Tag Archives: All Orange^*+^^+

July 22, 2025 · 1:50 pm

00470411

—–

He went straight to orange like his mama told him to.

“How much, Dimmy?” asked Marilyn M. the shop attendant eyeing him from the front desk while cutting cloth for an order.

Dimmy fished around in his pockets and pulled out the two bills he’d brought with him and held them up for Marilyn to see.

“No, Dimmy,” Marilyn replied patiently, use to such dimness from the now not-so-young boy. Boy in mind, man in body. The former will probably never grow up. “I mean, how much thread do you want — string, as you put it? 5 meters? 10?” She had 10 meters of cloth in her own hands now. Time to cut again, SNIP.

2 football fields, he remembered. Mama told him 2 football field’s worth. So he asked Marilyn how much that was.

“Well, that’ll be 200 yards worth of thread. That’s a lot. Are you sure you want that much? That’ll take more than 20 bucks but, tell you what, I’ll give you 200 feet for exactly that price.” Wanda needed to get home to feed the young’n’s. She wanted to wrap this up with the dimwitted man-boy, as in wrap the needed thread up and send him back home himself. She figured his mama told him feet instead of yards for that particular number since that would be priced around the 20 dollars she gave him. He just got the terms confused when converting them to football measurements in his head on the walk over. Dimmy — kind of knows his football but not much else. 2nd string fullback for the Newtown Fighting Newts. With his physical talent he could have been a star. But, you know, the mind…

Without more words, he handed over the bills.

His mother watched him walk through the front door without the needed bag and became furious. “TOYS,” she barked. “You forgot the TOYS. Or did you misplace them on the way home? Did you even get the string?” Dimmy, use to such outbursts but still hurt by the stinging words, pulled out the wrapped thread from his back pocket. “Well, at least you did THAT much. I can make my line across 1 2 3 4 gullies but I can’t position toys along the way. What am I going to DO with you, Dimmy Gene? Your father, God rest his soul, would be SO disappointed in you now.”

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0411, Blue Mountain, County Park, Haze County, Jeogeot, Newtown+

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July 7, 2025 · 6:33 am

00470315

“So Ice Cube who also stands in for Eraser is dead,” observing Nauty said about the crushing of the vowel object-characters in this game of FILE. “Done in by Ruby Gem’s spell centered on All Orange. But let’s back up, examine what these fruits actually represent. Everyone has an Orange, but only females have generally recognized Apples and males have generally recognized Bananas, Big Apples and Big Bananas we can call them.  Although all have spaces on their body that can be filled with such.”

“Everyone is actually All Orange with Apples and Bananas to fill around (an agreed upon) center,” I attempted.

“Big Orange, right. Or Old Orange,” he wheezed out.

—–

Thanks to the pills she manifested in her mouth, Original Phyllis returned on the ottoman on the 2nd floor of the Crooked building in Constantynople, now depossessed or unlinked from the harmful inner spirit known as All Orange, who some call Big or even Old instead. Like Myrtle Beech for the latter. Shame we can’t get into more of her story right now but there’s only so much you can do with a 24 hour day these days. Outdoor fun like watching a tired dump truck driver unload a Big Arm beside a Big Banana in Flathardt with the help of a handy elephant can only last so long, else you run out of time for other stuff. Plus there’s the rain, the seemingly daily mountain showers and thunderstorms to contend with, PHEH. Else who *knows* what could be achieved. There would be an outdoor center congruent with the inner. But back to original Phyllis in her original role.

“Red yellow green blue,” she begins. “NO orange, NO–” She pauses. Is it about the orange? she briefly contemplates. NO, it’s not about the orange. Nor the violet. “NO violet,” she starts again in her loud, confident manner, pills in full effect now. “NO nothing else. We HAVE — our 4…..”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0315, Constantynople, Flathardt, Goikyland, Haze County, Nautilus

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July 7, 2025 · 6:31 am

00470314

Something’s happened over in Crooked, psychic Myrtle Beech intuits from her position at the center of the island while spying the distinct looking Constantynople building through a gap. One person would definitely know and that’s Old Orange (= All Orange). On her way…

“Okay, Old Orange. Start moving your dangly red legs which are the same as your forked tongue and spill the truth for a change!”

Old/All Orange complies.

—–

MEANWHILE… world maker Philip Linden had made it over to Constanynople library’s Special Collections, despite his head blowing up about 57 times now on his journey across the island south to north. “What’s in those crooked bookshelves over there?” he couldn’t help asking room attendant Swanie Rivers, trying not to flap her wings in disgust and irritation despite the gum. And the gun; both poppers, if both dormant for the moment. Tough stretch of land in the middle of the island — The Abyss some call it — and he decided to pack some heat in his pocket beside his pack of Wriggles chews already planted there. Back to the crooked shelves, he believes he’s seen them in a dream.

