Tag Archives: Billy Jean Kidd/ Heidi Hunt Ives^^

golden yellow

I’m not going back to the MISTY MO lodge, Roger Pine Ridge realized while standing on the bridge looking east toward it. I’m going to go on the long walk and play with more forms. Like this little, yellow clad girl, perhaps Jennifer M. Friend herself when she was a child. Probably not, but…

Or how about Wanda the Minoan, fitting in with the yellow theme again? But maybe I’ve got enough wee ones already — Piper and Dollie.

Interesting. I forgot I had both a Cyberdoll and a Paperdoll form that I mashed together to create Cyberpaperdoll, one of my better creations, along with similarly mashed together Roger Pine Ridge.

A good couple they are. Too bad it didn’t work out. Thanks to Bandit Boy, hehe…

But I suppose I should just keep Allen Yellow as my primary avatar for now: Allen Y. He’s got a nifty backpack for storing tomato and mayonnaise sandwiches and lemon tea for the trip, along with extra shoes and a change of clothes. He’s got a helmet for when the atmosphere gets too hard to breathe again, along with an additional set of eyes for long distance viewing.

—–

“Does he not get the irony?” observing Baker Bloch spoke back in Collagesity. “Golden sphere… frog eyes… and that’s why Piper the *frog* was sent to MISTY MO in the first place, along with Tropp.”

“Golden sphere, yes,” echoed Wheeler, thinking back.

—–

Goodbye lodge. Goodbye mystic nut Norm or Bob. So long old and withered Johnny Appleseed tree. See ya Black Lake on the northeast corner, the one Jennifer saw Demo written all over. Under. Too much more to see.

He sets out for parts already partially known but with big hunks yet to be explored. 1/2 and 1/2.

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Filed under *Second Life, MISTY MO

arrival 03

It took them half a day to reach another of those clear spaces where they could make enough sense to each other for more of the story.

“A railroad oval. An engine runs into a caboose. Tale before the tiger,” Marion explained. “A race between beginning and end, she said. Tale wins.”

“Maybe tails win,” Billy Jean King said while sitting on a small bed in the corner of the otherwise almost unfurnished and undecorated cabin. “As in a coin. Flipping a coin — heads and tails.”

“Maybe.”

“What else?”

“She said to always pay attention to the blue roses. They always indicate something. We looked west now. Two thrones — blue roses to side. She said these were the Prince and Princess of Rosehaven, but only when Caledon is Caledonia.”

“See?” BJK nudged Philip sitting beside her in the ribs. “I *told* you it was Caledon. Maybe we were in the wrong place to start with.”

“No,” insisted Marion. “We were definitely in the right place. Caledonia. And then — get this — they removed their, er, masks. Actually the Prince had on some rainbow swirly globe or something — over his head. The princess just shed her golden skin, like a snake. ‘Let the waters rise,’ they said in unison, then. I looked around but didn’t see any water, let alone water rising. But something had changed. I could feel it.”

I also noticed there was a tiny bit missing from the Prince’s fin-foot, like it was bitten a little bit.”

“A little *bite*,” BJK insisted. She turned toward Philip knowingly. Philip just stared back blankly.

“The Princess’ shoe was right there.”

“Achilles heel?” BJK offered, visualizing it backwards in her mind.

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Filed under *Second Life, Rosehaven^^

arrival 02

“Philip! Come here!”

—–

“She said her name was Edwardston. I figured that was code for something.” Billy Jean Kidd had an opinion but bit her tongue for a change. “She said she was waiting for spring to arrive in Rosehaven before properly returning. I told her the snow’s melting, melting, melting as we speak — shouldn’t be long. She said she had to wait until it was good and gone because she didn’t like snow one bite. ‘One bite’, she said. Not ‘one bit’.”

“A byte is 8 bits,” offered Philip to one side. “I learned that in my computer science class.”

