Tag Archives: Aunt Ginger^^~~

Alysha

“She’s always over there just staring at the fire, waiting for him to come home and tell her what to do. Robot, I say. Completely controlled. *I* was the rebel. He didn’t like that.” She paused in her soliloquy to take a drag off her cigarette, a Virginia Slim I believe, long and lean on smoke. She blew what little she had away from the child sitting next to her, then turned. An Asian, she thinks. Just like Sally over there at the Coast Guard building. Could it be? She packed those suspicions away and sent them down a baggage conveyor. Nah: impossible. She’s just a lackey, not smart enough to live a double life, much less shrink down to child size if needed. This was just an innocent youth before her, a *friend*. She hadn’t had one of those in a while. Not since Bettie. Or was it Ruth?

So she decides to unload more. Why not: it makes her feel good and that’s what matters in the moment. Another drag off the slim cigarette; another pleasure. Today was the day for enjoyment, since this was her day off from that other job that’s suppose to bring joy but almost always doesn’t in the end. Except for Pete.

“The Fortress, it is called by some. Maybe John.” She stops; another drag, another exhale away from the child.

“Who owns it?” the child dared to venture, picking her openings carefully. She had to keep up the ruse. No time to get cold feet now. That will be later when she ices them down from the hot sand. Azura Beach! She truly loved this little hidden spot with its cute dunes just away from the Airport grounds. But she must remember her real task: digging for information instead of clams, although that would be later as well.

“K.C. some call him. Others: L.A. I think he likes to use the initials of famous cities. Maybe ones he’s visited.” She stares directly over at it, knowing the new gal, if you could even call her that, the robot, would be sitting in there, staring at the flames that would certain consume her just like they did herself. A witch, they called her, and then she had to live in that ditch behind the airport for a couple of months until she was able to at least rent this cottage on the edge of his property. He had at least the dignity to do that. And he’s probably just keeping her around when he gets tired of the new one, with her more ample bosom and brown-not-blue eyes. He tired of blue, he tired of normal. And always with the golf club; might as well be a baseball bat the way he cracks it. Always plays the odd numbered holes and skips the even. Then in the evening he evens it out with the even holes. Complicated man. And she could still spy on him, but of course that’s what he wanted. He wanted her to see the new gal-robot and how he controlled her just as she was controlled. “Look,” he could hear him say with his smokey, deadpan voice in her head, “and learn.”

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0614, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

where’s the beef?

If we could just recreate the original crime scene. Pigeon roosting on ass; Amanda Stoorm placing an ultra important call to Buster Damm.

Call? Looks like we just did. Duncan Avocado brings it home.

—–

“I knew you’d be here, Ginger. Because of the face replacement clinic and all.”

“500 lindens for a whole new look. Worth every penny!”

“Yes, you look great, you look fantastic.” Could Duncan date a high class white chick like this and get away with it in this town, this place in the center of it all? It would be controversial. Maybe *he* should get an operation. He knows a certain Dr. of Mouse who might be able to help. He ponders the outcome, black to white. But is he running away from his heritage because of that? He’s *tired* of being discriminated upon, but he’s in the same boat with the rest of his color. He can’t date fair, red haired Wendy down at Mac’s Diner either for the same reason, that damn white racist rat Pansy watching over it all. If only he could get rid of the Pooping Pigeon franchise, maybe create a reality where Wendy branches out on her on, dumps the hot dog angle, and goes all in for burger. Pure Angus beef; not those ridiculous fillers for the dog like lips and genitalia, even if that isn’t quite true. People could be trained to *think* that.

And that’s what he decided that day in the late of May or early June or whatever. Kill the Hot Dog, stick a pigeon on its rump and call it done. Killer Andrea Stoorm, trained in the Death Star battalions, knew what to do, Buster guiding her and then Buster telling Duncan what actually happened. “We manipulated probabilities in that Middletown alley that day in early May.” “June,” I corrected, but understood it all now. There was only one actual killing, the other 5 being deflections or subterfuge. Although it still thrived in other realities, in this one the Pooping Pigeon was over almost before it started, with Pansy behind bars behind a bar instead.

“What’ll it be Duncan, my man?” Always the “man” for the black dude, he observed. But at least he still played his old music here.

And now: Hidi.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0516, Eveningwood, Nautilus^^, Slaashsides

Neogene. It’s Neogene.

