Tag Archives: Allen Martin^*++++

Merging tracks

“Ahhh! That face!!”

“We app-re-ci-ate your time in our fair ci-ty,” OD continued in its clipped manner, suddenly detached from the wall and looming larger. The wegee planchette had stopped spinning. “We have ass-im-il-at-ed the bird, zip, the man known as Mar-tin. Sanc-tu-ar-y is with-in reach. You can go ab-out, ping, a-bout your way. Thank you for vis-it-ing and come back again ver-y, zip, fair-ly soon.”

The Musician fled the scene, running upstairs. Wheeler stood her ground. She pulled out a large, futuristic gun from her coat. “Get back on the wall, buster. We’re not finished here.”

—–

Meanwhile… Allen Martin appeared to be dead at the very same spot Renaldo O’Donnell lay early.

But then he stood up. “Just a pose ball,” he muttered. “No murder atall. And my son… all that change and attached grief for nothing, it seems.”

He moves around the corner to the next area, being careful to head *away* from his apartment (unlike Wheeler earlier). A break room?

Maybe the stupid people responsible for this charade. The thought crossed his mind that VHC City is just a giant stage set for some kind of film being made. Horror story?

He then sees something more interesting appearing in the next area: a purple spheriod thingie. No: green; no: blue. He checks the description of the now golden object. Jeez God, he thinks, an “alien egg tree.” This *is* a horror story.

He walks between pipe and chair to take a closer look.

Nothing else really that odd about it except the name. And a dead end in this direction. He’d have to retrace his steps.

But then, a monster bursts forth through the wall in front of him, turns around, then leaves through same. A giant crocodile, it appears!

He may have to go back to the apartment to get his heart medicine before advancing further.

—–

Allen Martin then heard a female voice call his name from the direction of the “break room.” Wheeler.

They met in front of this gate on the far side of the room, the Fate Gate they would later call it. From this point on they would move forward together. Holding hands again, they passed through.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0004, 0204, Heterocera, VHC City^

Game on.

Allen Martin had started on his 4th glass of Pinot Noir, by Wheeler’s counting. It was time to lay the cards on the table.

“We know about the underground, Allen.”

“Ooh,” he says, retracting from his wine glass as if he’s suddenly seen a gnat floating in it.

“We know about the murder.” The gnat had turned into a fly. “We know about your *son*.” The fly had phoned up his friends centipede and cockroach to join him for a dip. Martin was sitting back, eyes riveted to Wheeler’s. The 4th glass would not be drunk tonight.

“Do tell!” he said icily.

—–

Meanwhile, The Musician had gotten lost in the labyrinthian streets of VHC City looking for a store selling guitar strings. Surely with all the concerts this place puts on there’s a music shop around here somewhere, he rationalized. He then wandered back into his safe plaza by accident, let’s say. He knew no such shop existed in the immediate area. Yet he couldn’t resist. The Dr. Who pinball machine beckoned.

Two hours later, he sat exhausted on the bar’s couch, seeming to stare out at the red doors while actually thinking about all the moves he could have made to transform from Doctor Who #4 (Tom Baker) to Doctor Who #5 (Peter Davison). He could have hit the target bank more before the time ran out, charging up the Transmat. On and on the deliberations went.

While his head was spinning with dreams of pinball wizardry, Wheeler and Allen Martin walked by the bar heading north, unaware of his presence.

He waited about a half minute, then peeked out the door of the bar in that direction. They were going into [delete name]. Now he’d been in that building a number of times, but only on the ground floor, playing with the computer console there. He’d found valuable information about Muff-Bermingham though the free interwebs feed shortly after their arrival in town, indicating the planet had influence in this particular area. Surprising!

The Musician crossed the plaza, hiding behind a stair post.

No indication they were on the first floor, nor used the stairs to access the 2 upper floors. They couldn’t simply disappear into thin air. Could they? The Musician counted 10 Mississippis and moved forward again. At the center of the ground floor he turned and first thought of the oddity about the Sipvicious advertisement on the floor.

