Tag Archives: BIGFOOT

00460313

She thought she’d go back to the beginning of the road, where she started her story in this here Burg of the general Nawt Vaya region of the Jeogeot continent of the Western Hemisphere of virtual Our Second Lyfe. A call, I believe. No, perhaps a calling, as in a profession. She was always bright, super bright in fact. The unusual drew her attention. Cryptozoology was eventually the chosen study. She’d be a professor, occasionally publish articles and present papers and have a rather easy life of it as more a skeptic on the subject than a believer per common public opinion. Then the call — yes, a call was also involved, as in phone. Someone dialed all the numbers except 4, which would instead connect you to The Moon. “Hallo?” she said from her faculty desk next to the faculty lounge whose thin walls enabled her to keep up with all the local faculty gossip. Dr. Brown dating Dr. Green to the chagrin of Dr. Blue? All in a day’s listening.

“It’s me. Wolvie.”

“*Wolvie*. You old dog. Hadn’t heard from you since–”

“Lester’s Bay, I know. I ran away, sorry.”

“You ran away as a *dog*. Dude, what gives?”

“I’m… not who I seem.”

“I *gathered*.”

“Anyway. Charlene. I need some help. Something in your department.”

“Tell me about it, bro of mine.” She knew it was one of those loose ends in her life that eventually had to be tied up. Her own flesh and blood brother a shapeshifter! But academia called and she put such psychic phenomena out of her mind. She had grades to worry about, peer pressure, etc. She was young in her position, with tenure a fur piece down the road.

“Bigfoot,” he just blurted the name out, which he knew would catch her attention. “Sighted in your vicinity.”

Her vicinity, let’s see. Yes I guess this would have to be Nawt Vaya State University, then, hmm. Interesting. Perhaps a strong Psychics department. Or maybe that’s Physics. Anyway, the link had been made, the one between Charlene and Wolvie her brother, not Psychics and Physics. Although maybe that fits in too.

“Give me a location,” she cited rather mechanically, more a professor’s standard tone in this dog eat dog world of general college academia, especially for a female professor who, by default, had more to prove.

He did more than that. He sent her a picture. “Bigfoot!” she cried aloud, giving Dr. Black a start from his faculty lounge chair just beyond the wall. “So it’s real.” And just down the road from her in that Nawt Vaya underwater tunnel, she observed.

She understandably took the rest of the day off to investigate. Which eventually landed her on the doorstep of Roberts and Franklin in one of those 2 locations shown before, just as Wolvie planned. Charlene would do the choosing for him, as it turned out. Should have seen it coming.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0313, Jeogeot, Juho, Nawt Vaya, South Lake, The Burg

00460310

Wolvie investigates an old Bigfoot location and finds it intact.

Along with the associated Roberts and Franklin Private Eye Investigators Ltd. in not one but two locations.

He’ll have to make a choice soon. ‘Nother one.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0310, Cable Isle, Chilbo^, Jeogeot, Midlands, Towerboro

00420412 (a dose of LSD)

“Meet me by the big foot in Kyoto. Oracle’s orders.” He hung up the phone.

—–

“Where *is* she?” Was he firm enough in his tone of voice?

He started wandering around. Bad idea.

Soon, too soon, he’d forgotten EVERYTHING.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0412, Kyoto, LSD

Hazelwood

There’s also what I’ve labelled a blue room and a red room about the place, but let’s start with the yellow or golden one, central in several ways. Tania, a Valentine’s gift from Gladly in days gone by, stares at a computer screen depicting a Rainbow Sphere twirling merrily in on itself. Makes her think of Christmas and her maw. Golden bars stacked on a two tier table beside her. Small sofa with Saints style fleur-de-lis decorated throw pillows behind her of the same color. Her dress is also kind of the same hue. She sits in the middle of the manor, unobserved. The building she’s in twirls in on itself all around her too. One named Wayne, although the description says Wayen. Tania’s boss was never the best of spellers. Plumb pitiful actually, but don’t bring it up to her face or you may get a smack. So this is where we’ll begin.

The Maebaleia continent here is still relevant in Our Second Lyfe. So is Jeogeot, Heterocera, Sansara, Nautilus, Corsica, Gaeta V, Zindra, and, heck, don’t get me started about the various Bellisseria ones, as large now as all the original ones I’ve just listed combined I would suppose. Like Atlantis Rising — again in the middle of it all or between the 2 mainland hemispheres, linking them up in fact. Azores greatly expanded in relative scale.

