — move.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0208, Nautilus, North, Slaashsides

It started with an outline, then filling in the details which continues.

“Where are we on the map, Baker B.? It’s very important we keep up with the map. We’ve come soo far.”

“Let’s see.” Alter.

“We’ve just found out that Elvira, you know, the aunt of Mrs. Ordinary who lives up in Chapel Vile over on the Corsica continent…”

“Yes?”

“She lives at or near Terriergate, the art gallery in Terriergate. This would be on the very western tip of the Lower Austra peninsula, maybe putting it in the Wild West category instead. You see (W.), I’m having a hard time still dividing the regions of the Nautilus continent up.”

“Do you think the elimination of Collagesity would help?” I waited for more and it didn’t come.

“What do *you* think?” I ventured in the gap. Nothing still.

—–

“A spirit is summoned by a witch in Spirit Witch,” I declared.

“Start there,” a faint voice comes from the darkness in the distance.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0307, Collagesity Fordham, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Rim Isles, Rooster's Peninsula, Slaashsides, Southwestern, Upper Austra^, Wild West

00310302

“Busted!” police agents Crack and Whack shouted after they broke down the door, leaving Greg Ogden in pieces. No longer would he be known as the artist of the “Monolith…”, history conveniently rewritten. All he had left afterwards was cartoons, sunrise to sunset, Sam and the rest. One day he picked up a watermelon and threw it out the window into the woods and then went there, finding a triangle. He approached cautiously…

“Is the camera on?”

He looked over at the illuminating glow. “Yes I think so, mum.” They settled into their cue spots, got into character. Annnnnd ACTION.

“The *thing* is,” Crystal’s replacement Methany began, emphasizing a different word this take just to spice, er, things up, “I was looking in the wrong triangle before. *This* is the triangle. Where Baker Bloch was born — this island.”

“Rodeo, yes mum,” said Carl, his first line in this scene. No relationship to Karl that I know of, although both seem to be bartenders. His character knew this was Baker Bloch instead of Wheeler Wilson before him, and that dark had switch to light, camera rolling. Thus the white hair, the white script, everything. She *was* the triangle.

Someone’s trapped in the art!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0302, Nautilus, New Island^, North, Omega^^, Paper, Paper Soap, Sansara, Slaashsides, Wild West