Tag Archives: Arthur Kill/Lemont SanfordGTAV^*+++++%%

Newt

“It’s kind of weighed heavily toward the west,” W/India (?) spoke of the illuminated pins on the big Nautilus map in de skies, indicating recent activity.

“What’s your suggestion?” But then Axis-Windmill or whoever realized it was staring him in the face. Yd Island. Island of Babylon here on this map generated by another.

But then he realized that maybe the highlighted pins weren’t as random as they seemed. Nightsity is directly above Squared Root City, for instance, and they appear basically next to each other in the text of this here photo-novel (delete discussion of number).

—–

He found himself walking out of a hospital back onto the mean streets, the surgery to remove the points from his ears a total success. Only present girlfriend, future wife Wheeler Wilson had sent him a get well card but that was enough. Reno, it will cost you Reno, they said about the fee. He watched a man die there and it could have been him. He had no choice.

He recalled the dog that was also a spider. 8 shoes on the steps of a porch. A bird indicates. He is driving in a car procured from the Mountain in the Air, red in color and 57 in number, as in years (this time). But it was not him. Not really. The ears, the ears! he understood, sensing the overlap, the fading out and then the fading in. They’ve changed *everything*.

(to be continued)

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left is right

“You don’t understand these people, Shelley. They are *powerful*. He’s over there with his new girl, *plotting* things. Things that can’t be stopped.”

“*I’m* his new girl,” said unruffled Shelley to this, assuming a cute pose in her seat opposite Edward. Ben Left Horn and Mona sat across from them in the balcony area. Indeed they were plotting, or at least Ben was plotting and Mona was acting as a sounding board for his ideas. She was good that way. Ben thought she might be a keeper, one of the true harem he was collecting down through the years. And Shelley… perhaps the new queen, he thought. Queen of the cats.

“If you put back on that Crazy Blue outfit you’ll be gone to me, to the world at large,” Edward continued. “This place, this Nightsity, will suck you in.”

“What do you care? Surely,” she thought aloud, “surely not for the benefit of *Arthur* after all you’ve done to him.”

“*You’ve* done to him,” he retaliated, then got back to the main subject. “*Don’t* take the gig, Shelley. You don’t know where it will lead you.”

I want… adventure, she thought, thinking of boring, stuck-in-the-mud Arthur. The Arthur who gasped at every sentence of the draft of her 5th novel, not believing what he was reading. What did he expect? she thought. He was gone *most* of the time these days. It will all come to a Shakesperian end, she surmised, but then quickly forgot — backtracked. Running away from the sunset, running toward the moon, no matter how full and blood red it was, indicating warning. Arthur was still her hubbie, her lubbie wubbie. Edward was just a distraction while he was away on the Omega continent. *Corsica* continent, she then reminded herself, confusing lies with truth again. *I’m* the one involved with Omega, she quickly remembered. Lonelyheart Publishers. They said to *juice* it up a bit — that’s what all those lonely housewives want. An *escape*, and a steamy one at that. So she had to write more detail, each novel becoming more graphic and revealing than the one before. That was the development. She tried to pretend it was deeper characters, twistier plots. But at the bottom she was seeing the writing clear. DEMO. DEMON. Satan at the middle, doing what he does best. Black Lake; starless.

“You know he use to go by Jer,” Edward said to fill the void. “He and his brother switched names, just to confuse the lot of us, the readers I suppose.” He looks for the 4th wall with this, to no avail.

“Horns?” said Shelley.

“Those too.”

(to be continued)

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00370406 (party 06)

“Soo *Edward*,” half giggled Penny Mart at the table. The salad Benjamin Bright tossed was about to be served again, like it had 16 times before in his short life as an animesh cook from Drakaina. “What’ve you been doing with yourself lately?” Obviously Penny had a crush on the handsome boy with his rugged features. Housemate Sandy Hook on the other side of him too. Across-from-him Shelley wasn’t jealous of the attention paid to her escort to the party by what she thought were prettier girls than herself. Not really. And, anyway, she could make this part of her romance novel. She was almost 1/4th into her 5th. Hubby Arthur didn’t know about all those things yet.