Her replacement Patricia, a St. Patrick’s gift also from the past, arrives at the Secret Door Bookshelf waiting her turn. Not yet.

Still thinking of Xmas, she changes the screen. She replaces a beloved ornament named Girly Santa with a shiny new train, golden in hue as well up front, the place she decided it would poke out of the tree’s innards.

Her user found it in the woods. Just waiting for him. It turns a Christmas Tree into a Winter Tree proper, extending its life to, say, Arbor Day or thereabouts, he figures. Or at least March 17th.

Thanks “Bigfoot”!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0101, Concreek, Frank Park, Haze County, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland, Whitehead Crossing

00410108

“What are we looking at, Christina? Are you looking for your father?” Pamela huffs. “Never mind, you *always* look in this direction, long long before your father went missing on his tractor just day before yesterday.”

“I am a visitor to this place. Over there… those hills. That’s where I’m from,” Christina said dreamily, like she was a ghost instead of a flesh and blood person. Which she wasn’t anyway — mesh, as I indicated before. In contrast, Pamela is “real” in that she has an actual body, actual skin, actual clothes that she can change out of if desired. Actual hair. And those feet! Get back to that soon.

“Christina,” she chastised, but only mildly, knowing the young girl was “troubled” to say the least, “you’ve lived in Amiable all your life. We went to school together starting when you were a wee lassie, pardon my Scotch. You’ve lived here with your father, your brother, all your life. Well,” she amended, “your younger brother *most* of your life, since you were, I believe, 3 when he was born.” She turned and stared at the girl instead of the landscape, very pretty indeed but not worth contemplating for more than 5-10 minutes at a time from this particular angle, she gauged. Yet Christina was up here all day, minus food breaks and various small chores her father dared burden her with. Which reminds Pamela: “Grass is going to need cutting soon,” she said to the younger girl by 2 years while walking away, determined to talk to the almost as robotic acting brother, up at what they call the farmhouse as usual playing or at least attempting to play — *strumming* — his punk songs. Whole albums he is into, not just songs, he proclaimed to her one day in April’s May.

She knew Wally kind of fancied her, as all young boys do, even those as lost in their own world as him. Said so another time. “You’re pretty,” he opined then. “Looong legs. I’d give them a 10, just like the Ramone’s 3rd album. Have you heard ‘Rockaway Beach’?” and he then proceeded to play the whole album the single was from as a kind of serenade, she supposed. Another time he said he liked the way she tended to walk on her toes, and played an entire Sex Pistols album called “Never Mind the Buttocks” as she recalled, perhaps as a tribute to the feet as opposed to parts higher up that she also reckoned he liked although couldn’t say out loud to her.

I’m going to snap him out of this rock trance he’s in, she decided on the spot. By snapping off my feet. “Wally? Wally. Waallly. Wally!” He didn’t stop playing some punk song she didn’t recognize — not her style of music. But at least he was glancing at her now, knowing she was up to something. Those legs, he thought. Those feet!

But then he did a double take when the snapping off was over and the alpha was removed. The music halted mid-strum. “Those *feet*!” he exclaimed. What happened to the beautiful toes??

“This is who I really am, Wally,” she said back. “*Now*… since I’ve awakened you from your music trance, let’s talk about your father. Where he possibly is? How far could he get with that old tractor that breaks down all the time? Let’s *find* your *father*.”

This kind of strategy wouldn’t work with Christina, since she, in her limited mesh way of course, wasn’t looking for shells on the opposite side of the beach. Wally could be persuaded in that fashion. And could be woke up in that fashion.

“My *father,*” he exclaimed, putting the guitar down for the first time in Pamela’s memory of him, “is *missing*.”

So is introduced the story that Bigfoot took his father away into the woods and made a pet out of him, which wasn’t totally false by the way.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0108, Teepot^^

00360506

appropriated from https://www.cidergallery.com/wad-blog/2022/7/5/meet-the-artist-folklore

Meet Barry DeBoy! His collage piece “Does this look square to you?” is in his current show, “Adventures in Tintown, Parts 1 through Tin”. When originally approached about the show, he already had the idea to do something that would work with tin and lead and other base metals, but in a way to make it fun and different from other portrayals.*

His 2017 gallery show in Omaha in Oklahoma was where he had discovered that he could pursue art as a career.

