“There!” she cried again. “Mother’s apple!” She was still studying, still perusing the category “All Orange” in the blog through her remote feed. Orange slice after orange slice, she ate, trying to get the whole, rounded picture.
“And there!”
Tag Archives: All Orange^*+^^+
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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0405, Nautilus, Omega, Rank & File, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island, Yd Island
00400404
She was back in her old room doing remote research. Mother provided free food, just like in childhood. She had a tape recorder and several hour long tapes in which to record her thoughts. She started at the beginning and worked her way up to the present. Early on she found her Volkswagen bug. “There!” she pointed out to herself and herself only. For now. “Like Emma’s, like Jack’s before her. Or after her, doesn’t matter. A story in a brook.”
The man is Tropp, she recalled. Grown up from Opp and wearing a birthday hat instead of a birthday suit. But she gets the point. He started out as an Mmmmmm but became more, unlike his cousin Grassy who remained a mere toy. He walks pass the bug and through the arch to yesterday’s tomorrowland.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0404, Nautilus, Omega, Rank & File, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island
Meanwhile…
She was through with prison for a while, having properly finished her sentence there (“–goddess”). She took her new found knowledge about the cow, All Orange, etc. back to Broadwater. Or actually Osbourne Beach to the south of the new strip mall instead of west. Prison was north. Pink saw pink and understood. Herself. She could handle it if she remained off the grid grid and all the square stuff where Utah merged with Omega and tended to cancel it all out, good triumphing over evil, it thought. She had to make peace with her mother. She had to gain knowledge from her library in de skies.
“Yes, there it is,” she said to her after thumbing to the right page in Book 18. “All Orange.”
“We begin there, then,” came the reply.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0403, Gaeta V, Omega, Twin Peaks, Twin Peaks Laboratory, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island, Utah
sing sing
In a hidden wing of the prison she finds a big clue, perhaps a master map. Gazing at pink, she knows where she is. And who she is! She dispenses with the cow part, hoping to remember more.
It worked! All Orange beneath (perfection). “I am a–.”
—–
“Once you finish your meditation we can begin the reading, Edward.”
“Still can’t believe you’re a (prison) psychic as well as a bartender, Nas,” he spoke from his yoga position across the scrying table. Another Golden Goddess, he thinks. A chain! And all he had to do was set up a date later on to pay. Perfection once more.
“*Concentrate*. Put the question foremost in your mind.”
—–
“This prison can no longer hold you, Edward, her Eddie,” she read. “You have past through the 2 pillars. 10 becomes 1 from bottom to top and you begin again. You will have enough money to prosper or at least be comfortable in your olden age to do so.”
Good but not original Golden Goddess good, Eddie intuits here. He must return to her.
Now he just has to wait on Pink to finish her sentence.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0402, Omega, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island
00390616
“Such an interesting light show, Al.”
“I thought you might like this spot. Sarah.” He turns, leans in for a kiss.
In Coyote Canyon in the middle of these Western Hills of the 1st Bellisseria continent, Mid-Hazel prepares to die, as she’s done the past 100 years it seems. But, as visiting Herbert Glenn Gold speculated earlier in the present photo-novel — fast drawing to a close — this time it might be for real. Pre-Abyss Absorption here I come at long last, she might be thinking in the picture below.
She is not alone at her wannabe death bed trailer.
Hand in hand, the couple walks toward Opaque Lake in decreasing darkness.
Wait a minute: *pumpkins*??
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0616, Bellisaria, Western Hills
00390508
Pitch eventually found Wheeler in another one of those Hana Lei lands, specifically designed for kids this go around. And that’s how our Shelley Struthers, now reverted to a child — at least temporarily — got involved.
“What happened to her face?” Pitch asked Shelley after they were able to separate away from Wheeler for some private talk. “It’s like, I don’t know, 2 things superimposed on each other that don’t belong.”
“Yeah, the blonde hair,” Shelley agreed. Then she explained that it went back to when Wheeler was underneath the chocolate all that time, lapping it up like some kind of deranged dog. “Must have done something to her complexion.”
“Hmm,” Pitch said to this. “Shouldn’t she, then, I don’t know, turn *brown* or something?” Not blonde, he additionally thought.
“Might not work like that,” quickly answered small Shelley, already wise way beyond her age. For she wasn’t really she in the hallucination. This is kind of combining several layers into one, smooshing them altogether like a club sandwich in a vise. Thus the picture of the faces in the carnival poseboard, I believe they call them. To illustrate or symbolize the change (another flattening).