Flattie cleaning robot-lady Ross C. slides through the secret door connecting SC with the rest of the library and takes a listen while dusting the totally straight shelves — easy work. Is this really Merk Coolie Brighton in disguise? she thinks. She’d only seen him twice since his death almost 3 1/2 years ago, job killed off along with his Records Center, which he had become the functional manager of down through the years. Blue Boy, she thinks. He called me Blue Boy! Do I *look* blue to you, Merk Coolie Brighton? But I can hear him say he was just trying to kill off the library in turn, making everyone he actually cared about within a color of his TILE, red yellow green blue, with me at the end timewise. It was all up to me to find out the truth, she thinks. 42. Bad juju, and so on and so forth.

But she can’t quite make out what they’re saying, what Philip Linden or what appears to be Philip Linden actually came here for. If it’s that book, that one single book, then she can slam the door on the subject, case closed. But if it isn’t… then the door remains open.

It all depends on what happened in Crooked.

(to be continued)

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July 2, 2025 · 10:02 am

00470308 (workaround)

“An island!” Firey calls from the top. “And about the right size too. Maybe we’ve found our Dream home after all!”

“Cool!” says his riding companion Leafy clinging to his legs below. “Let’s get a closer look. But *careful*.”

“Whoa, that was a *close* call with that big building, Firey. I told you to be careful!”

“And *I* told you when we started I don’t know how any of this works! I’m just along for the ride like you!”

“*Not* cool (still)!”

“Uh oh,” says observing fisherman Mr. Z, watching them move closer to the ground…

Closer… closer…..

*CRASH*

“*Well*,” says tossed aside Firey, trying to make the best of a bad situation. “We’re… here?”

Leafy leaps up, surveys the damage. “Firey what have you done?! Now we’ll never be able to return to Goikyland! Glider — *destroyed*!”

An exclamation which the people holding service behind the red doors of the Church of Ood they just crashed into would surely have heard if they weren’t laughing so hard at Pitch Darkly and his cussing about the blood spurt he’d received on his chest from the clown sacrifice up front, ha ha ha, he he he!! Even wife Mary beside him couldn’t subdue a smile. The landed spurt must have also exactly coincided with the crash outside come to think of it. Cool? Not cool? To be seen, perhaps.

On the other side of the island, All Orange senses another object-character is here with him now. No, make that two other object-characters, he amends.

He rushes inside to place a call to his Constantynople contact.

“Excuse me, Phyllis (Phyllis!),” Al says when hearing a particular ring tone and understanding who is on the other side. “I have to take this. Business matters.”

But Phyllis was still laughing at the matters in the church. Remotely. We’re talking about some kind of doppelganger spirit here.

“Hallo?” Reply. “2 of ’em, eh?” Reply. “Find them before anyone else if possible?” Reply. “I’ll try.” Reply. “Okay, I’ll *do*. Goodbye, All Orange.” He hangs up. “Goodbye forever I wish,” he says to himself and himself only. He turns around but Phyllis is on the ottoman now. Both of ’em.

“Sit down, Al,” they cackle as one, scrunched down to only a laughing/smiling head. “I’ll bring them to us, no worries.”

“Here,” Firey says, spreading his stick arms out before it. “I feel that we should go here.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0308, Church of Ood, Constantynople, Fal Mouth Moon, Goikyland, Nautilus

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March 27, 2025 · 1:04 pm

00460211 (the 1 that got away)

—–

“It was the perfect balance, Wheeler. Our Collagesity should have been integrated into NWES City, lesser to bigger. Red yellow green blue but also orange as the 5th.

“We failed.”

“But now we have a way to redeem ourselves,” balanced Wheeler, wiser in worldly ways than ever. The Baker Family here is still strong. And now with a new home. A new CENTER.

Let the butterflies fly I suppose.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0211, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, NWES Island

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March 7, 2025 · 3:15 pm

00460107

“I see you kneeling behind that curtain in there,” expressed passing businesswoman Pamela Taut, no time for tomfoolery today. Zoom meeting with an important client at 3 about a property deflated in value because of a 1000 year flood. Must be sharp; she wants that sale! Then this. “I say: expose yourself you troublemaker, you… *tart*” Come out, come out!” She only thought of her own name’s similarity with this taunt later.  When she herself was playing a maid to a big wig male’s cleanliness obsession — for a sale again, of course. “Bathroom next,” he said, knowing it was a mess because of the chaos. “Now!” “Yes sir,” she jumped. But it was all fake, just role play. Same with the person behind the curtain. She’d been ordered to sit there by another. No difference really at all.

We’ve seen this person before. Many times. She tires of hiding, wants to come into the light. This is about as close as I dare, focus on the foreground in the shot below, on the face of conspiracy nut Wanda to be specific, still listening to the imaginary (imaginary?) chattering of the mechanical (mechanical?) fish behind the bar. She knows they’ll analyze everything later on. Her friend Jenny sitting across the booth here has started calling her Wanda Fish, another taunt. Where will it end?

Right here. (to be continued)

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March 2, 2025 · 2:45 pm

00460106 (Tin at ten)

“Shelley?” Wheeler started to answer Lexi’s question. “I don’t know. Wandered off into the prison surrounding us; lost in the maze that’s suppose to be a labyrinth, one way in and out. Time to make a switch; free myself from *that* kind of cage. Do you realize, Lexi, that she hasn’t changed her hair style since she was a kid? And those shoes. Kids as well. Keds!”