“I would describe myself and my art as goofy and something I don’t take too seriously, although art is super important to me and I am constantly making stuff. It’s both tin or lead and gold or, say, platinum at the same time. You dig?”

We do indeed, Barry. Keep on creating your stress-free and humorous art, you daffy alchemist!

—–

* note: Barry’s simple 2 part collage here (notice the disembodied  nutcracker head) was later incorporated into a larger triptych of the series, becoming part of part 4c instead of standing alone at 7, which was replaced by the painting “Sassquatch” (picture not shown).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0506, collages 2d, Kentucky, Nebraska, Oklahoma

00360210

I occasionally stop by here, a house to the south of Chilbo on the Jeogeot continent, to check and see if my star is still there on the porch where I put it, oh, say about a year ago by this point. Owner of the house and attached property is a bigfoot researcher, like myself. 🙂 Guy named Snow. And the creator of the star is also a Snow — small world, or so they say. The first Snow is also co-owner of Roberts and Franklin Investigators in Towerboro on the same continent.

Has Robin Williams pic and quote in his profile, thus the decision to place the star here. Williams was a big fan of Firesign Theatre. And a couple of years back, in the sim of Moork, I found a small parcel owned by Uh Clem, a name derived from one on their “Bozos” album already mentioned in this photo-novel by Peter Ladd, nephew of Mr. Babyface. Tonight I found an Ahclem avatar in the same group as the person who owns the Ouroboros property seen in the last part of my last post here (and who has a Firesign Theatre quote in his profile). And, to remind, Shelley Struthers, an all important character now, extraordinarily so, is based on a Shelly I found in Our Second Lyfe who is also a big fan of Firesign Theatre (another one of their quotes in her profile; is, like myself, a member of the only Our Second Lyfe Firesign Theatre group I know of) and whose apartment she has owned for at least several years lies directly on the triple number of Hooktip, on the Head Line of the Heterocera continent. Keep in mind that we just found more oddities on the Heart Line, its matching diagonal from that particular continent. You can get a glimpse of what I’m working with, all the connections. It is, indeed, a Matrix.

But I believe I know what’s on top of the box now. And the bottom. Nautilus, my *home* continent now (not Jeogeot, not Heterocera) is at the bottom. Top is Reality: an approximately 10×10 mile square in the middle of Ringgold County in the south of Iowa. And then they begin to interpenetrate.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0210, Chilbo^, Heterocera, Iowa, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Towerboro

00350614

Ahh, this is nice, Abbey Abdominator thought. Away from always spying always recording Ruttitutii the Star Team or whatever robot. Can eat and drink in peace here at base quarters. Quiet as ocean. Speaking of which…

“Sure you can have a piece of Stiggy’s birthday cake if you wish,” spoke Elanea the amphibious looking bartender. “They left the whole thing. Turned out it wasn’t his birthday, ha.”

“Lemme guess,” said Abs (Abbey) back. “His death day instead.”

“Oh you’ve heard the joke!” and moves to cut him a slice. Just like the underwaters to come up with something like that. The cake is presented to him on a small plate with a fork and a knife. He cuts bites chews. Tastes like chicken. Still pretty good, oddly enough.

“Soo, hear MM is in trouble with HR. DOB is in doubt. So is DOD.”

“We’re pretty sure she was born in 1997,” said Abs to this, feeling free to discuss such matters here. “But DOD is 2021 by one account and 2012 by another. We know Bigfoot is involved.”

“Bigfoot?” Marlena Elanea hadn’t heard of such a thing.

What would be the underwater equivalent? Abs thinks here. Can’t come up with it. “Yeti?” he tries again. “Abominable Snowman?”

“Like you!” Elanea said. Abs had to grin a bit. It was a kind of joke he hadn’t heard in a long time, unlike the birth-death one which was common. It reminded him of childhood growing up on Xenon 10-C. “Hey, Abdominal!” the bullies of his elementary middle high school chided. “Ever get those extra stomachs back from your Maw?” Punching would come later, when he learned boxing from the zombies and rabbits. For now — then — he took it. He’d store up the negative energy. He would expel it on them full force later. And: here he is. At the top, a bona fide Wizard, a superior to men and women and reptiles and amphibians alike. But was he *really* in charge of the latter? He’d ordered cake from froggish Elanea. He decided to test further. She’d have to obey, right?

