Wanda the Lower Minoan approached perhaps the only one who knew what really happened to the village on March 17th, 1968, the day the trees began to die.
And he has a familiar face.
“I like your sandals,” says Wanda in a different dream.
Tag Archives: Baker Bloch^*++@
Of the Irish
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0318, Heterocera, Rubi
Entrance
“For the life of me, Old Mabel, I can’t *see it*.”
“I’m saying: turn around please Baker Bloch. You’re looking the wrong way. Look at where *I’m* looking.”
“I *am* Old Mabel. “Nothing is there. Nothing at all.”
“Something is appearing inside,” said Old Mabel, peering down.
—–
“Then I woke up, Baker Bloch. Another dream about the forest. At the tree where Urch disappeared 2 nights before. 125/125.”
“The big eucalyptus tree, yeah. Big enough to hide a man the size of me inside.”
“That tree is a portal.”
“Maybe they all are,” responds Baker. “The eucalyptus, the brown cypress, the green cypress. All along that line. And then Unch himself (or herself) at 168/168. Still haven’t met Unch, er, face to face?”
“No.”
“How about now?” Baker offers. “It’s nighttime after all.”
“You guys aren’t talking about those woods again, are you?” asks Furry Karl, walking up with another Krings beer for Baker Bloch. “I still don’t like that kind of talk in my bar. I’m up here in SoSo Mall because of it. Just to get a *little* further away from those trees. So they can’t listen in. Careful with that wine glass, baby doll,” he then says to Old Mabel. “It’s been Spillsville around here.”
“I will,” she replies, and then looks at Baker Bloch again. A vision of a double headed Winfield flashes through her mind. Fused. Fire. So much fire.
“I suppose you heard Karoz is back,” says Karl, changing the subject. “Back from space. Still doing the bidding of that demon Wheeler.”
“Shhh,” reprimands Baker. “Don’t say that too loud.”
‘What… *demon*?” speaks Karl defiantly. “She’s over on that island of hers now. She can’t hear us. The *woods* might be able to hear us, but she can’t. I think we have bigger problems if people are starting to dream about that place. It’s 1968 all over again. Treestock.”
“You know so much about local history, Karl,” says Baker.
“I do,” responds Karl quickly.
“Someone should interview you,” completes Baker.
“I’ll do it,” volunteers Old Mabel, raising her hand. Baker wonders if she might be a little drunk tonight. She’s not use to drinking wine, but she purposely spurned her usual lemonade, saying she needed to lay off the sweets to see if it was affecting her dreams. Maybe she’s just trying to numb her brain into a good night’s sleep.
“Well, that’s awfully sweet of you deary.”
“I’m *serious*,” she emphasized. “I want to do it. Let’s set up a date now, while we’re talking about it. If we wait it might be too late.”
Baker thinks he sees Old Mabel sway a bit in her seat. “Maybe we better get you home,” he says, standing up.
Old Mabel shakes her head. “I’m not going back home. I’m not laying down on that couch. I’m not *dreaming* tonight. I don’t want to dream. I want to stay awake. Baker, please stay awake with me. Until sunrise. Then everything will be all right. It’s 2 o’clock now. Sunrise in 3, 4 hours. Stay with me. Hold me.” She falls from her stool and softly sprawls out on the floor. “I’m okay,” she declares, but can’t get up.
“Come on Mabel,” says Baker, offering a hand. “Let’s go home.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0317, Heterocera, Rubi
S x SW
“A gap in the south-southwest,” Baker thinks while within this circle of 8 rocks in the Slosser sim, only a couple hundred meters south-southwest (!) of Collagesity (as he found out a little later). The parcel is Lost Garden owned by the SL Public Land Preserve, dedicated to, “help keep SL spaces open,” according to the parcel description. Baker Bloch immediately joins the group for L$5.
Clicking the profile link of the rocks’ creator, Garvie Garzo, brings him quickly to a sim called New Moon. Here he uncovers a duplicate set of rocks on an island in a western archipelago. Cool. He now sees each of the 8 stones is penetrated by a individualized sword. Here are the attached names:
Mawrth Mageblade
Silverlight of Wranws
Longsword of Iau
Daear Diamond Sword
Neifion Lightbringer
Sadwrn’s Shadowsteel
Mercher Spellblade
Burning Sabre of Gwener
In their midst is this central lower rock containing sculptures of the sun and the moon with stylized human faces, the great opposition of masculine and feminine energies. And Baker Bloch keeps in mind that this is the New *Moon* sim, named for a monthly phenomenon where the Earth blocks the moon from receiving the sun’s enlightening rays.
