Laffoon 02

“Volcano island, Indigo. That must be Zebrasil.” Ruby paused. “Or is it Ichelus? Anyway, there’s also these 10 women whose disappearance is associated with 2 more sims: Sylvata and, let’s see, Ribeata. According to this ‘Mole Times’ front page article here at least. So we’ve already found stuff.”

“OMG.” First of many. Ruby doesn’t like spiders. Or tentacles.

“Interesting. But what does it mean?” (exploding washer)

“At least it warmed up the place,” groused Indigo. “For a split second.” She shivers again.

—–

End of Laffoon here, Indigo. And please keep up if you will.”

—–

“More passages to the side before the crossover, though.”

“I’m here,” declares Indigo.

Ruby stares at the southward tableau. “Oil leak. Oil well… ink well. Ink leak. Dimensional rift? Let’s go see.”

—–

“UUGH, Indigo. Giant pink frog!”

“I might throw up, Ruby. That stench!”

“And more lockers. Let’s just throw them all open at once this time.”

Indigo moves toward the wall and vomits.

—–

“Sorry about that, Indigo. The santa hat may indicate recent activity, since this is Christmas season. That’s all I’ve got here.”

“Let’s get out of here, then.”

Their attention shifts northward. They walk to the other end of the corridor. Indigo immediately felt better after leaving behind the frog.

—–

“OMG, Ruby. A club. *Casey’s* club.”

“You put that there,” Ruby accused.

“I put that there,” quickly admits Indigo.

“Stop doing that. This is serious.”

“Okay.” Indigo puts on her best “serious” face, making Ruby sigh and shake her head. “*Anyway* we’re moving out of Laffoon again now.” She boldly strides forward through the danger sign…

“More lockers.”

“Big surprise,” asserts Indigo, thinking of some other joke item she could rez.

“A *dead* parrot this time.”

“Another jack pumpkin head and another santa hat (not pictured)… combo of two holidays that don’t mesh well together — I should know. Being Mrs. Claus and all.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“Ahh. *Finally* Indigo. The mystery is starting to come into focus. Serial killer! Bible must equal code, as in a code to crack. We’ll take these 2 items with us back to Collagesity.”

Then Ruby spots something else: a noxious looking puddle. Leaking from the other side.

“Ummm… *In*digo…”

“O-M-G.” They should have never left the laughs and guffaws of Laffoon.

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Filed under *Second Life, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island, The Cross

Laffoon 01

“So here we are finally, Indigo. Laffoon. Washing machines…

… and passageways.”

“Rest up, bestest friend of mine. Because we’ve got a big night ahead of us.”

“See what I mean?”

“I’m not looking at that.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island, The Cross

dirt

“See, sister of mine? This is where I turn green. This could be the center of it all. This could be the well.”

“Then: me.”

—–

“Who is this inky man coming up the muddy road to see me, then?”

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Filed under *Second Life, Mountain Lake, The Cross

snow

“It’s so clean and white here, Morris. I’m glad this is the place you decided to wake up in.”

“Sorry you missed your meeting, Lou.”

“Oh well.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Mountain Lake

Race

“Stop *staring* at the man, Baker Bloch thought about Horace Wise. It’s like he’s never seen a black person before.

“So,” Duncan began, obviously conscious of the riveting gaze, “looks like we’ll have to start without our Mountain Lake representative Ms. Well.”

“A *wo*-man,” spoke Horace Wise incredulously from his side. “I think not. We already have [delete rest of sentence].”

Baker Bloch breathed deeply. Looking at him, Duncan decided to jump in first. “First of all, we’re African-*Americans*. Just like you Horace.”

Horace Wise finally broke his stare, sighed, and waved his arms around in despair. “The Virtual Chel-sea Hotel, the finest building, most likely, in this whole, wide conti-nent. Represented by *you*.”