“Soo, what are you doing after your shift? Have a couple of hours free this afternoon.” Would she actually sleep with a Grey? Everyone up top knew he didn’t have one. Did she?

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0614, Little Hell, Omega^^, Southern

a welcoming sight in the woods

Probably Bigfoot. Or not. Welcoming anyways.

Here’s some evidence Bigfoot may like Hot Wheels. They’ve maybe screwed this bit o’ track to the floor of a “covered bridge” located not far from the first photo of this post above. Probably not again, but just saying, just showing. And the arranged rocks once more…

I wonder if they swing on this swing when they know no one is around, play with the rocks, bring their Hot Wheels and more track stored safely out of the elements in their nearby dwelling places to attach to this base stretch. Could be Bigfoot children taking a break from the serious lives of their parents and elders. Just make sure a human doesn’t see you, they might warn. Or they could be out on a lark. Bad Bigfoot children! if so. Elders always know best when it comes to safety.

We cannot speak of Area 54 and its mysterious rocks and pipes (etc.) in any detail which would provide you the reader further information for the weighing of truths in this matter. Maybe later, sorry.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0514, Bill Mountain, Frank Park

THIS SIM 02 01

“*You* are Taylor,” she exclaimed excitedly across from him, wearing her standard green shirt with the lantern symbol, one from a Golden Age long forgotten by most. But not by Fern.

“And… you are?” Jeffrey Phillips remains confused. He had crossed the line from This Sim 01 into This Sim 02 and found himself here. On this couch. Speaking to this… woman. Stranger. Her eyes were brilliantly alert. She was always thinking, he realized, always spinning around something in her head. He thought back to the rainbow Ferris wheel.

“Orange,” she proclaimed, then seeing his continued blank look, said, “no not the color, the number. You are looking for VI. Ruby,” she furthered. She saw recognition in the eyes. “A… purple car, not blue not red, merges with orange to exit in you: Taylor.”

What was she *on* about? he thought. He briefly contemplated that he had died, had drove his red 57 Chevy into that levy between sims and all this, all that followed, was his dream in the afterlife. Taylor? Was that his new post-death name? And this person: some kind of angel? Or maybe: devil. Half and half. He slapped himself in the face. Didn’t work. He was still dreaming in this reality, wherever he was.

“What do you mean I’m Taylor?” A series of images formed on the couch across from him in place of Fern. He hadn’t yet realized this was his old gal pal Charlene the Punk, come back from the future after her dissertation on Bigfoot had been completed, turned into a book which was turned into a movie which was turned into a franchise, toys, cookbooks, the lot. There was even a brand of kitchen sink named after it. Bigfoot went from backwoods legend to front and center superhero. All the children knew who Gene Fade was and that his birthplace was at Jupiter Rock and that he spent his formative years in Mocksity and that he lived to be over 400 years of age. Children wanted to *be* Bigfoot now. Children wanted to live relatively forever too, where a childhood would last one of our present lifetimes. Fern knew a lot, had seen a lot. Fern had been augmented, just because she could afford it due to the franchise and all. And she had created 2 others just as tag along friends, one a ditzy blonde and the other, the other…

She changed back. “You were in that wagon,” Fern started again, like a well oiled machine, a purring car, a cat pouncing on a bat. Lee Meriwether had nothing on her.

Ruby, he remembered. The witch had said the same thing: that he was Taylor. The spirit she had summoned faded back into the netherworld it had come from. No: there! Outside the wagon now, floating across the landscape, heading toward a bridge of interesting design.

Another sim crossing. There! That’s where he had died. But not Taylor; the other. 2nd in command.

Man About Time woke up. Strangest dream, he though, and picked up his pen and pad beside his bed to jot it down before he forgot most of the details.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0316, Blue Mountain, Collagesity Fordham, Frank Park, Gene Fade's Mtn., Herman Park, Hills of Bill^, Iowa, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Maebaleia/Satori, Mocksity, Nautilus, West Virginia, Wild West