Tag Archives: Bestie^*!$

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“It’s simply beautiful here, Barry. But –”

“Why did I wait so long to show you this?”

“Well… *yes*.” It could have help swayed my judgement, she thinks. She could still change her mind, but… a contract was signed. Wendy’s Hot Dog Restaurant is a go! Except switch hot dogs with hamburgers and meat byproducts to just pure beef. Okama talked her into it, just as he talked himself into giving up the dream of taking over the Dream Emulator band and kicking everyone else out except maybe classically trained guitarist No Lag V, which they usually just shorten to No Lag. He’d assume the mayor’s position of Kangarootown instead, recently vacated by disgraced Golden Jim, fired because he’d called the wrong person the wrong name, it seems. Anyway, Okama = Mayor, Okama invites Wendy to open her restaurant in his former K-Town store (basically just a store for mouse traps, he said, waiving off the inconvenience), and then giving her a 25 year month lease on the place for 500 lindens a month. That’s the contract signed; too good of a deal to pass on; had to act fast, she felt, lest he or she changed his or her mind. And her affections returned to Bastard — wherever he is up there on the Red Dead planet. St. Dennis, she’d heard for a possible location. She hadn’t given up hope that he not only lives but thrives, and is just waiting for the right time to invite her up too. Hmm, but she’s locked into a lease now. She better think about a second in command just in case.

“I was waiting for the right time,” Barry finally answered, allowing Wendy’s internal monologue to unfurl in a proper manner. “I thought–”

“We could go steady?”

“Well…”

“Barry. I still have Bastard — you know, Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate.”

“But… he’s dead,” answers Barry to this.

“No, I refuse to believe that.”

“But… they found his *skeleton*, the Red Dead crew did. They *buried* him… out to sea.”

“No. Not true. I *sense* he exists still. I’m just not sure how.”

“All those rumors about him surviving and living in St. Dennis are just that. Fiction — fable. The skeleton in the boat was *his*. There was even his trusty sword to go along with it. Wendy — face it.” He makes her face him. “He’s gone.”

She was tempted to slap him for the stubbornness. But after all, as Okama Majo also pointed out, *he* has Hucka Doobie now. She substituted the slap with that harsh declaration.

Barry quickly looked away, almost as if he’d been slapped anyway. “She’s with someone else, I’ve heard. A Marion Star Harding. Never met the guy. But he predates me, even. Last I heard he’s in Gaston. Do you know of Gaston? I had to learn about it. I learned it from–” He stops. He realizes the irony, the *synchronicity* of the matter.

He recalls piecing together a document about the place. From wadded up papers strewn about his shed near the Pink Motel. Home.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0042, 0616, Castle Town, Gaston^^, Omega^^, RDR2

golden opportunity

Sister Debbie left him in Stoogle to contemplate why a waterfall would be situated in the middle of a wetland. She had to get back to Tyrrell — two “r”‘s you’ll notice, bringing it closer to home North Carolina.

Jerry was there. And he knew how to put out the fire.

“Frying Pan Village,” he spoke over from his position of power on the couch of the centerpiece bar. Dome of purple hair he had, cluing us in to who this really was. “It’s the only way to further this mystery.”

“Frying Pan Island,” she voiced, testing out the sound of the overarching location. Could he be The One? How to break it to Dickie? We were, after all, husband and wife. Before we decided to instead be brother and sister. He’ll take it hard, she decided. He’ll have to go too, she realized.

“There’s… someone else in my life right now,” she ventured.

“Bring him along,” he shot back, all up for a more than 2 relationship. “Or her.”

“Him,” she quickly followed. Would this work?

—–

Besides, he had a friend too. A best friend. A foursome it is.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0110, Frog Isles, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Yd Island^

three

“Is this the book you were talking about, dearest?”

Wives, he thought here. Always meddling in places they shouldn’t be. I’ll have to put a stop to that. So I can still play the field. But Jefferson Thomas warned him about that, along with a bunch of other things. “You’ll have to stop eating soup with a fork,” he chattered. “You’ll have to learn how to drive on the wrong side of the road with the right kind of car,” he rattled on, like a slithering summer snake. On and on, winding and unwinding. Wind him up so he can wind me down: he said that was the reason for his being. I didn’t like Jefferson Thomas at first, and I even liked him less at the end. Best man, *pheh*. I don’t *want* to be tied down,” I screamed. The new wife took the hint. “I’ll be the subordinate one, then,” she said, thinking of a role that would fit her down the road like a velvet glove. “Dearest”, here, “Sweetie”, there. But underneath would be slithering, snapping rage.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0210, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

army of one

Bestie, as I liked to call him, was always the best. He constantly pointed out to me when I was down and out that I was a writer as well as an artist, and to find the balance between the two represented my path in life.

The path between the canvas and the typewriter here led to… Mom? Suisan? I had to find out (again). And to somehow avoid Schuman without the extra N if possible. Don’t piano around with fiddles! I was on my way. “Thanks Bestie!” I called back, thanking him. He tipped his mustard colored metal helmet at me in parting, however brief. He would return. He was almost a constant shadow, as they say, in that I’m able to muster him up in any time of trouble. Like now! How to end photo-novel 25, a series of 1. Forward! (hup hup hup)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0616, Hana Lei^^, The Waste^^

besties

“It’s over, Sandy,” Baker Bloch said from the bench in front of the canvas. The search for All Orange: done.”

“I know,” he speaks over from the game he and Wendy and perhaps several others are playing. Not Carcassonne, but close, because tiles are involved, jigsaw shaped ones in this case, which they are sitting on as well as playing with. They are playing with themselves.

“Whose move, Wendy?” he asks.

“Yours.” They switch jigsaw pieces with each other while Baker continues to stare.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0207, Marwood, NWES Island^