Between the stylized sun and moon lies an object called the Mirror of Darkness, perhaps standing for the Earth itself. Then in front of this is a book with the description of “The Taika Altar”, which doesn’t sound like a title. Baker is checking…
Here it is (!): http://www.madpeagames.com/return-of-the-light-gacha-set/
So this is the “Book of Taika”. Baker has to purchase the set! But before running off to a store location provided by that link above, he looks over the rest of the archipelago. Not a lot there, but a twisting orange and pink “bridge” attempting to span a couple of the islands caught his eye above all else (name: “net bridge fail”).
“Orange, hmm,” Baker muses. He attempts to teleport to the store but disappointingly finds its location currently blocked. Baker tries to contact Wheeler for advice, but, as usual, she is “away”, perhaps bumming around that new island she’s been on about for a day or so. New Island — New Moon. “Hmm,” again.
Couple more shots from the New Moon archipelago:
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0315, Heterocera, New Island, Rubi
Rubis and Sylver
“We have to lend all our resources to Old Mabel. She’s on to something. A definite trail through the wilderness.”
“Strange that Chesterton the Librarian would skateboard into her and blow her up,” Baker Blinker responded, referring to very disturbing and lucid dream Old Mabel had the previous night.”
“Maybe she was just trying to wake herself up… so she could remember more of the dream’s details. But she was quite rattled. I reinforce: she thought it was real within the dream. She thought she actually died. She felt her soul depart from her body. She floated up up up. Back to Mars. Little was there. He was dead as well.”
“Awful. And your other theory — about Little contacting Old Mabel through Jiff?”
“Well — before he departed through the woods portal with Brenda — you know, the giant female warrior, and, some say, his lover — Jiff insinuated to Old Mabel that he is a probable Little trapped in a different body.”
“Say that again?” Baker Blinker requested.
“I said, Jiff stated to Old Mabel on the day of his departure that he was her brother Little Big trapped in a different body. Not quite reincarnation, he emphasized, but related to it. All that he knew was that he was Little, another warrior but from a different era.”
“He could be delusional,” a realistic Baker Blinker proclaims.
“Possibly. But Old Mabel is leaning toward believing him. Jiff said he would return in several weeks, which would be considerably longer for him and Brenda in their timeline. They too have a battle to fight, but he wouldn’t give specifics. He hinted around that Rubi demons were involved again. And the Sylver Forest.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0310, Heterocera, Rubi
Swinging but not driving…
A sunset swing helps Old Mabel prepare for another potential rough night of dreaming.
At the appropriate moment, she slides off and looks for Unch. The sun had just disappeared under the horizon.
“Can’t quite spot him from here if he’s there,” she says to herself in a low voice. “Or her,” she tacks on dutifully. Seven o’clock: time to meet Baker Bloch at the Joker’s Wild. Much to talk about!
—–
“Hmm,” Baker Bloch says, landing just north of the mall while attempting to teleport directly inside. “Old Mabel clearly said this graffiti read: Soos.”
—–
“You’ve dreamed about Chesterton the Librarian before haven’t you?”
“On a number of occasions,” answers Old Mabel, She swirls her lemonade around in its glass. “Night before, he was in a corner of my living room loudly munching on some delicious puffed cornmeal product.”
“In the Small House or Big House?”
“I’ve started to call them Old House and Big House. Because one was born 5 minutes after the other.”
“Ahh,” Baker responds, understanding this is a reference to her, Old Mabel, and her slightly younger twin brother Little Big. Nothing to do with the actual history of the houses in all likelihood.
“But it was Old House. That was the dream I talked to Spongebill Triangleslacks, Snowbob’s great uncle. Did you know he called him grunkle instead of great uncle? Another bleedthrough from that show.”
“Which we need to talk about in some detail, Old Mabel,” Baker says from his stool. “Map the comparisons out. But whether you believe me or not, the concept of The Bill predates finding out about the show. I didn’t make the link until early November, I believe, when, um, I retrieved that diary out of the library for Wheeler. Number 3,” he clarified. “The original find.”
