Tag Archives: Bettie/Tonshi Ashokan

dates and plants

For their 5th date, Nancy decides to take Danny to Collagesity, to dine at the exclusive Blue Feather Club. Bettie had told them of Baker Bloch’s open offer to come live here if they ever tire of Olde Lapara Towne. However, upon teleporting in, Danny becomes scared of what’s outside the window and tries to run away. He’s never seen an actual forest with real Linden trees before. They have to return to OLT.

—–

“Don’t you ever get tired of eating cake and dessert?” Nancy asks.

“No.”

Bettie and Buster sat, heads down, at another table in the Clownski establishment. Not praying, but just sharing an awkward moment. It was their first “date” in 771 years.

“We should eat the rosemary sprig that comes with our plates,” Buster then suggested. “Else we won’t get any vegetables tonight.”

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going world? 02

“Rocky is playing a wonderful tune tonight. Cage, you say?”

“Yes. John,” answers Bettie. “‘Suite for Toy Piano.’ Debuted 1948 in Black Mountain, North Carolina. Not far from our user’s home. Very close, say, if it were 5, 6, 7 years down the road. If users are even around. We may be on our own by then. Us down here, alone with our actions, our consequences. Might be nice, Nancy. Just us, this town, its inhabitants. The Atoll Continent as a whole. Sansara can go to hell.”

Nancy frowns. “I don’t know. I like the old continent. We should go visit the climbable beanstalk (in Welsh) sometime.” Rocky’s piano tinkling ends and he gets up.

“Babble,” replied Bettie. Then: “Shush. The rant part of Rocky’s performance piece is starting. Let’s dance while he speaks.”

—–

Each one of us must now look to himself. That which formerly held us together and gave meaning to our occupations was our belief in God. When we transferred this belief first to heroes, then to things, we began to walk our separate paths. That island that we have grown to think no longer exists to which we might have retreated to escape from the impact of the world, lies, as it ever did, within each one of our hearts. Towards that final tranquility, which today we so desperately need, any integrating occupation–music and writing are two of them, rightly used–can serve as a guide.

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going world?

“Rehearsals were already suppose to start, Nancy. We were gonna be stars. That globe would obviously hafta go.”

“I guess we’ll just have to be each other’s star, then.”

“My thoughts exactly. Let’s go get some cake.”

—–

“It’s a very patriotic town, Bettie. But what is this Us of A?”

“It’s a place our user might want to get away from soon. War is brewing. Two little bitty people commanding militaries with their tiny gestures. We’re safe down here. As long as the infrastructure remains.”

She glared over at him again, he with his own piece of delicious cake. It was a small town. Not a lot of restaurants to choose from, for example. They’d keep running into each other. One day they might be friends. But not today. Too much real world mirroring.

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two know

“Well,” determined Little Tonshi Ashokan while staring up at the bottom of the Lapara Airport from her waterfall hammock. “If I can’t have a wife right now I’ll at least try to make some friends.”

She hops off the hammock and begins strolling the Crooked Pine Walkway toward Calypso Rock where the terminal teleport is stashed, right beside her *still* unfinished house. She thinks again how horribly lazy she is, never completing anything of note. The airport certainly remains a mess. She “borrows” her other, much larger abode from neighbor Simple when needed. And the “Bible Truth” play has now been put on hold thanks to that inbred town council bending to the wishes of those stupid protesters from the southeast sector (R). She may never act the role of Bettie. Back to being just plain old Little Tonshi, the nutjob from the hills, the vampire with no fangs.

“But Calypso Rock is so sacred,” she counters herself while approaching. “This is where I created Nancy, my greatest, perhaps my *only* accomplishment. And maybe that’s all I need.” She steps inside.

“Hi Tonshi! Glad you’re back. Just straightening up the place a bit.”

“Hi Nancy. Want to head down into town with me?”

“Again??”

“Yeah.”

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begending

“I don’t quite get all these references to clowns, Buster. Could this be a Clare Nova influence on the town? Clown town?”

“Here it is, Wheeler,” said Buster beside her, not really listening. “The stairs I took up to my death spot. But now Peter says there are two such structures (in town).”

“Well, let’s go look around. Anyone coming in has to land there. Why did they do that? Some things here puzzle me. Puzzle me greatly.”