“The one you failed. Speeding through your assignments all the time and not paying attention to what you were doing.”

“How about you?” Philip countered to his old school chum Marion. “Always high. Always slow… to learn.”

“Admittedly it was a blur. The whole school thing… but — anyway — getting back on subject, Edwardston said she knew all about the Oracle.” He paused here.

“Well?” urged Billy Jean Kidd on the other side, finally showing her impatience again. They had a 15 minute window here at the Vineyard cafe to talk about something serious, very serious, in as clear a way as possible. And it was 5:36 now. They were 6 minutes in — almost halfway into this theoretical space. Rainbow space. BJK indicated their time limit to the others.

“Aww, that’s just something you made up,” insisted Philip to her left. “It’s not like at 5:45 I’m going to get up, go to one corner, pull out my dime bag of cocaine, line it up neatly on the table, and then take a straw and sniff, sniff, sniff — very quickly.” Philip imagined how pleasant this would be, and the resulting state.

“Yes you will,” states Marion plainly. “You always do. 15 minutes after sweets. Always the same story.”

“5:39 now,” issues BJK, pointing to the watch still not on her wrist.

“Anyway,” continues Marion. “She said the tiger pictures were placed at the end of the tale on purpose. And then — get this — she said she came from *between* the two of them.”

“What’s that mean?” inquired BJK.

“I asked the same thing to Edwardston and she didn’t respond. Instead she got up: ‘Walk with me,’ she said. There was another part to explore. The large balcony was just the beginning of the end, she said. ‘Walk with me,’ she repeated.”

“5:42, now,” implored BJK, sneaking a glance at Philip. His forehead had begun to perspire. So little time left!

“We rounded a corner of the large room and entered another one, with a window facing the opposite direction — toward the north instead of the south, I believe. A man named Pat sat on a couch surrounded by cats.”

Philip gets up from the table.

“Time’s up,” BJK declared, throwing her hands in the air.

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Filed under *Second Life, Rosehaven^^

arrival 01

“This is not ideal, Philip Dilip.”

“I know, I know,” he gruffly relented. “It’s all we could afford. Rent here is out the roof!”

“You said something about Clyde. Where is Clyde?” Billy Jean Kidd puts her hands on her hips for emphasis. This was important!

“Um, well, let’s just go meet Marion Harding over at that Vineyard he found yesterday.”

“Vineyard *cafe*,” Billy Jean Kidd corrected, still in a steam. “I could use some coffee. This heroin is beginning to wear off.”

“Well, we had to give you *something* for the trip. And to prepare you for, well, *this*.” He indicates toward the cottage he’d rented just several days back. Their new home: he and the Kidd and Marion. The kid who wasn’t really a kid atall. So the drug part is totally legit, at least in Caledonia. I’ll have to check the local laws on drug use before the 3 settle in. All heavy imbibers they are, Marion with his pot, Philip his pills, and Billy Jean, well, she’s the worst of the 3 now. Old souls can falter in that manner.

“Coffee!” The Kidd begins to stomp in place on the melting snow. “Coffee, coffee, coffee!” She was having a caffeine conniption.

—–

“It’s so laggy here, Philip, Kidd.”

“It’s the beginning of the end,” states Billy Jean plainly. “And where’s my *coffee*?”

“In a minute, babe,” spoke Marion, smooth and gangsterly as always. “Just gotta knock the edge off this pot with some wine. Then we’ll shift — over.”

“Wine, beer, booze, drugs, cigarettes.” It’s all we do any more. It’s like we don’t *exist*.”

Philip and Marion try to absorb the impact of this statement. “*Clyde*” Billy Jean harshly interrupted their ruminations. “The *reason* for the *being*.”

Marion finally thought to take another sip of wine. Buzz was strong this afternoon. Blur the higher regions a bit, the parts he’s not suppose to know yet. The blue above the red. Red wine, blue pot, hmmm. He drinks deeper. Must return to red.