Kolya didn’t usually meet people when he combed the realistic looking beach at… let’s say this is Fieldon again. But he did today. “This is a piece of ginger,” the stranger exclaimed to the man-boy while bending down to pick up something behind a tuff of beach grass. “The first thing I see when I come to the beach and it’s ginger. Imagine that.”

This made Kolya think about Ginger. Where was Ginger? Where was anybody in this land of 2? He needed to focus on the here and now. These realistic rocks might help. He’d seen them before. Fieldon? No, this is Fieldon.

Or was it?

I’ve got to get back to Canada, Kolya thought while kind of panicking in the moment as he realized the person in front of him was mere shadow-like hallucination. I’ve got to find Ginger!

—–

He asked to be centered. He stands on the very edge of the beach, its comber gone. *He* was the comber of course. And this definitely wasn’t Fieldon.

He watched himself walk away from himself in the distance.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0212, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

00260207

“I hear you got a new job over at the airport terminal, Ginger. Life must be treating you good.”

“Just shut the f-ck up while we wait for Snowmanster, Marty.”

“Oooo. Touched a nerve, did I? Life *isn’t* treating you that well.”

“If I had a gun…” she seethed, not daring to glance in his direction, because looks could kill at this point. Plus there was Lemon to deal with. Always in the background: funny foot Lemon, always with the guffaws. She couldn’t ask about him because she wasn’t sure he was alive or dead. Life (and death) is so confusing in this land of 2. Just ask holey headed Kolya, who Marty kind of invented after all, Marty kind of made him up. “Penny Lane,” Ginger realized at some crossroads while they were still living together. “Arnold Layne”! The great 2n1 that started it all. Takes 2 to know. It all fell completely together before it all collapsed utterly apart, with him over there on the couch and she in her bed, sometimes with another after that. Tom the milkman, Ben the paperboy, er, man. Man, she meant there in her thoughts. 18: old enough, or so he said. Then Jake the butcher; the candlestick maker — she even forgot his actual name and he had come over more than once. Unlike One Time Feldon. She remembered his name because of the Oracle. Feldon — Fieldon. He was 30 but didn’t look a day over 10. And the fun they had that one time! “Water’s on!” he called from the bathroom at 5 in the morning. She’ll never forget that line. Then Marty came home early at 6 from one of his blasted solo tours and put a stop to all that. All she had was the once. But it might have been enough, because she had memories. And a hi-fi tape, ha. Yeah, they got back together. Before Ringold came along and drummed him out of the picture again, maybe for good this time. They hadn’t spoken since, but they had to divide the house. Hence the visit here, to the Illuminati once more. Whom Marty vowed that one time back in Spring ’64 that he would never revisit, till death do them part.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0207, Corsica^^, Urqhart^

No Toronto

“What was that destination again, sir?”

“Picturetown,” Kolya answered for Cpt. Margret Coffee. “Thanks for the coffee, Margret, by the way.” (*sip*)

“Call me Captain,” requested Margret, ready to sail the ship, as they say, after her stint at baggage check-in was over.

“Yes ma’am,” Kolya dutifully replied, a Marine brat as a youth and thus use to accepting orders.

“Ginger, you got anything yet?” asked Cpt. Coffee to the receptionist by her side, just back from medical leave for a face replacement.

“No, I’m afraid not. How about Toronto?” she offers. “*Very* popular destination. I’m betting you’ll like it there.”

“It has to be Picturetown,” insisted Kolya, off on one of his tangent tasks. “Try Prince Edward Island.”

“Ahh,” jumped in Cpt. Margret Coffee again. “A beautiful province. Setting for ‘Anne of Green Gables’, you know. You’ll *love* it there.”

“No, not that one, the other one, the other Prince Edward.” Kolya scratches his holey head, at a loss for words beyond this.

“The other Prince Edward… oh you mean the *county*.” Margret had figured that part out. “And *Picton*.” Margret had figured the other part out.

“Picturetown, yes.” Kolya could not pronounce it any other way, no matter how hard he tried to conform. Picturetown it is.