“My guess is that there are two forces in Olde Lapara, one for each involved sim. The town is split, in effect. Male and female. Black and white. Good and bad. Old and new. The town needs to heal itself in order to go forwards. It’s the same with every one of us.”

“Quite the philosopher you are, Buster. I guess that goes along with you being 10,000 years old or something.”

“Yes. I’ve seen a lot. Do you know how hard it is to kill a vampire?” He answers himself. “*Really* hard. If they don’t want to be killed. And I’m simply a coward. I enjoy life in death.”

“Jesus could give you that,” offers Wheeler. “So says the protesters. Where’d they go anyway?”

“So many questions, but we must start at the beginning. And the end.” They walk up the stairs.

—–

“We could just wait here long enough and meet up with everyone that regularly comes through the place,” says Wheeler, staring inside. “Manifestation spot. What does it mean?”

“Stop asking that. Meaning meaning meaning. Maybe it just is what it is. A work in progress. Continual progress.”

“Let’s go see the other one. This one’s empty to me.”

Buster took a closer look.

“You don’t understand, Wheeler Wilson. I couldn’t even look out to see who was continually shooting me. 47 times. They thought I was already a vampire. But I wasn’t. At the time.”

“Who turned you?” queried Wheeler (yet again). “I mean, to become a vampire someone has to kill you — drain you of blood, right?”

—–

Synchronicity. Just then, Bettie manifested in the south side of town using Rocky’s Unique Mushroom Portal, as she called it — RUMP, for short. That was part of the deal. Rocky would possess the small house, but Bettie and her alts like Little Tonshi Ashokan could use it as a shortcut when they wished to come down the mountain for a visit. Which was turning out to be often, much to Rocky’s irritation. He was attempting to jumpstart his second novel. Current working title: “Two to Know.”

On August 8th, 1926, cubic Arnold and Betsy Layne had just arrived in town, demanding a room in the already booked up Grand Lapara Hotel…

Rocky took the sheet out of the typewriter, wadded it up and threw it toward the wastebasket in the corner. “No, that won’t do,” he sighed.

—–

“Do you want to do it or should I?”

“I’ll go. You go get some rest for tomorrow when we explore the other end.”

—–

“I said *I’d* go.”

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Afterwards…

“Where’s your wife, David Bowie? I mean, Little Tonshi.”

Little Tonshi then pitched the proposition. “Give me Wheeler (for that). And I’ll give you a whole ‘nother Second Life, Buster. A better one. Like Grand Theft Auto, except 1700 times more choice.”

“Umm… I don’t understand.”

Little Tonshi turned into just Tonshi. Bettie. “The airport on top of the hill. It’s not an airport, of course. It’s a recording studio. There I made ‘Heathen,’ my best later work. Many subterranean passages exist within. In one I’m myself and a shadow of myself.”

“Still not getting it…”

“You deserved better than this Buster. I have many friends that are aiding me. Levi Clownski said he would personally pay for your ticket outta here. He doesn’t want you around.”

“I said I’m sorry (about the killing). Many many years ago. Many times in many years.”

“This is not about that. I’ve learned to accept my fate obviously. We are not enemies. It’s just you don’t belong here.”

“Of course I do.”

“No.”

“Then where?”

—–

“*Where*??”

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2 I’s

“I’ve been living here a long time,” spoke Little Tonshi. “I have my great view, my own Table, even.”

“Are you going to change her back?” queried Buster Damm, talking about Wheeler on the couch between them.

“Not while she’s around me. David Bowie, David Bowie,” she said disgustedly. “*I’m* David Bowie. At least as much as her.”

“I must admit it’s a great view here,” he said. “What’s the movie tonight, hehe? Bowie, I assume.”

“Yes,” replied Little Tonshi. “The early years. The first 3 albums. Up to and including ‘Hunky Dory’.”

“Your masterpiece according to some.”

“‘Life on Mars’ was a surprise,” admitted the purple girl. “A shock, even. I realized I was extraterrestrial by then.”

Buster looked at one and then the other. “Someone will have to go,” he said. “There can’t be 2 David Bowies in this story.”

“Again I’ll leave it up to you. I can return Wheeler at any time. You can head to Ratcliff, then. Leave me back here up on my high mountain, the highest in Second Life.”

“Says some,” added Buster.

“Yes. Shush now. The show is starting.”

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