“Oh, this and that, here and there,” he vaguely answered with a smile, soaking in the admiration. He was also still basking in the victory over Sandman down at the docks. Shelley, with her ultra sharp Umbrella Club funded eyes, saw it all from her chair at the house. Edward didn’t know about those things yet — couldn’t see them from his angles of observation; hadn’t hit the right light yet. Starless. Bible black.

Shelley reviewed it in her mind as Edward kept talking about recent frivolities: the face to face confrontation, the lack of presents in the boat, and then, from even a further distance, this Amos T. Sandman, as he called him afterwards, opening the final present to find a box within the box. Lavender. This was foreshadowing pure and simple.

Edward was finished. He looked over, suspicion in his own eyes, although he didn’t know what of yet. Just a hunch. That girl is up to something, he knew.

(to be continued)

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00370316

“Where have you *been*, Shelley? They’ve taken everything — all the downtown — except for this uppermost store. I don’t think they know how to work the stairs to get here.”

“What’s happened?” she tried to ask as innocently as possible. Because she is fresh off from pressing the big red button up in the Uplands. We’re back in the present present.

“The *military* is what happened, Shelley? Where’ve you *been*?” he pressed. Continuation.

Shelley talked Arthur into going inside before it was too late. “Buy the biggest and the brightest for me,” she said about the displayed diamond quartz rings, knowing it would be the last thing she could credit to the house. “For our renewed vows — you never got me another one, you know.”

Fate; synchronicity. The military reached the top of the stairs just as they were leaving with it. They brusquely brushed past them and entered the store, shooting up everything they could see. $499,000 was a lot but not enough to save everything downtown, as it turns out. Sandman had his dark dark wish fulfilled: traitor to his own kind.

(to be continued)

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party continuation

“You better get back to your Edward, Shelley, and I should get back to my packing.” Because even at this early stage he knew it was no good for keeping the Nautilus residence. 1st thing to be boxed was his pride, his ego. $499,000 dollars is a lot of money but he figures he’ll need just that to save the downtown area from the military. Because the alarm *will* be sounded, somewhere and sometime soon. His personal Sandsim police force will be usurped. Suspect 102, as they called her/him/it, must be found and interrogated for the cause.

“I only ask one thing, *Jennifer*,” for he already thought of her as a cash cow and not a real person, “is when you find it — press the button. That’s all I ask for free lodging, food, haircuts, pedicures manicures, anything you like from any of the shops and other locations. Look where noone thinks of looking. They’ve made sure I can’t be the one…”

“… to do it, yes,” spoke Shelley. “So you’ve said.”

“I’m warm weather, Shelley — I meant Shelley back there, sorry. Remember that.”

“Hmm.”

She’s weighing her options. She can’t bring Edward — that was made clear. It would have to be Arthur accompanying her (speaking of ‘hmm’). She’d forgotten all about Lemont, the actor behind the character, when making the decision. “Sold.” She extended her hand for a shake. Too bad he didn’t have a vanilla hidden in his back pocket to meet it with. Just for a joke, mind you. But she was too precious for all that. She *was*… the golden one, the one to make the change. He could see it in her eyes, all umbrella-y and such at this particular angle in the night’s light. All the books in the world resided there. No need for a library, although that’s where he’ll meet her later and reveal himself again.

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hearing

He stared down at her place, trying to take in what he’d just heard. The Void wants to negotiate a price, she said — or hissed.

—–

Shelley was touching up his shape again when they heard it coming out of the tunnel. A bike, but a real one this time, a chopper they call them up in the real world I believe. Aztec Warrior? We’ll see.

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00370312

How appropriate, he thinks. A big purple cube-like thingy has manifest just outside my front door since I lasted visited, sign of The Void of course.

Anyway (he turns), this is the last of my stuff, Nautilus continent home cleaned out. Couldn’t afford it, you see, with the upcoming court battle looming and paying for legal fees, etc. But I know who my real foe is now.