Alright, that’s it Horace,” states Baker Bloch angrily. “I’m evoking class *5* status by rights of being the *author* of this novel — a *Collagesity* novel, after all — and saying that your Philo is disqualified, disqualified, *disqualified* from the race for the treasure. Now — *get out*. It will be between me, *Duncan* here — a man like yourself, thankfully, or I don’t know *what* you’d call him — and then Lou, our representative apparently from the Mountain Lake region of the Omega continent.” In his rage, he left out the remaining candidate at the table: Teepot’s Jeffrie Phillips.

But Horace Wise didn’t leave immediately. “You’re taking all this serious-ly. The” — he looks over at Duncan — “*black* man here. Then a woman. *Wo*-man.”

“Yes!!” Baker Bloch’s yell could probably be heard all the way over to Horace’s hometown.

And this is probably what a lot of people were like back then. And could still be. Yes, probably were around in good numbers still. Philo is *history*, but history repeats.

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Filed under *Second Life, Mountain Lake, Myron, Rubi, Teepot, VHC City

Providence too

“I assume you’re here about the treasure hunt,” spoke Collagesity representative Baker Bloch to the stranger sitting beside him, breaking the awkward silence.

“Y-es,” proclaimed Horace Wise in a surprisingly stilted voice (to Baker). “We think we have what it takes in Philo to complete the task — wrap everything up neat and nice-ly.” He looked at Baker directly now. “Take it *home*,” he furthered.

“Philo, huh. The retro-village? Just over there?” Baker Bloch points in a southeast direction from their position atop the Virtual Chelsea Hotel. And, yes, he was already trying to be slightly dismissive of the haughty tone set. In defense mode.

“We are *not* re-tro. It is just that most people around us — on the continent — are from the *fu-ture*.” Horace Wise scanned his neighbor with protruding lower lip. “Like your-*self*, apparently. What fair village or town or city do you represent? Are you a class 4 burg? 3? Dare I say: *2*? We are proudly a 4, since we span two sims now, Myron and also Catal-pa. We actually, in a way, share the Catalpa-Tessock sim with VHC City, another 4.” Horace Wise paused. “I assume VHC City is in the hunt as well, since we’re *here* — at the Chel-sea. I wonder where their represen-tative is, though?”

“I represent Collagesity, by the way,” a now truly irritated Baker Bloch said. “Class 2 burg, I suppose we are. Considerably less than a sim. But we have the forest to boost us up.” Baker waited for Horace Wise to ask questions about the forest but they never came. Instead, he roosted on the class 2 aspect. Instant disqualification in his mind. Just like the case with Rodentia  — all the rest. The many “others.” The wannabes in his mind. Like stars you can’t see with the naked eye in the sky. Don’t matter; nothing to see.

“Hmph,” instead came Horace Wise’s simple, cuttingly dismissive reply. They sat together even more awkwardly after this, waiting for others to show up. Baker Bloch dare not look in his eyes again.

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Filed under *Second Life, Myron, Rubi, VHC City

Providence

“The vila of Twin Peaks they called it from 1880 to 1920. One peak protected by God, the other ruled by Satan and his minions. Black and white of course. Er, white, black. No coincidence the *black* peak towers over this subsection centered by the pool; no coincidence eyeman Jacob built his Joint Joint here instead of elsewhere. This is the true Gaston history you’re looking for. Sugar houses and all. I like your new look, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Hitgal replied to Sangria.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Hittie. You seem anxious about something.”

“Oh I’m just staring at that flag… over there on the abandoned laudromat. Do you think it was there, say, yesterday?”

Sangria looked out the window as well. “Don’t know. Why don’t you have some wine instead of that soda pop; smooth your ruffles out.”

“I’m just thinking about… the Dark Days.”

“Oh don’t go back there. God’s here now sweetie. Watching over us all.”

“I’m telling you Officer Brenin. That door has an eye in it.”

“Where? Where?”

Domino glances over. “You’re looking too low, man. Get off your knees. Bend down.”

—–

“Oh yeah. I see it now. But what does it mean?”

“God. Eye of God, man. Looking out and in at once.”

“But the other side: backwards. Dark Days.”

“We’re here to stop all that nonsense,” declares the now upright Officer Brenin, knowing full well what he said was a lie.

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Filed under *Second Life, Gaston