Tag Archives: Bart Simpson


An invisible cartoon boy, Martha Lamb thinks, studying Falmouth 36 once more on the 4th floor of the Fal Mouth Moon gallery. Hugged and loved by a visible cartoon girl with red shoes. Perhaps they are future lovers, or perhaps brother and sister. Maybe he has a defect that hides him from view — a malady — but is loved by his sister still. Odd that I think this, she ruminates.

Then over here, further away in a field, the inversion: girl invisible and boy visible. The “E” on the next collage over blinks on and off. This *is* love; mutual exchanging.

If I could just *reach* into the collage… somewhere about… here.

Or is it here?



So close yet so far. How to get from there…

… to here. Swish away the pain into the ice and snow and make it all go away. Football successfully kicked.


“‘Copyright Protected Image’,” she read from the picture in front of her. “And to think I was going to get rid of all this in Collagesity, Sid my dearest. But now I think it is a gateway to the Great Beyond, fries and liquor be damned.”

“You shouldn’t say that about your church,” Sid offered. “You were so devoted to it before.”

She turned to him. “The Diagonal changed me, made me into a true woman. I was like two-dimensional before. *You* changed me.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that…”

“All that’s left is the hand and how to break through. Without pain. They say that there’s no gain without pain, but I’m thinking of something else.”

“Yeah, Martha. I need you to listen tonight.”

She went on. “It’s the 36th collage of this series all right. I’ve been studying it nightly for going on half a week now. The Diagonal is giving me energy to understand.”

Sid grabbed her hand in order to stop her. “Listen, Martha. We need to talk. About The Diagonal.” He let go of her hand. “We can’t use it in that way any more.”

“No?” Her voice was suddenly far away, as across a field.

“No,” he said firmly. “I need to tell you the story of who I really am, how I really got here. It all started with the firing.”

“Firing?” Tears formed in her eyes despite her efforts. “What firing?”

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Filed under *Second Life, Rubi


“We should tell Tessa the truth, Monsieur Gold,” she spoke after finishing her meal.

“You mean that we are actually brother and sister as well as husband and wife, Madame Silver?”

“No — although that may be handy later on.”

“That the killer sharks she is so fond of are actually whales?” he guessed again.

“No, not quite yet on that one either. She’s having so much fun with them, and she detests whales as you know. Considers them noisy.”

“They should have never bought her that Engelbert Humpbackdinck record at such a tender age.”

Right.” She picked up her sterling silver fork nervously and then set it down again. “No, I think it’s time to talk to her about the experiment, Monsieur.”

“The one that went right, or the one that went wrong, Madame?” he asked.

“The latter.”

“Ahhh,” he uttered, thinking back…

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island


Lisa the Vegetarian was very disappointed to learn that rumors of her brother Bartholomew living on New Island turned out to be false. All witnesses had seen was this flattie replica sold for L$30 in a popular northern island store. After manifesting the demo, she and Fisher stayed inside a yellow caution ribbon to avoid getting run over by the fast skating figure. “Soooo, does this mean you’ll be leaving the island soon?” Fisher had to ask, prompting Lisa to reply, “We’ll see.”

While there, Fisher pretends to become the victim of a crime scene. Bernard the Bear, shopping for 4th of July gifts for his relatives — flattie Tasmanian Devil for Uncle Lester, a Roadrunner for Aunt Samantha, etc. — gets in on the fun as well.

But it was Snoppy as the Red Baron, along with accompanying doghouse, that Fisher decides to purchase today.

Lisa settles for a Yellow Submarine demo. She needs to save her money for traveling expenses. Already she’s planning to call cousin Eleanor in Corsica’s Fisher Rigg to see if she can moor her houseboat there for at least a couple of days. “Bad news about Bart,” she imagines telling Eleanor in her head. “Still on the lam.”

Fisher Rigg, hmm, she then considers. Any possible relation to *this* Fisher? *And*: should she take him with her?? Could it already be time for him to leave New Island?

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island


Just at that moment, there came a gentle tapping from the direction of the only window in the cottage. All looked around, and Lily clapped her hands in excitement. “Peter’s here,” she spoke just above a whisper.



Meanwhile, skateboarding Bart had slipped off this side of the moon, already in West Pole. Soon Peter and friends would follow.


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Filed under *Second Life, ., Heterocera, Rubi


Jack and Bendy emerge from the drift into South Park South Pole.


“Hellooo! Anybody home? Oh there’s Polly over there beside the cottage, Bendy,” says Jack, pointing in the appropriate direction.

“You mean Prissy?”

“Oh, right. Prissy Pollypants, correct.”

“Don’t say it backwards again, jeez. She’s very fussy about her name.”

“I know. I remember.” Jack calls Prissy’s name directly from below but she still doesn’t answer. The mergirl’s attention is fixed by something on the side of the house. Jack and Bendy walk up and stare with her. It’s Bart again, with a number of fish balloons attached to his skateboard now.



Prissy shakes her head as if just awakening from a dream. “What? Oh it’s you Jack. Hello! And hi, Bendy. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, since the whale and squid thing.” He thinks back again to that awful day and shakes his own head. The whole moon must have been there to witness the event. “You are looking good today,” he says, studying her now. “Very good.” Too good, Bendy thinks further. What just happened to him?