“Well I for one am going to get some sugar… donuts hopefully. Take the bite out of these barbiturates I’m on currently.” Philip scoots his chair back and gets up to go to the other side, across the wooden swing bridge. The side of the cafe that has the coffee. And the pastries.

Marion then stares at The Kidd, who stares back. “You don’t… really like me do you,” Marion states, seeing the hatred in her eyes.

“No, I don’t really like you Marion Star Harding. Not at the moment, anyway.” But Marion thought it went on longer than that. Through eternity, maybe, but that was the blue beyond the red again. ‘Nother sip of wine. Oh… he realized, she just wants some coffee. And I’m here, taking my time, drinking my wine. Slooowly.

“Oh… I see,” he spoke aloud. “You want…”

“Duh,” she interrupted. “Are you through with the wine?” She pauses a beat. “How about now?”

“Listen, doll… kid. We’re here to show you something, Philip and me. There’s something special about this place. It’s not… just about getting away from Caledonia. It’s *fate*.” Marion ends here.

“It’s fate *what*?”

“The, er, Oracle.” He decided just to blurt it out. “It’s in the other side. The pastry part.”

“Well,” states Billy Jean Kidd, unimpressed. “Down the rest of that precious wine and we’ll head over there. Join Philip in his sugar binging. It will probably be cocaine after that. Usually is after sweets. We may have a clear spot between…” — she checks her watch which she actually isn’t wearing — “… between 5:30 and 5:45. That gives us 15 minutes to make some actual sense to each other. Not red… blue… black… yellow. I need some coffee, I need some drugs. We’ll actually *talk* to each other. Like a regular family.” Billy Jean Kidd thinks again how she desires a normal family, not necesarrily a father and a mother instead of 2 fathers — pseudo-fathers. Just… normal. White picket fences, red apple pies, blue skies, green trees, yellow dress — well, she has that… but the rest. She so wants it. And she thought this mythical Clyde might supply it.

Marion finally remembers to drink the wine again. And that they need to get to the other side. He stands up, a little wobbly but then steady (as she goes).

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Filed under *Second Life, Rosehaven^^

Hinterland

“The animations in this town blow, Philip.”

“I know Philip.”

“Better wake up Marion. I’m ready to blow this town.”

“Me too.”

“Marion,” the non-bearded Philip begins to call. “Oh Mar-ion,” he sings softly. “Come out come out wherever you’re at.”

“Twinkle, twinkle,” jokes the bearded Philip.

Insert transmutation sound…

“50,000 linden dollars,” Marion Star Harding begins. “For all the mysteries of Caledonia unlocked. Will save you 5 years worth of research.”

A pause. “What about the girl?” Philip inquires.

“You can throw her in too. The shapeshifter.”

“But that’s *you*.”

They wait. Another transmutation doesn’t take place.

“She must be upstairs,” offers Philip.

“Yes,” Marion quickly agrees. “Since neither one of us are her. Upstairs, yes. On the bed. With *1* animation.”

—–

Heidi Hunt Ives stayed motionless tossed and turned all night. It was those darn boat horns. “Look out, look out!” they repeatedly cried. “I’m over here! Watch it! Can you see me! If you can’t here’s another blare from my horn, blow blow!”

It doesn’t always have to be fog in the harbor.

Better get up, though, and talk to the partners in crime, she grumbled inwardly while trying to fully rouse herself. Moving day, she guessed.

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Filed under *Second Life, Caledonia^^, Rosehaven^^

Red? ¡Ay, caramba!

Funny how I’ve been banned for 30 minutes from that central property, just for sitting at that table and attempting to grab an orange. Better send replacement Snoupy in for a shot instead. Must – get – oranges!