Uberpunk Sid Vicious had famously stayed in the town’s huge hotel. His girlfriend had died there. Yet this ad didn’t seem to have anything to do with the proximity of the hotel. One more mystery to mark down in an ever growing leger of wierdness.

He heard voices: Allen’s and Wheeler’s, seeming to issue up from below. He walked toward the stairs, noticing that they led downward as well as upward. A hitherto unknown about basement, hmm. “A giant ant?”

But that was just the first and mildest surprise.

“He said he had to see for himself,” Wheeler spoke upon noticing The Musician approach with dropped mouth. “And… I suppose we need to catch up. OD, meet The Musician. Musician, well, this is OD.”

“Wel-come,” it said.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0004, 0203, Heterocera, VHC City^

VCHsity

Allen Martin was almost at the point where he turned right to get to his upstairs apartment when he spotted them on the bench ahead. Always curious about visitors to his adopted town, he checked their profiles. Wheeler Wilson and Musician Resident: somehow familiar. Checking further, he also sees groups they are members of that he knows about — Blue Feather Gallery in particular. Although it’s not his typical policy, he decides to introduce himself.

He walks down the steep set of stairs to the road and saunters up. True to his name, Musician Resident (The Musician) was producing music, namely playing what might be a Bob Dylan song to Allen Martin’s admittedly rather untrained ears. He sits down on the curb next to him and listens in, like the other avatar on the bench — this Wheeler Wilson — seems to be doing as well.

The old man starts grooving to the lyrics.

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you’re so clever and classless and free
But you’re still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There’s room at the top they’re telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me

Allen Martin dares to applaud at the end. Wilson Wheeler emits a few claps of her own. “That was marvelous,” the old man offered. “Is that a Dylan?”

“Yeah,” replies The Musician acidly. “Thomas. Dylan Thomas. He stayed in that very hotel down this street; wrote some of the best folk lyrics ever penned. Dylan Thomas was the man in his day. Even moreso than Thomas Mann.”

“Oh stop it,” urges Wheeler, hitting him on the shoulder with her hand. “The guy’s just trying to be friendly.” She speaks to the stranger. “That was a Lennon song, um, Martin I see. Allen Martin — interesting name. Seems familiar.”

“I was just thinking the same about your name. We seem to have some groups in common. Blue Feather Gallery in particular. You guys aren’t from Collagesity by chance are you?”

Wheeler doesn’t answer immediately, perhaps disappointed that Allen Martin hadn’t recognize her. “You could say that,” she finally managed.

“Which part? I was from the North. Until the land was sold. Had to pull up stakes again. I’ve stopped here in my travels several times.” He wipes his brow with his hand. “Let’s see I suppose this is about my 5th layover in VHC City. Not Town, mind you. That’s how you spot strangers. That all came from an error in a promotional pamplet about 7 years back. Yes, the printer is dead now. Unusual circumstances. Some say he still haunts the berg, whispering lies into impressionable ears and brains. But I wander…”

“Yes,” The Musician says plainly. He turns to Wheeler. “We should probably go.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Wheeler says. “You use to run the gas station up on Robin Lane. I remember you now. You had a dog.”

“Well, I have a *son* named Doogie. Close to doggie. But less obedient.” He smiles.

“No, I distinctly remember a pet.”

“Oh, you mean *Aspinwall.* Still got the little feller. And I still run a gas station, just here in VHC City. For now.” He looks at their rumpled, rather dirty clothing. “You sure you guys are doing okay here? Do you need some help? Us Collagesity alums should stick together.” He’s guessed their situation.

“We’re fine,” The Musician snaps back.

“What are you offering?” Wheeler follows immediately afterwards. She knew they couldn’t stay here much longer without help. The vampires were moving in.


Vampire moving in.