“I don’t care,” says Lexi back, stopped from dancing for a second. She’ll resume soon enough. “I love her still.”

“You can’t have her, Lexi. She’s… not in your league. She’s in the American, you’re in the National. If the Cincinnati Reds could play the New York Mets in the World Series then you might have a shot. But no sin in Cincinnati, if you catch my, um, lob. Out at home before the game even starts. Back in the pocket with the Bakers badge and all. You’re Mary Anne,” Wheeler summarized before her, still still. “Panama’s Ginger. But Shelley’s different — *I’m* different. And I set the rules. I’m tired of being the mother to a child that never grows up from top and bottom. You notice the change in *my* hair — I’m ready to dive back into the fire from the frying pan just above. Back to the dance. But first…

“… I have to let the butterflies free to do their work. Starting with the midriff, mind you. All Orange.”

Without further words, Lexi begins again.

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November 4, 2023 · 3:48 pm

warden

Some of the orange trees had leaves over there and some did not, but she didn’t have time to figure all that out. Pace rapid, she was on a mission. To find X at his Rockaway Beach mansion and tell him to release her daughter or pseudo-daughter and that she had learned her lesson well enough. She was the mayor after all. Surely he would listen to her, despite being one of those uppity upper men she so detested. Golden Goddess had taught her a valuable lesson yesterday. Surface appearances are often deceiving.

She’d heard he was tall but she couldn’t have guessed *how* tall. A true Slenderman he was during the Halloween season. Duncan Avocado was sitting with him when she entered. She thought Duncan was dead, oh well. That’s the way of characters in these here photo-novels, she realized, staring at his familiar red skeleheart necklace and red hands, as if ripe from a kill. They disappear, they reappear just as quickly sometimes. But sometimes it takes a while too. Like with Avocado. She thought back to kissing the orange on the navel — or the naval on the Orange. Navelencia, the act of.

Which one to approach first? It was as if X was expecting her and had sent for Duncan. Yes, that must be it. Maybe Golden Goddess even warned him of her visit. Or maybe Golden as Roy Coy, not remembering again what she did. One way to find out. She chooses left over right, familiar over strange.

“Duncan *Avocado*,” she cried, and even was tempted to hug the black man as he rose from the ottoman. And so she did.

(to be continued)

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October 29, 2023 · 4:16 pm

00400511

“Your orange-ish hair… so pretty.” He couldn’t help but run his fingers through the semi-transparent ponytail to test its texture.

“Well thanks I guess Al Orange,” she replied, regretting that she sat so close to him now. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Before she realized this was just another one of those mannequins — they all were. No information here to retrieve. And she needed info. So she could get the heck out of Dodge.

“Yes, you’re so pretty overall,” spoke over Dafney Duck, a quack at the doctoring business. Two kneecap replacements just last week. And only none of them needed it. “Why don’t you put on a bathing suit and really, truly join in with us. I have an extra back in the boat, I believe.”

“I *don’t* *do* bathing suits,” she spoke firmly, leaning back and edging away from creepy Al, short for Alvin she assumed. “Not since…” She cut herself off. Couldn’t talk about Mountain Lake yet. Or her actual mother still mayor back in Meat City. But she certainly wasn’t ready to go back to prison. Thus: here.

The host of the party sitting directly behind her — Sandy Hook — then said something. Bitterly. “I wonder if *Edward*… would like to see you in one of those.” Who was this really? Marsha “Pink” Krakow still? Or…

“Coke is real,” uttered the last person at the hot tub, the 6th of 6. Friends? Not really. But the appellation still applied.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0511, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Upper Austra, Wild West

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October 23, 2023 · 9:43 am

blog post now

“It was a naval kiss but not that kind of kiss. From River — you remember. You almost put it in a blog post back then. Novel 39 I believe. Jack Benny the comedian-violinist would not be proud that you have moved into 40. He wished to remain (in) 39 all of his life!”

Once again Marsha started to ponder All Orange, thinking back to the research she did in her old room over in Meat City on the Omega continent, Mother feeding her free sandwiches and whatnot throughout it all. Probably drugged as well, she concludes as she’s thinking of it, reviewing it. Distracted by the computer, she knew she wouldn’t notice. Mother. *Mother*.

She bounced up out of the lounger. Mother put down her second apple she was working on, having thrown away the core of the first in the beach grass or bushes just over there. 1st green, this one red. She had progressed from better to best by the taste of it. Or worse to worst, depending on which way you’re looking at the situation.

“Stew dogs’ ready!” called Eddie from the red hot grill. “WELLL. I hope you’re still hungry after all that fruit,” spoke pseudo-daughter Marsha down to Wheeler with this. Wheeler, on her part, was going to see eating the latest apple through to the bitter end. She intended to eat the core this time. She was going to finish it all.

But not until after the dogs. Dogg walks up. “Rat you reating Reeler?”

“None of your business mutt,” she dismissed him out of hand.

“Rogg, actually,” spoke Dogg, thinking she just misstated his actual name. Moving on…

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