It seems like yesterday I was standing on the back porch with Shelley, inviting her to my sand paradise sim. She came to the party with Edward, who was somewhere just below with the rest of the still raucous crowd, even at half past 1. She explained, fairly early on actually, that her husband was away and he didn’t mind Edward taking care of her in his absence — trusted him just as much as he trusted someone named Keith who was a kind of surrogate father to her, I gathered. Also revealed that she was a writer, which interested me greatly. I happened to be a friend of a friend of one of the upper echelon of Lonelyhearts Publishers over on the *Omega* continent — caught her with a lie on that: she claimed Corsica Prime for the location, where her husband was, actually (she then admitted), looking for roles as big as his ambition and ego, she stated. I’d even heard about one or two of her books, although I couldn’t remember her attached nom de plume. “Jennifer,” she said. “Jennifer Lane.”

He turns back from the memory, red handtruck and hauling the final boxes down to the boat in his mind now. 1st pre-hearing at 7:45 tomorrow morning; gotta give about an hour for prep on that as well. He’ll have to do with around 2 hours sleep, he figures. He can catch up with the dreaming this weekend. Information, pure information. When he can interpret it, pheh. Like last night with the avocado.

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00370309

After 36 successful romance novels about Edward and a lot of others, she was rolling in cash; could literally make herself an angel in the floor with it.  But she was no angel. Demon instead — she knew this deep down in her heart, despite what surrogate father Keith B. told her back at the beginning of section 01. She’d sold her soul; ground angel she was in the end. Worthless.

—–

After waking up and reviewing the dream, she decided there was only one thing to do. Tell Arthur about Edward. No, not the *actual* truth. The reality in the novel, 5th in a series. If she did, maybe she could nip what was coming — blooming — in the future in the bud. She had to pull a Barney Fife.

“There’s someone out there in the dunes — do you see it, Arthur?”

“Mirage,” he waved it off. “I’ve seen it too. Then it disappears if you stare at it enough.”

Sure enough, Shelley watches the illusion fade to wavery nothingness. She turns, tired of facing the huge mountains of sand. She’s in the present. Arthur turns with her.

“We haven’t been to that island over there.”

“No. But I sensed you have a point to make. You hardly touched your dinner.”

“You know I don’t like vegetables.”

“Not the point.” He sighs. Sandman, he thinks. Must ask about Sandman.

“I—” Pause.

“Yess?”

“I… write.”

(to be continued)

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downtown again

“Oh I want *something*.” They’d walked right past the haircut place without speaking. Arthur knew better now. And the tattoo parlor didn’t offer a temptation any longer. That was yesterday’s story — sorry; forgot to record. So today — tonight — was the next store up, but nothing seemed to be for sale; all a jumble.

*This*,” she decided despite the seeming lack of ability to purchase, which Arthur then pointed out again. “This,” she reinforced. “We can find the original creator. Not your bitch,” she read. “Not yet.” The neon cat in the moon seemed to be staring at it too, convincing her. She just had a dream about one.

“How about the fingers making the heart over there,” Arthur tested.

“Nah. Lame. *Gushy*.”

“Hmm.” He’d been uttering that a lot during their, was it a vacation? I guess it had to be. Or a second honeymoon after renewing their wedding vows. Edward might clarify. If we could find him.

“Ahh, got it,” she then said after checking. “All this stuff is by the same creator.”

“Hmm.”

“Just stop it. We’ll have to come back when it’s set up.”

“Just what I was thinking.”

“Next store up?”

He looked at his watch. “Not until tomorrow.”

“Oh *phooey*.”

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recorder

He watches from afar, noting that she may have Winona Ryder eye. Didn’t she just visit a local hair stylist several days before? He knows she did, although not with the results she wanted. The results *they* wanted? It was a question he had to be asking at this juncture in our story.

—–

Back up to “normalcy”.

—–

“Where you been?”

“Oh just riding around the sand.”

“Hmm.”

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