She closed the door but dare not look around.
The swamp tree.
Category Archives: Wild West
death
“What did *you* see Mr., um, *Head* (snicker).” She wasn’t going to dig this dude out as well. Write it off as a lost cause, she figures as he automatically starts her worthless, chat received fortune. “You will find a sock you thought you’d never find.” Hmm, maybe not so worthless after all, if sock equals key. And it probably does. Still not digging him out.
She moves to the house. Coke machine still there, as Billy Dancer reported before getting stuck. Chef-inspector Petty gone — must have either crawled off or the body disposed of by Billy. She only mentions the supposed killing, the bloodless slashing of the dummy’s throat. The old boss dug short and succinct like that; wanted to rack up the cases instead of going over the nuances of each individual one. New boss was different. Not the same as the old boss, as The Who famously sang about. Or maybe they are, she pondered further. Wanda and Sykes: different in their own nuances. But it’s all still about numbers, the bottom line, no matter what Sykes promised at first. Maybe she’d be asked to pare it down as well. Probably, hmph. She’s already starting to resent the new hire, even if it’s all in her head.
Joey moves upstairs. The computer Billy also briefly mentioned still plugged in, still given the blue screen of death (BSOD). Those people we, the readers, saw before around it near the beginning of this section, Frank Pinocchio and Fay Blue: gone. Just like the chef-inspector.
Next room; low voice:
“Yeah, she’s about to come in here and discover her dreaming self and wake up. Better amscray.”
Voice demanding something on the other side. “Okay, okay, I’ll bring the body as well. No waking self.”
The voice on the other side seemed to repeat the same thing although it was hard to tell from a distance.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0116, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West
key lost again
One of the oldest tricks in the book, she thought from her observing position. Lure ’em down to the beach with a piece of watermelon, then, BLAMO, instant terrain change in the shifting sand to trap them up to their motherlicking balls, she’d always heard the expression. Or at least knees in this case — enough to do the job. She saw she could still dance the bill but it must be hard in the grainy resistance. Old habits die hard as they also say.
Time for another agent to take over from this obviously inept one. Another *Venusian*. Welcome back Joey Avatar. Digging the purple hair.
She dug her out and then sent her packing, even taking her badge. We’ll continue this obviously important story soon.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0115, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West
00320114
She came in on a ship bound from Wommington (island), this belle of the billy dance, tradition over there. Navel motions they called it during acts of war. Wommington had fought Constance (another island) but dare not directly attack Long (yet another island but bigger — bigger in a longer if not wider way). Subterfuge was the answer. And positioning on Jourdain-Benvolia (another island similar in size to Wommington and Constance) nearest to Long (see above) and, especially, Capitol Hill, one of the high points of the island and a popular tourist attraction during season. As we’ve seen, atop Capitol Hill rests the old gypsy wagon with the flying key inside a cage, unable to get out because of its self-enclosed nature. Then just outside this, another cage, another trapped *thing* (thankfully!), Democrats ruling for now. So Capitol Hill represented a pivotal spot.
As the sun came up, she turned away from it and acted like she didn’t want to have anything to do with the small, caravan topped summit. All was good over there, she pretended to anyone who was looking on, which she imagined were at least several, and perhaps one or two spies amongst them. She couldn’t take any chances.
She carefully avoided the rocks that guarded the opposite beach like anti-tank obstacles. So many lost already! Like that bigger one over there perched high in the air and later transformed into several apartments for the Jourdainian rich and trendy, second or third or even fourth homes most likely, often purchased just to show up those poor, lowly Benvolians that they’d always be attached to by that cursed little isthmus strip of land. If only our God had remembered to cut the cord from those *babies*, they lamented about the tag along, more undeveloped eastern side of their joined landmasses. They looked down on them fer sure.
Somehow making it through all that crap and pulling up on the beach, she spots Chef-inspector Petty still studying the prize he received from the otherwise empty coke can days and days ago, because time was frozen here. Strangely shaped, gold: a key in one word. 319 he knew. Triangle. He stuck the key in his pocket to go along with his (paper) pills and threw the empty coke can on the floor after crushing it with his free hand. The billy dancer looked on, thinking she had found the answer. She moved swiftly. Petty was on the floor with a slit throat in a second, a seeming mortal blow. The belle took the key. Now to find the proper door.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0114, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West
investigations continue
Blue Rose Thorn is at it again, stopping at Escanes this time in the Wild West’s Long Islands. Check out the sign: “YES… WE CAN!” Es… can(es) again you’ll notice. Democrats as well, since this is Obama’s presidential slogan. It’s all about symbols this go around. Signs.
Blue Rose Thorn writes down what he’s found in a local beauty spot before moving on.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0103, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West
00320102
He wondered why he was drawn to this place, this coke machine. Then he heard the people upstairs.
“What does it say now?”
“Hmm, still no good. The Oracle simply isn’t going to reboot.”
“What now?” It was a good, solid question from Frank Pinocchio. They *had* to have the Oracle going, or else.
“We can reboot to an earlier time from the backup files. Say, just before Christmas.” She checks the list; she checks it twice. “That looks like the latest we can do.” Fay steps back, crosses her arms, still staring at the oh so blue screen. This be no occident. This was the work of a nefarious agent.
Bingo, thinks Chef-inspector Petty downstairs, retrieving an empty coke from the dispenser and finding a prize inside.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0102, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West
Capitol Hill
I found the key but I can’t get to it.
But neither can he, hehe.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0101, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West
Z to A (257)
Retirement presents all around; manual: done.
We begin again, *tired* but then fresh and newborn.
“Tiinaaaaa!”
END OF “SUNKLANDS 2022-2021 WINTER”!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0616, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West
head regained
Carla covered her ears, sick of hearing the booms. It’s just as loud over here as back on the beach! she complains within.
White clad Morna beside her had bigger problems. She was about to be cast into the sea with the sharks by Peggy. Peggy didn’t want to hear no shit about Baker Bloch Marty Uncle Albert being a prevert, despite being the reason for Zizzy of the Ditzy and Zizzy duo to be shipped off to Camp Umbrella next to the Crisp Sea, or so she said. Now there was yellow between and a new element involved — more balance.
3rd eye. Triangle.
—–
“Let’s stop here, Baker, and contemplate what we just wrote.”
“W.”
“In the flesh!”
—-
We return to ring woman and the generation of it.
We are about to go up the path to see what’s over the hill, monsters left behind in the dust. 2:23 soon, tick tick tick.
How about that records management manual now?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0614, collages 2d, Collagesity Fordham-, Falmouth, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West
Sunklands 