“Well, if you’re talking about living arrangements, I have not one but three apartments rented in town right now. You could crash in the lower one for a while if you need. I rented three so I would have lots of prims to work with at the station. Seems like every time Doogie walks onto the premises, there goes 7 prims right there.”

“I don’t get it,” The Musician says to him, and turns to Wheeler and states the same.

“He’s got a son who’s composed of 7 prims,” explains Wheeler. “Obvious. Okay, we’ll take a look. Thanks very much!” Wheeler runs up and kisses him on the cheek. “And just so you know,” she then whispers in his ear, “I use to *own* Collagesity. Keep that in mind when dealing with me. I’m a controller.” She takes his hand. “Now let’s look at that apartment.”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0004, 0201, Heterocera, VHC City^

Lidsville

snapshot8760_039

“Ahhh. You found the wormhole. Good work Aspinwall. Now come on out and rest.”

—–

One day later…

snapshot8761_003

“You see, Allen Martin. The hole grows larger and your Aspy grows smaller. Soon she will be a mere baby. It’s an exchange of energy. Once fully opened it will consume that world and we will be able to see what’s on the other side. Aspinwall will have her children.”

The elder Martin pries his eyes away from the spinning vortex long enough to glance over at Urch again. “I still can’t believe you’re Jack Lemon’s grandson. You could be him as a kid. I’ve seen pictures.” He tested the urchin child again. “And you say you grew up in Bennington?”

“Farmington,” Urch corrected.

“And your father was Patmos Jim?”

“John,” returned Urch. “But back to the hole, you can see it’s positioned at the end of that row of 6 different wall pieces. Those are the masters. The hole acts like a punctuation mark. The sentence is forming. When we know what it says, that will be the end. World gone. It’s a cypher world. It’s only purpose. It’s like a lid into another dimension. A lid placed there so you wouldn’t just stumble upon it and fall in.”

“What’s beyond?” Allen Martin asked Urch, face closer to the picture now. “Any speculations?”

“Well, we have a giant wall just over there.” Urch points northward. “An asp whose gaping mouth seems to want to consume Collagesity as a whole, starting with the TILE temple. The first three sims the wall passes through north to south are Athetis, Spini, and Pyri. ASP. It’s abundantly obvious that Aspinwall here is suppose to be associated with that wall. ASP in Wall.”

snapshot8761_021

“Yeah, I get it,” says Allen Martin. “Hey, wasn’t your mother a Tiler, Urch? Uma, wasn’t it?”

“Ursula,” she corrects again, shifting her weight to the right. “A reformed Tiler, yes. She accepts the existence of religions based on numbers other than four. Like your Christianity and its trinity. Like the Martian Pentagostals… so forth.”

“And what about you sprout?” furthers Allen Martin. “Do you follow in the sanctified footsteps of your mother or the dusty hoofprints of your father? Which way do *you* spin?”

“Perhaps I will only find that out when the hole is opened. Shouldn’t be long. See? Aspinwall is growing a little shorter by the minute. I’d say another day at the most.

All look down at the withering serpent. The bird on the plate seems to eye it almost hungrily.

snapshot8762_001

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0503, Heterocera, Rubi^

VW(XYZ)

snapshot8759_027

“Let’s see what this so called ‘secret society’ is all about, you Joker,” he says. Wilson goes into the VWX fairy house.

snapshot8759_011c

—–

“I thought this is where he said the hole was, son.” Allen Martin pivots around, looking. “Where’d Aspy go?”

“Dunno pops,” answered Doogie, who continued staring at something in the distance.

snapshot8759_029

“There he is. Where’s he heading *now*?”

Doogie does a 180. “Looks like he’s going down the hill on the other side of this house or whatever it is… shed.”

snapshot8759_030

“Well keep up with him,” his father implored. “You know my legs aren’t what they use to be.” Allen Martin struggles to get to his feet. His son doesn’t move to help him, instead following the snake.

