news 03

He was remembering more. “Pansy. That was your name! Pansy Mouse.”

“Correct.” He points to the planchette on the crate in front of him with the board, another demon device. “We got it from this.”

“And that’s where…”

“Correct.”

He changed. This was the past. Pansy = Pan-Z. Jeffrie Phillips instinctively grasps his glowing red tie, a long held habit. He knew *they* were still in there. So many — well, five.

The now squeaky voice continued. “Audrey was in it all along. She *caused* it.”

(to be continued?)

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news 02

“I don’t know how long I was a mouse but it was a long time. I lived in the richest house in town but we were still dirt poor. Like all the rest. Audrey lived 5 doors down. There were no houses inbetween. Just doors: upright, as if still serving a function. And perhaps they were.”

Jeffrie Phillips was becoming impatient with the doctor’s rambling story. Why was he the doctor now? What happened to the old one? He asked these aloud.

“I’m trying to tell you, Baker Bloch.”

Baker Bloch? Jeffrie Phillips thinks here. But then he realized the (new) doctor was right. That was he. And this was his bakery. Bake’s Bakery, with the demon hot beverage dispenser to complete. It didn’t work without the vending machine. He decides to ask the doctor about it next.

“So tasty,” Doctor Mouse compliments. “I had a, let’s see (he checks his inventory), a Jedi tea. I suppose that’s something from Star Wars.”

“Star *What*?” Jeffrie Phillips had never heard of Star Wars. “Do you mean Star Trek?”

“I do not,” the doctor measured out. He keeps thinking back to the drink, and how it vanished into thin air just before he could take the last swallow. Oh well: delicious still. No need to ask for a prorated discount from Baker Boy here. The Boy.

He first met him when he was this Mouse. He tells Baker Baby Buddy Boy this here. His old nickname. It rang a bell.

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news

Bake’s Bakery has moved in to one of the 2 lower rooms of my more downtown Teepot apartment. The demon hot beverage dispenser remains, ha ha (he he he (ho ho ho ho)).

Just around the corner (hu hu!).

Also: the important bits of the attached apartment remain. Like this now 5 day old pizza in one of the 2 upstairs rooms (hi!).

“We better get down to business, Jeffrie. Let’s talk about Audrey.”

“Okay, um, *doctor*.”

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new 03

“Come on and hurry up with that kid’s puzzle, Duncy. I’m ready to start with the *adult* toys.”

“Alright.”

“Now Duncy. *Separate* your words; don’t compound everything you say just because you are *lazy*.”

“All… right.” He was trying so hard not to be stupid and duncy. He so wanted to earn a new nickname from Bubbles.

And later he would: The Boy or just Boy, derived from DeBoy (derived from D-Boy or Dunce-Boy or one who makes a lot of “D”‘s). Because one day, not too far in the future and maybe even today, The Boy from DeBoy would open Suisan’s eyes to the world around her and the horror it entails. Entrails.

“Maw came back last night,” DeBoy (still DeBoy here and not The Boy — yet) offered while keeping alert for a puzzle piece with a brightly painted clown face on it. “Fresh from Stomach Land.”

“Now, *Duncy*. You *know* there’s no such place.”

“There tis too.” He had a while to go in Suisan’s eyes. She could see the boy now but the cone still dominated the face. Sometimes — often — he became merely a cone again. DeCone.

“There it is!” he exclaims, spotting it with his keen eyes. He inserts another piece. Shouldn’t be long now.

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new 02

He kissed the cone topped clown head from the back. “I love you,” he cooed. “And I *understand* you.”

He turned and finally saw her. In the flesh! She was scratching her head, but not from something she didn’t understand this time. Lice. Must have got in during the middle of the night. No more sleeping in clown barns!

She hadn’t notice him yet because of all the scratching. Itching and scratching. He could run away — again. But where? Back to his maw? Nah, that wasn’t really an option, although he needed food every once in a while. Tripe: better than entrails at times. It described his life perfectly.

Bubbles, he thought. That’s what I’ll call her. The name just floated into his head like an enclosed air pocket. And once he had a name then talking could commence. “Little girl, little girl,” he began softly, out of earshot again. He knew just how to pitch it to remain unheard. Then: “I’m here, I’m here, I’m — *here*.” The last “here” got through, as he planned. Despite the name (DeBoy, derived from D-Boy or Dunce Boy or one who makes a lot of “D”s and just gets by) this diminutive fellow is quite nuanced and different from us more learned folks. And now he possibly has a friend.

Suisan turned again toward the voice but again saw nothing but a cone. The boy remained invisible to her.

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new

“I don’t understand what I’m suppose to be *learning* here!”

A noise from the back of the room. She had awoken someone. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m here,” the boyish male voice sleepily repeated, as if waking up from a dream. “I’m here.”

But when she got up and turned in surprised response no one was there.


“I’m here, I’m here,” it said, just out of earshot now on the other side of the veil. Only a dunce cap remains. “I’m here.”

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Boos Gallery (Collagesity dispersal continues)

It fits, but I don’t think it *fit* fits. That is, it slots — barely — into this side of the 640 square metere parcel I just rented in NWES City, but stylistically there’s something left to be desired seemingly. Back to the drawing board… the positioning still appears “meaningful”, hmm.

Maybe it does fit in there.

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Teepot

“I may never go back to Mainland, Hucka Doobie. I like it here. I have Bake’s Bakery now. Like it was meant to be.”

“What about Cassandra City?” asked Hucka Doobie logically. “What of NWES City? It appears you need Mainland still.” She wiped her highlighted nose with her sleeve. Always forgetting her handkerchief these days, arrgh! Stupid nose.

“Both, then.” Like vending machine salesman Appleyon was both a new friend and an old old enemy, he thought to himself.

“Baker, you’ll have to excuse me,” Hucka Doobie blurted with this, stifling an urge to snort. “I have to go somewhere and blow my nose!”

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Bake’s Bakery

“It’s good, isn’t it?” asked Appleyon about his hot specialty tea. The cup he holds disappears after a well timed last sip. “All is good here. All is positive.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” still sipping Baker Bloch replies. He was really grateful for getting such a quality hot beverage vending machine for the low low price. 10 lindens! Basically giving it away, he thinks satisfactorily. His cup also vanishes, but he wasn’t quite finished.

“You have to stand 2 feet from the machine, the cup disappears after 30 seconds and can’t be rerezzed, and it’s only stocked for today. Goodbye for now!” Appleyon disappears himself after these rapid fire declarations. Baker is left alone in his new bakery, pondering what kind of deal he made with that devil of a guy. *Was* he really his friend? Or an old old enemy rearing its ugly, mean spirited head again?

Baker Bloch goes over to the machine and orders another hot beverage.

Probably a mixture of the two, he thinks while starting to sip again. Ahh, so good!

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basket case

Baker’s new friend Appleyon eyeing the Second Life globe spinning ’round the top of Teepot’s schoolhouse tower and noticing there’s no Orient to go along with the Occident. Pre-June 2009 he determined. Before *apples* became oranges, ha ha. He he he. Ho ho ho ho.

Appleyon is a bad one.


Silly humans. Should have never opened the box.

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