“Just like Dipper first found the 3rd diary in, er, his *own* show. Not *inside* a tree, but the mechanism triggering the release of the trap door in the ground is found in the tree. It’s metal in the show. I don’t think Unch is made of metal.”
Baker pondered what Old Mabel had implied. “Unch is the source of the diary — I suppose that could make sense.”
“Maybe all 3 diaries which are actually one conglomerate work,” Old Mabel adds. “Three-in-one.”
—-
Meanwhile, Unch tries to listen in from the the woods but can’t quite spot them.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0309, Heterocera, Rubi
most likely probably still
9:30 pm.
“The usual please, Furry Karl.”
“Coming right up, Baker Bloch.” Karl reaches into the cooler behind him a pulls out a tall can of Krings, popping it open and positioning it on the counter. Baker partakes.
“Ahh, good beer after a long hard day of work, eh Karl?”
“I suppose. I don’t drink myself.”
“Oh right,” says the male Baker. “The farming incident.”
“And the prostitutes. And killing that guy over in Bennington… besides all the other stuff done there.”
“Well, that’s all red liquid under the bridge for you Furry Karl. Clean sweep in this here Collagesity. New beginnings. Here’s to new beginnings.” He raises his beer.
“I can’t toast with you, but I’ll second that anyway. Listen, um, Baker. I can’t really talk much tonight. As you can see (Furry Karl looks around), the bar’s pretty busy.”
“I noticed that. Demon Days.”
“Yup. Gates of hell opened wide this weekend.”
Baker Bloch also looks around. “None in here at the moment I can spot, though.”
“Oh, they’ve been here. The mall’s been invested with them. Especially the Santas. I’ve counted at least 3. So… enjoy yourself here. Drinking alone tonight?” Furry Karl tacks on.
“No. Old Mabel will be joining me. We’re going to talk about her new living quarters — Spongebub’s former home.”
“Good, good.” A bald headed demon enters the bar and sits down at the last stool; starts to play computer cards as both Furry Karl and Baker try not to stare. “Okay, gotta run,” Karl says, moving toward him.
—–
11:15 pm.
“I’m sorry once more I’m so late, Mr. Bloch. It’s just that Unch was there (!). I could see him finally. And from that perch on the southwest corner.”
“Next to Perch, yeah you told me.”
“Sorry.” Old Mabel realized that she was repeating herself in the excitement. “I dare not fully approach him yet. It is a him, correct?”
“I haven’t really thought about it,” Baker responds. “I’m not sure he’s — or she’s — anything. Like the typical plant, I suppose. Minus ferns?”
“Mosses, maybe,” Old Mabel offers. “I’m still getting familiar with terra firma flora and fauna.”
“Right. You should have been here earlier, Old Mabel. Place was jumping. I think Furry Karl will be alright in this new location. It’s just so… in the middle of things.”
“Malls are special places,” agreed Old Mabel, taking a sip of her lemonade. “Well lighted. You can accidentally bump into your friends and neighbors without having to telephone them up.”
“Good point,” agrees Baker. “You get the social niceties out of the way without a social commitment.”
“I’m learning your ways.” Old Mabel smiles at him, studying his rugged orange face and dead white eyes. Yes, he’s still most likely the one, she thinks. Despite demon Jiff offering to change over his body to a larger and greener variety. Despite Snowbob and the day before yesterday. In the closet.
—–
1:00 am.
“You’re so strange, having to sit with your back to the wall if anyone else is in a room with you.”
“One demon left around,” Baker Bloch whispers to Baker Blinker. “And it has to be here.” The small cyan demon squeaks in return — good ears on this one.
“Good that Old Mabel is getting adjusted. Maybe now she can get over this dislike of Wheeler, since she’s getting over, well, *you*.”
“I don’t think she likes Wheeler impersonating me at times,” Bloch agrees.
Baker Blinker sighs. “So where does that put *us*?”
“Same ol’ same ol'” the male Bake responds. “We are the parents of all that’s around us.” He waves his arm.
“I don’t think Karoz is coming back,” Baker Blinker says, tears starting to form in her eyes.
“Oh sure he is,” Baker Bloch attempts to comfort. “Wheeler’s probably sent him off on some crazy assignment to retrieve an ancient diary again.”