“Hmm,” Doogie says. “Now he’s on some kind of green table. “Looks like he’s waiting on us maybe.” Allen Martin hobbles up to his son.

snapshot8759_036

“Great. Another hill.” the older Martin complains. “Help me out a little this time, Doogie. Will ya?”

“Sure, okay,” the son says lacadasically.

10 minutes later they were at the bottom, staring at the picture. On the white pillar now, Aspinwall kept knocking his snake head against it in emphasis.

snapshot8759_038

“Hey pops,” Doogie finally says. “Doesn’t that kind of look like the picture of your old college down on the bottom floor of our house now.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” the older man replies. “I was on the wrong wall.”

snapshot8759_039

snapshot8759_053

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0502, Heterocera, Rubi^

Martins

Hucka Doobie threw Baker Blinker a party at Perch in celebration of her recent land sale, a 3856 parcel in the northeast part of Minoa. Now I feel Collagesity is how it should be size-wise, with Blinks’ land costs reduced down to the next tier. I anticipate no more additions or subtractions to the town. It’s great as is.

Afterwards, Baker Blinker decided to go over and talk to new Collagesity renter Allen Martin to see how the move went. You see, Martin had *just* set up his gas station and backing house on the 3856 when the sale went through. The Bakers kindly offered to immediately move the still empty World of Collage building next door to make room there for his structures. Baker Blinker met Martin’s son Doogie in the garage. She was surprised to see Baker Bloch’s Spookmobile being worked on within.

snapshot8755_002

“Hi, I’m Baker Blinker.”

“Nice to meet you,” Doogie said. “Are you here for the car? Because we need to talk about some costs.”

“No, that’s Baker Bloch’s car. The other Baker. You know who I am, don’t you?”

“You’re the owner.”

“Of the land, not the car. That’s the other Baker. But I thought he took it on his trip with him, hmm.” She scans the car, verifying as far as she could ascertain that this is indeed Baker’s Spookmobile. “He owns the middle and south parts of the town,” she continues. “I own this part, the northern part. But not the car, see. That’s still Baker Bloch’s.”

“Well, I still need to talk to someone about this car,” Doogie said, thinking that this dame sure is chatty.

“Your father around, um… what’s your name again?” Baker Blinker felt it somewhat rude that he didn’t introduce himself properly but just kept going on about that car. That blame car.

“Douglas. But call me Doogie. Like Doogie Houser the tv star.”

“Well, nice to meet you again Doogie.”

“Likewise. So about the car…” Doogie, a born mechanic, couldn’t help himself. He goes on to explain that the whole exhaust system needs to be replaced. He said that it looked like the car had been sitting on the bottom of some ocean for years, a joke that hit the target dead center.

“Well, actually…”

snapshot8756_002

Allen Martin then walked up from behind Baker Blinker. She caught him winking at his son. “So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing here at this old, dingy garage.”

“I’m Baker Blinker,” she explained again. “The owner… of the land, not the car. We spoke on the phone last night. We moved a whole building next to yours this morning.”

“Oh, right right,” he said. “The *boss*. Well, I do appreciate it, I really do. We — Doogie and I — have been moving around quite a lot lately. It would be nice to settle down somewhere on the mainland and establish a clientele. Last place was up in Bennington. Let’s see, it was last Tuesday — right Doogie? — when the gangsters came and shot all the windows out. And then there were the fires, the floods, the tornados. No, Bennington was not a place to set up shop. A wild wild town. So we’re glad we’re here. Aren’t we Doogie?”

“I suppose so father.” He was still looking over the car. “And the headlights don’t work. Horn neither. Spark plugs and wires need replacing. Distributor obviously. You can’t put this car back on the highway without a lot of repairs.”