But this might be better: Wheeler preparing to take a ride on the Olympia Looping roller coaster, drawn in by the 4 colors of TILE displayed all around. “TILE” she said to the attendant after he asked for her ticket. Jim Crochet Wedding Dress let her ride anyway, little voice in his ear telling him so. The Big Boss, or at least one of the Big Bosses, Wonka I believe. Or Wonky. Wonky like Willa, ha ha. OK, I’ll stop, Wheeler. So getting back to her (always her, never me it seems lately), she takes a ride, but she also calls over a companion. “Arthur, I need you Arthur,” she said in the message accompanying the teleport offer. “I need you more than ever.” Take in what happens when I trip the light fantastic, she added to herself. Because she knew she’d see stars; they were just that bonded by this point. She’d write all this up from the perspective of Edward later on, about 2:01 in the morning, she’s guessing. Always seems to be that or around that.
“What happened to your face?” he asked upon showing up.
“Never mind that, I’ll change before we start looping.” And he got in beside her, ready for a start. With her deformed mug still in place, she kissed.
“I love you Wheeler!” he shouted before the TILE colors even came into play: still on orange. All Orange, as it turned out. The rest was mere refraction from the whole.
Pitch just stood there at the bottom beside Jim, wondering what happened to Shelley as he watched blue turn into red turn into green turn into yellow to end the looping. All grown up again and gone? he wondered. He’d find out soon enough (here come the cars).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0508, HANA LEI
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After reading Bart’s own what they later called treatise, a proper study indeed, Lisa wandered around the town as if on drugs, unable at times to distinguish the true nature of reality. “What’s this?” she asked Wanda, now working at Neptune’s Stop and Go. “An orange? A Christmas decoration? *Wait*. Too early for Christmas, since this is… dammit, what time of year *is* it?? The 4th??”
“Always the 4th,” spoke Wanda, probably part of the trance or vision or whatever was going on with the intelligent yellow gal, having confronted the nonunderstanable, even to the super smart, which she borders on at the very least. The Abyss, others call it. The Great Void. “Wha-what do you mean by that? Wanda?”
“Go home, Lisa. Go back to your maw, your paw. Do you know where you live?”
She didn’t! “No!”
“Then Sylvester will guide you. Syl-VESTERR!” she called in an impossibly loud voice.
“I’m *right* *here*,” the tuxedo cat said, popping out of the same orange and green arrangement Lisa had questioned just earlier. He leapt down on the floor, extended his hand. “Come on come on,” he urged in a slobbery voice, a bit of spittle landing on Lisa’s red shoed feet. “Your mommy and daddy are probably waiting on you, probably wondering where you are.”
“Where — I am?” She stared at the proffered white hand.”
“Go ahead,” urged Wanda from the side. “It’s your only hope.”
Only hope. She grabbed the paw and went out the door.
The cat was gone. Bart appeared on a skateboard, did a nifty turn to halt the thing and come right up on her. “Jesus, Lisa. Mom and Dad were worried sick! Now why did you have to stomp out like that, like some kind of zombie? And where is my paper?! I have to turn it in tomorrow. Did you throw it in the trash? Jeez, Lisa, why would you do such a thing? Didn’t you like it? I know I’m not as smart and don’t read nearly as much as you — heck, I hardly read at *all*. But… hey Lisa. You all right? Can you hear me? Jeez. We better get you home, Lisa. I better walk you home. If I only could connect myself all up, jeez, I guess I could do that very thing. But, as you can see…”
Something was wrong, very wrong. Bart had scared Lisa to pieces with his words.
She wakes up?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0401, Jeogeot, Neptune, NWES Island
orange to orangeade
She’d finished washing her hands and had rejoined Edward and Arthur in the living room. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with her, boys,” they heard her say from the kitchen, knowing Dukie was still involved. Unseen. Sitting at the small table Shelley and Arthur or perhaps Shelley and Edward would dine at later. Or earlier. She had to choose, they knew: real or fiction? They, Al and John the Mind Reader sitting around that table for now, talked about the past, the *waste* of it all. Glad to be outta that hellish hole at least for a while. Hot as rot there. They came out to talk about TILE. In a slice of time so orange that everyone had forgotten it existed. All Orange, then.