“She’s still looking for Number One, yes,” a sniffing Baker Blinker agrees, taking a sip of coffee with a shaky hand. “Muff-Bermingham was a bust. Plus the war started while we were there. Greens versus Grays. The one Little is involved in. A shame Old Mabel hasn’t heard a thing from him since he left.”
“Hasn’t she?” The male Baker eyes the female Baker knowingly.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0303, Heterocera, Rubi
Bogota 08?
“It’s a shame about Snowbob’s mother. Surely he knows, along with the father.”
“They know that she’s on assignment in Corsica, Old Mabel, and something has happened. Mr. Owens just came from Corsica and the sim in question.”
“I did. I just got information that I may not be returning,” spoke the chef/detective. “The filly I was tailing got wind of my investigation and set sail in the middle of the night. I may be staying here a bit longer than I planned. But the new mystery has got its claws in me now. It’s that book.” He pulled the stained slip of paper out of his pocket and opened it in Baker Bloch’s direction. “Pill,” he repeated. Baker Bloch could clearly see the word. It was the third time he had shown it to him. Yes, his interest was certainly piqued. “In the wine,” he added. “Wine,” he emphasized.
“Yeah, we’ve known something odd was going on (in that direction) for a long, long time Mr. Owens — Kenny. I might as well start calling you Kenny since you may be staying with us a while. The main question for now is: why did the giant female show up in the middle of the sim in question and play a game of roshambo with the tiny Minoan who is now Old Mabel’s good friend? Then why did that somehow open up a door or window or something into the place beside the motel you were staying in and allow (us) a glimpse into the firey death of Snowbob’s poor mother caused by this Jerome fellow? Who is Jerome T. Newton? He’s obviously a killer. Then there’s the burnt-to-a-crisp cow across Robin Lane.”
“I’ll talk with the giant,” said Old Mabel, sitting on the floor between the two and still staring up at the newest Bogota collage, at its central Snowmanster and what might have been. Christmas. “She’s got a name, by the way: Brenda. Jiff — the tiny Minoan you speak of — and Brenda are friends.” More than friends she almost said, but decided not to reveal that whole story yet. So big and so small. How does that work? she asked herself yet again.
Kenny yawned and stretched his arms. “I guess I better head back over to Collagesity North and get some shut eye now; have to get up early for the interviews with Snowbob and his father. ‘Preciate you showing me around the galleries tonight. Weird I’m in them. I know more. I must digest.”
Goodnights all around after that, with Baker Bloch and Old Mabel remaining in front of the newly hung Bogota 08 as Kenny teleports downstairs.
“He knows too much,” said Baker to the Martian.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0209, Bogota, collages 2d, Cricket, Heterocera, Rubi
Red Read
“Father, when will mother be joining us?” asked Snowbob the man-child.
“Corsica,” indicated the father. “Corsica, Corsica, Corsica!”
“She’s not going to be here anytime soon. Is she?” The father doesn’t answer this time. Both stare blankly into space.
Snowbob is beginning to theorized his family won’t be staying in Collagesity long. The house payment hasn’t gone through yet. Their furniture is still in storage. Even though he manged to get the main gate to the property open yesterday, there was still some kind of invisible barrier that he had to jump over to come inside — a sign. And his father’s skin had turned from yellow to green. A mysterious malady, because he seems perfectly normal. But Snowbob keeps recheckeding his father’s outfit list behind him. Always green skin instead of the previous yellow. Yellow is missing. Yellow is missing!
—–
I’ve got to solve this case so I can get out of here! thought Owens, wearing the mantle of private detective now.
Tired of staring at roshambo images, he sat down at The Table and enjoyed more leftover wine from the diner. By this time he was drinking straight from the bottle. “Reading anything interesting?” he asked Curled Paper across from him, trying to start up a conversation once more. “‘Winesap’? Sounds intriguing.” But Curled Paper still said nothing (his light was off). Paper, he then thought. Curled Paper. Another clue?
“I wonder where The Librarian went?” he tried again. “He always seems to be here, sitting.”
“Bathroom break, let’s say,” then uttered Tin S. Man in his low voice from the left. “It takes him a while.” Owens had forgotten the metal being was alive. Someone to talk to while he drinks. Nice!
“Well, er… what do I call you?” He squinted up at the giant’s kind face.
“Tin S., please. Like the game. Like the sport. It’s always love something for me. My ego and aggression are always zeroed out.”