Allen Martin approaches the back of the car and bends down. “I thought I saw something wiggling around in that tailpipe, hmm.” Inspecting it and seeing nothing now, he rubs his peepers with his fingers. “Ehh, it’s been a long day. Just a trick of the eyes, I’m sure.”

snapshot8756_004

It wasn’t. The banded grey sea serpent waited until nightfall to crawl out of the rusting exhaust system where he’d been living for years and make his introductions. Allen Martin was still sitting at his desk on the top floor of that backing building, where, about a half hour before, he enjoyed a beautiful sunset over Robin Lane while thinking to himself that this is a place he could maybe stay a spell.

snapshot8758_004

Allen Martin was asleep, feet on desk, by the time his son Doogie yelped upon finding the serpent on the floor next to him while underneath the tv, trying to jerry-rig a free cable connection.

snapshot8758_002b

“Nothing but static, phew hew!” slurped the snake loudly. “I’m Aspinwall by the way, like an asp in a wall. And I’m about to have babies!”

snapshot8758_007b

1 Comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0501, Heterocera, Rubi^

AFTERWARDS…

… Baker Bloch bought Old Mabel and Hucka Doobie dinner at Perch to make up for almost killing them with his Spookmobile several hours earlier. The catch of the day was… perch. All ordered it. All complimented the chef (Keat Owens: back on the job!). Baker Bloch and Hucka Doobie talked of old times in the White Palace. Hucka told Old Mabel some of the story about Greenhead in Real Lyfe, where he was originally from.

“The bees and the humans from down south in Whitehead Crossing originally got on,” he explains, “but then came Uncle Joe and Aunt Zoe, the *bad* humans or human*villains*.

“Nice pun,” adds Baker Bloch.

“Thanks,” replies Hucka Doobie. “We had to seal up the hole. Thus opened up the hole more near Whitehead Crossing, but later on. It was merged with Kentucky’s Mammoth Cave, the biggest hole we could find up there — perhaps you’ve seen the related collage, no?” He turns to Baker Bloch for a possible answer.

“I don’t know.” Baker, in turn, turns to Old Mabel. “How far up have you been in the Fal Mouth Moon?”

Old Mabel realizes she hasn’t ascended past the 2nd or 3rd floor of the 7 story building, the largest in Collagesity. “Not all the way,” she admits.

“The collage Hucka Doobie is referring to is at the very tip top,” he then says.

“Field trip!” yelps Hucka Doobie, noisily plopping his knife and fork down on a plate filled with perch skeletons.

snapshot8748_021c

—–

“There it is Old Mabel,” Baker Bloch says, indicating the Whitehead Crossing hole Hucka Doobie referenced earlier. Old Mabel sits down directly in front of it for further study. Hucka Doobie is looking at an image of an oblong blue “12 Oz Mouse character” partially hidden by a Crossing tree.

snapshot8749_004b

Old Mabel coincidentally stares at the same character positioned in front of the hole, full figure this time. Both mouth the same thought at the same time.

“A peanut?”

—–

“And of course there’s Rhoda, a bartender in our world and that world both,” explains Baker Bloch further along in his “12 Oz Mouse” spiel. “I’m not sure if he’s been up this far in the Fal Mouth Moon either. Have to make a mental note to ask him the next time we’re over at Joker’s Wild.”

“I want to hang in Collagesity more, Baker Bloch,” states Hucka Doobie. “Where’s Baker Blinker tonight?”

“I don’t know. Maybe at her house, the Gloomy Gus?”

“Strange she’s not a part of The Table.”

“She and Wheeler don’t really get along that well.”

“Karoz,” says Hucka Doobie.

“Yup.”

—–

snapshot8749_008

“So there’s Carrcassonnee as Fitz the Mouse himself staring at Peanut,” says Baker Bloch to Old Mabel, seeing her still interested in that part of the collage. “He’s holding a corndog. That’s reference to Roostre.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, that’s reference to the Roostre character of ’12 Oz Mouse’.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this *Roostre* before?” she demanded.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0416, Heterocera, Rubi^