“Thank you.” Prissy’s cheeks blush slightly as she returns her stare to the chimney. “He just wafted in. After the light in the sky. I couldn’t stop staring at him jiggling back and forth on that skateboard. I guess I fell into a trance.”

“That’s okay, Prissy,” Jack reassures her. “You’re okay now. We’re here with you. But where is Lily? Out on another grave finding expedition perhaps?”

Prissy glances away from the house to the west. No she made herself small and is walking the labyrinth. She’s up to 3 times a day. I guess that’s a good thing. But one might call her…,” and here, Prissy cupped her hand to her mouth and reduced her voice to a loud whisper: “… obsessed.” Then she leaned away and then back, repeating the hand to mouth motion: “… possessed,” she says this time to Jack and Bendy. Then she repeats it once more and follows with: “… demons. The dead, you know.”

“Well, that’s a long standing project, Prissy. We all have obsessions. Me and my sky mapping, Bendy and his constant thoughts of food…”

“I never!” Bendy defended himself, truly embarrassed.

“Ah, simmer down, Bendy,” Jack said, peering over at Prissy who was hiding a giggle. “I was just joking. And then, for example, Bart with his skateboarding. But I’ve not a clue how he got from East Pole to South Pole so quickly. We were just there, Prissy, you understand. *Just* there. Came through the drift of course.”

“Yes. Of course.” Prissy looks down and shuffles her fins. “But I am being such a rude host. Why don’t you come into the cottage and we’ll have some juice.”

“Juice?” the shocked Jack and Bendy say in unison.

“Yes, from the lemons on our lemon tree. Freshly picked this morning. It’s right around the corner. There.” She pointed to it.


Bendy felt like rushing over and kissing Prissy full on the lips. Food on the moon! His dream had come true.

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Heterocera, Rubi

East Pole


They emerged from the drift in front of the famous spool table containing the Minoan Radio. A tinny version of “Skating Away on the Thin Ice of the New Day” by Jethro Tull was playing — nothing really unusual there — but the recording was stuck on the “skating away” lyrics of the chorus, which repeated over and over as in a broken record. Corresponding to this, skateboarding Bart Simpson was himself stuck atop the iris opening implanted in East Pole’s epicenter.

Jack pointed toward the figure. “Look Bendy. Both stuck. Bart is usually darting back and forth and all around this side of the moon when we come here.”

“Yeah, I always half expect to get clobbered by him when I arrive,” adds Bendy. “Skateboarders, pheh.” As they contemplate the meaning of all this, another figure emerges from the drift to their right. It’s Tilie the multi-colored, morally responsible moon maintenance robot. He passes the broken radio without nary a glance and heads straight to Bart. He begins to repeatedly touch the figure with an extended arm. Each time he does, his body changes colors.




He stops when his body only shows 2 colors instead of 3. He mutters a curse. It is only then he sees the still mostly submerged Jack and Bendy on the edge of East Pole. “Oh, beg your pardon sirs,” he says, and then bows in greeting. “I will erase my curse from time and space.”

“It’s no problem, Tilie,” responds Jack, waving the moral mistake off while moving toward the figure and likewise fully emerging from the edge drift. Bendy follows suit. “How is everything? How’s the wife? Ounita isn’t it?”

“Correct,” replies Tilie, wiping his red brow. “She’s fully functional, yes. Recently polished. I can’t even eyeball her in the sun. Blind. How are you fine gents? Bendy, it’s been quite some sidereal time. Maybe since the whale and squid debauchery at West Pole?”

“Yup, I believe that may be it,” Bendy replies, thinking back on that awful day. That’s the last live eating he hoped he would ever witness. And so large and up front!

“The wife Eldwithel didn’t like Jim the Eel whisking him off to Mars on a daggle hunting trip without her consent, ha ha ha. First she sucked his eyeballs away and then took her tongue and… but I can tell from the charged expressions on your face that I’m going too much into fine detail for good senses once more. The woof and warp of a maintenance bot’s lives, eh?”

They all sit around the spool table facing the radio and catchup with each other. All goes well until Tilie attempts to explain what’s wrong with this pole. “It’s the sun and his shiny cache of roman’s numerals, two and seven and seven and two. It’s the lemon, sweeter than normals with pits for eyes that make you jump back and screech ow without complaint. Sky lumber jacks mustard into thin air. The lady sings fatly.”


Jack stares at him. “So that means we can’t stay here for any length of time.”

“No bleeping still life way you can’t! Hamlin Garland realism in a cussword genie bottle. Apologies once more!”

“It’s no problem again, Tilie.” Jack turns to Bendy. “Well, that looks like it.” Jack stands up from the spool table and motions Bendy to do the same. “Tilie, we bid you farewell, then, and wish you luck on your repairs.” Tilie rises and bows in parting without speaking further.

“What was *that* all about?” Bendy queries after they reach a certain distance and begin to enter the drift again. “Mustard,” Jack responds, holding steady to the seam. “Mean and mad.”

Both are safely within the drift and aimed toward South Pole when Bart’s yellow head blows up like a fish.

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Filed under *Second Life, Heterocera, Rubi