“Well,” said resigned John to his boss across from him. “It’s right there in the introduction of the manifesto, the first paragraph as it were, although I don’t tell that to the Tilist conservatives of course. ‘Let’s make this shit happen’,” he quoted.
Al uncrossed his arms and started tapping the table nervously, pondering options. 561 paragraphs, 561 words in the *first* paragraph, the one not making up the introduction. *He* was conservative too; in a way, in a manner. He didn’t really like discussing his right leaning tendencies to liberal John, though. And he blocked it from his mind as well, knowing John could dig it out if not. All Orange did the trick. Neither here nor there. A pause between destinies.
“What do you think about the ‘perhaps sentence’?” he decided to say, staring directly into the visor glasses covering his blind eyes, trying to read any emotions he could resulting in the spoken words. Rephrased (and implied): What did liberal John think about Bart and Lisa’s addendums to the manifesto? He’d save discussion about the even more controversial, more obscure Zero Hero until later. Best to deal with the 1 through 8 currently, the visible compendium.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0605, Nautilus, Wild West
secret cave
She needs something in her midriff. About, right… there. Don’t worry; doesn’t hurt. It’s all play.
Afterwards, she gives thanks to handy Ganesh for the gift of the new beginning. She’s able to turn herself off now at will. She can return home.
“Get the f- out of here. And take your dangly red legs with you too!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0515, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File, Wild West
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She thought of herself as ugly, a cow even.
Later, from her perch above, she watched her bathe, thinking, If I was only that beautiful. Xia and her cat. Always the cat, even in water. Sky, land, water — didn’t matter. Sometimes she believes she is the cat. I can’t leave, Myrtle thinks. I love her too much.
“All done!” came the call from below. Then she moves toward her clothes, cat still glued to the shoulder. Another constant, let’s call it. Myrtle watches everything with great interest. She use to not be this way. There was Ted, there was John — his twin, granted, but still another person. Then Harry the Lie Detector Magician. He hooked her up one day after much pestering. “Who do you love?” he asked her with great sincerity, tricking her. “You?” she answered basically as a question, making the meter jump. “Try again,” he said with some venom. Zimmy of course. Forbidden love. But then Zimmy changed into Xia. Soul shift. She use to not be this way.
—–
“Tell me that you love me, Xia,” she said, looking over. 1/2 sincere, both knew. Xia was playing this game too. She’d learned from the best (Zimmy).
“Of course I love you, Myrtle. You’re my bestest friend in the world, even closer to me than Zimmy.” Myrtle knew Zimmy didn’t exist any longer physically so he really didn’t count. She said so.
“Oh, Zimmy’s around. I just saw him fiddling with that portal, trying to get that thing to work for *real* this time.”
Myrtle had watched *Xia* mess with the so-called portal on the porch over there just before she came for a visit. There was no Zimmy. Not any longer. Okay, she’ll play along. “Zimmy’s a good brother to you.”
“*1/2* brother,” Xia quickly added.
“1/2 brother,” Myrtle calmly corrected herself.
“He taught me everything there is to know.”
“I know.”
“I *know* you know.”
Silence between them. Xia’s feet daintily kicked the old wooden fence marking the border between their properties, reminding her that she needed to return home soon. But — so lonely over there. Only Zimmy. Like talking to a mirror sometimes, she lamented. They were only 1/2 kin to each other blood-wise but still so close that their skins almost overlapped, blood shared and then some. “Come over here,” he said just earlier, before the visit started, patting the rug below the non-blue ball.
It took about 5 days, but Xia, slowly but surely, began to think of Myrtle as a mom. *Her* mom. Zimmy’s too. This baffled Myrtle. She decided to retreat into the interior of the island for contemplation, to a parcel some call the Abyss. Maybe the term was applied later, after what happened to Myrtle. Myrtle became… dark after that.
While gone, she rented her place to an orange being. All Orange. Not useful any longer, the elves retreated back into Philip, their creator after all, if not a Dark Lord. They’d forgotten who their actual father was, and that he had been living amongst them all this time. Everyone absorbed the inevitable fall together. Dancing Chuck looked on at the mess, wondering how the heck he was going to put all these pieces back together. In the end, Zimmy became intermixed with Xia and visa versa. And Philip became part fish, part tall tale himself, the stuff of legend; many books and documents written about him. When Myrtle returned from the Abyss and kicked All Orange back to greener pastures… well, we better save some of the story for later…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0511, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File, Wild West
Sunklands 