“Well that’s fascinating, Tin S.,” Owens spoke while taking another sip of wine from his bottle. “So rude,” he then said of himself, lifting the bottle toward Tin S. Man. “Want any?”
“I cannot drink wine, only oil. Wine makes me tipsy. When I fall down, I cannot get up because of my massive weight. Only oil please. Do you have a bottle of oil?”
“Not on me, no. Maybe later. Listen, Tin. S., how did you get here? I mean, why are you at The Table along with the others? Old Mabel mentioned you were a famous musician inside that outer casing. Dave something. Davis?”
“Davies,” corrected Tin S. Man. “That is a true inner form, yes.” He paused.
“What’s the purpose of all this?”
Tin S. Man moved his joints slightly, then asked a question back: “What do you know of our user?”
“I know that Baker Bloch is the main channel for the user who goes by the same name.”
“Baker B., close enough,” said Tin S. Man.
“And… um, I guess The Table, as far as I understand, represents a gathering of variants, mainly musicians like yourself, who have, er, *donated* their work to a greater whole. This Table.” He then knocks on The Table to reinforce his answer.
“Are you staying in town long enough to attend the next Table meeting?” asked Tin S. Man.
“I *hope* not,” returned Owens. He needed to get back to the roshambo images. Something about that yellow hand. Paper. Switch. He pulled the little, wine stained slip of paper from his coat pocket and read it again. This is the one found in Baker Bloch’s own wine. “Pill” is all it said.
“Reading anything interesting?” The giant smiles.
—–
Meanwhile, over at the Red Umbrella…
“That’s him alright. Owens.”
“And over in Boos as well,” added Old Mabel.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0207, Heterocera, Rubi
Paper.
It was night again. Jerome’s time. Seats were still cold and warm. Icy fire.
“Let’s take you somewhere and put you to work, Mr. Author — Mr. Detective. How about Perch, hmm? Wait… that’s currently closed for ceiling repairs. Blue Feather it is!”
—–
(meal joined in progess)
“I can’t eat another single shrimp, Baker Bloch, despite it being on the house. I wonder if our waiter would enjoy taking it home with him. Oh, this must be the chef.”
“I’m so sorry about the paper in your wine,” he began, hands wringing. “I hope you are enjoying the free extra food and drink. Anything else we can get you here at the Blue Feather? Anything at all.”
Baker Blinker looked him over from head to foot, noticing a small red stain on the right pocket of his rather rumpled coat. “We’re fine, Mr. — what’s your name again? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”
“I’m new,” he replied. “I’m Mr. Owens. Amateur chef by day, professional sleuth by night. Here’s my business card.” He reached into his right pocket, hesitated and perhaps turned slightly red (?), then switched hands to procure the promised paper from the left.
“Cool,” responded Baker Blinker, taking the card. “Interesting first name.”
“It’s Irish. Call me Kenny. I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your dinner. Your waiter Andrew will return in just a moment to check on you. Have a nice remainder of the evening.”
“Thank you,” said Baker Blinker, nodding at him.
“Yes, thanks,” added Baker Bloch.
—–
15 minutes later…
“Did you make the switch?” asked a fidgety Newton back in Collagesity North again.
“Yeah,” responded the declared chef/detective. “Can I go home now?”
“Not quite.”
A cow suddenly burst into flames across Robin Lane.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0206, Heterocera, Rubi
Rock?
—-
“So this is the new spotlight.”
Baker Bloch exclaimed yes (!) to Baker Blinker.
“Can you turn it off without deleting the prim?” she asked, becoming blinded.
“Make yourself headless,” requested Baker Bloch.
“What?”
“Just do it. For a moment.”
“Alright, weird-o. Hold on. Give me a moment to rummage through my inventory.”
“Hold on,” said Baker Bloch as well. “I’ll just give you mine.”
“Oh,” spoke Baker Blinker, observing the added inventory. She showed and wore.
“Interesting. Not there yet.”
“Not where yet?” asked a confused Baker Blinker.
“The Neighbors. Spongebub and Snowmanster and their man-child. Spongemanster?”
“Snowbob?” corrected Baker Blinker. “The new guy at The Table?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Which we’re actually here to talk about.” She paused; restored herself. “You start.”
“No you,” he insisted.
“Together, then. 1,2,”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0203, Heterocera, Rubi
Sunklands 