—–

The plane went down somewhere between Otterville and Delhi. That’s how Kolya met the red complexioned Indian fellow named Sam. Sorry: Jerry. He was wearing a lime colored shirt while jogging past a collapsed garage. He also owned a lime hued X 1/9, and stated this route to Delhi was much too dangerous to attempt it by car — too many right angle turns, too much distracting graffiti, especially down at the Indian Lake Creek Bridge, he said. He preferred running it. But he was all up for a lift when spotting the collapsed garage and Kolya just happened to drive by, asking for directions. “Which way does a bird fly to get to Picturetown around here?” he called through the rolled down window, just in time for Jerry to catch it since he was quickly losing steam. He had reached the end of his jogging days. “I’ll show you,” and he sprinted one last time around the side of the car and got in beside Kolya. Soon he had taken the driver’s wheel. The train tracks on the other side of Delhi beckoned. They were going beyond the before.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0203, Canada, Canada/Picturetown, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

Line of Linden’s

He was back in the small Linden woods just across the road from the Active Urban Mall, in turn just north of the Urban ice cream parlor — again, no relation that I know of. Point is, he was as far away from the sweets and especially that cursed strawberry-pineapple swirl as possible while still remaining active. Because he had to to fit into the hole, the whole “fit to fit” thing he’d come up with as a slogan, with posters all over the heart of town now. He’d soon be a true, local hero; he *was* a hero. Thanks to him rescuing those rabbit people over in Kitaro from the fires. But he felt he had an obligation to do that. He was, after all, partially responsible for the bomb destroying their quaint village. It should have hit the ice cream parlor! Oh well, The Line dictates where things hit and don’t hit. Take Kingpost: spared during the Great Civil War between northern and southern Maebaleia/Satori, yet conjoined and resonantly named King’s Stone and Druid’s Post a number of sims to the east were bombed almost back to stone; I’ll try to make a post about that horrible event which created confusingly named Lake Kingpost soon.

The woods were chilly tonight, not like the warm, vanilla colored couch of the ice cream parlor where he could lay his still quite pudgy, off-white garbed self like a baby in a manger. This was roughing it in comparison. No sweets, though — that’s the point. He puts his arms around his torso and shivers, eagerly waiting for the coming of sweet golden dawn.

—–

Elvis Kannelvis woke up. His head had been cleared of the remaining effects of the sweets. Cursed strawberry-pineapple! He realized The Line, amplified by the Linden trees around him — just enough to cause the effect — had made him dream strange things, like the burning of Strange Isle, like the bombing of Kitaro when actually Kingpost in the opposite direction was hit — or was it Kings Stone + Druid’s Post? Yes, the latter (two). That’s the explosion Tealy and Tillie saw that day in early May before their visit to Aunt Ginger in an attempt to right things on The Line. Tealy and Tillie were on The Line; Elvis Kannelvis, especially while in the sweets shop, was on The Line; sweet Wendy Wilson dressed in two different dresses soon to be one was on The Line over at her pirate outpost bar in Kingpost. And then finally Aunt Ginger to the far east, as east as you can go on The Line as Kingpost is to the west (and King’s Stone and Druid’s Post kind of more to the middle). Blue Bear Y and Wanda the Lower Minoan seem to be heading to her camp as well. To get a piece of Ginger, although the two visitors to her island are bickering about the decision. Was Wendy actually named Wanda and a secret miniature? That’s only one mystery awaiting us in Section 07.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0617, Continent's Edge, Gno Kingdom^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Outer Islands, Rubisea, X-City^

TILE VILE

“Arrr. *There* be my three cornered hat. Thank yee for keeping it for me, Saucy Wanda.”

“Wendy,” she replied, use to the bastard pirates getting her name wrong. Especially this bastard pirate. Randolph was his name and magic squares were his game. Especially Jupiter’s right now. He be melancholy lately. Not just because he lost his hat — that was only several hours ago. This be days ago. The tinies on the exact opposite side of the Maebaleia/Satori continent took something from him, but something of much greater value (and he truly loved his hat). Not exactly his pride, although that factored in too.

—–

Elvis Kannelvis was back to training again. He wish someone would just blow up the Urban ice cream parlor over there across the sim line. 15 lbs.! He’d never fit in the hole at this rate. He’d have to cancel the event, lose all that potential money. No… NOT tonight. Back to the woods across the road from the *Active* Urban Mall. And why all those Urbans again in this one small space, he pondered while trying to run even faster at the first whiff of pineapple strawberry.

—–

“Here,” he said while bending over and starting to sort out the gold glass shards. Or was that blue. Red? “Maybe we can put it back together.”

Green now. “No way!” cried Tiny Wanda in her miniature voice to Blue Bear Y. Ginger would, of course, know the difference, despite the giant gummy beast’s fame with fusion energy. They couldn’t put the *colors* back together.

Gold again. Blue.

Red.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0612, Continent's Edge, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Outer Islands, X-City^