He checks his watch. *Or*, I could just wait the now 19 minutes remaining and explore some of the rest of this Adgatetown. David Jaspers, Linda Halsey — wonder if they’re still here. And of course Lisa V., the real reason for the visit. Bartholomew. I know where he is. I know where all the Smipsons are: Homer, Marg, Grandpaw, Magee, even the aunts Selma and Louise. I know who shot Mr. J. R. Burns. And I know why Lisa can’t find any of them. She has evolved.

Two kids playing on a jungle gym linked together with red, blue, yellow pentagons. Wait: there’s green there too. Sometimes that is forgotten in the mix of primary colors.

Maybe like Lisa and Bartholomew when they were children. Innocent days of youth. Before the Big Change. One made it through the waterfall, the other didn’t. Lisa casts a shadow and evil is born. Projected onto the boy.

They are acting out a play: The boy dreams of life on an elephant, but can’t make it there himself. For the girl: smooth sailing.

What game are they playing now? The one where blue wins and red loses? That happens all the time.

What about yellow on the edge? Oh, there’s the father or guardian showing up. Perhaps come to gather them up and take them home to a nice, delicious warm meal prepared by the significant other while he was out hard at work selling encyclopedias or something. Nice suit.

But when Marion Harding also stopped at the edge of the circle, only one child was still within. The dancing one. The one who cast the shadow.

Oops. Past time to take a pic with those oranges!

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Filed under *Second Life, Corsica^^, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island

transference

“Yes, thank you Penn Mann. But we kind of already *knew* where the mound was on this sim map.” Waste of thin space he sometimes is, she thought to herself, but only huffed outwardly.

Embarrassed, Penn Mann moved away from the map and propped himself back up against the wall beside Dr. I.C. Yourinsides. After considering the next step, he thought into their heads again. “Give me your idea of how Tronesisia — Sissy — and this Rocky being I hadn’t met until yesterday’s rehearsals — fine fellow, though — tell me how they knew about Billy’s secret hideout. Any clues?”

“We don’t *need* clues, Penn Mann. Mr. Director.” Dr. I.C. blew out air again. “It *happened*. Tronesisia and Rocky noticed that there were 3 extra prims on the property the other day. They’re very meticulous about counting, since they leave full building permissions on that property for the various entertainers passing through. They used remote viewing to pretty quickly find the cube, the most solid and rounded of the 3, just under the floor of the nightclub. This led (them) to the other two objects linked to the cube — the copy of ‘I, Robot’ by another Carter person apparently [sic], and then the Jimmy Carter cutout that represents Billy’s *real* brother, or what he takes to be his real brother anyway. It’s all brainwashery, though: the alien disguise, everything. He’s really human through and through in this production. But he’s not really a he.”


“So it *is* you.”

Penn Mann considered this as well. “What about the public urination, then, the pissing with the [delete name]? And Mr. Yellow. Or Yellows, 2 of ’em. He drank the special brew, but is then discovered pissing it back out at that public landing spot for Wallytown, all out in the open and all. But it takes two Mr. Yellows, combined, to accomplish this. What does that mean?”

Dr. I.C. threw up her hands, then figuratively punted. “You take it Spocari Nemoy.”

“Captain,” admonished Nemoy. “Use the title when speaking to me in this war room. I outrank you.”

Dr. I.C. blew him a raspberry with this. “Go ahead then, *Captain*. Give our Director Mann a dose of some more truth. He wants fiction, we give him reality back.” She turned to Penn Mann again. “All this *happened* to us — get that through your thin, ink filled head.” She looked him over. “Which side is your head anyways?”

“Biker Chick,” went Penn Mann on a tangent again in their heads. He had this in common with his Urbane Blue director doppleganger: Eraserhead Man. Without eyes, without mouth, he turned his attention to the black and pink clad woman sitting beside Nemoy, who was markedly leaning in the opposite direction from her, obviously uncomfortable with her presence here. “We seem to need a fresh perspective on this,” Penn Mann thought. “Give us what you think.”

Dr. I.C. Yourinsides spoke up again. “Biker Chick doesn’t know anything; she has just arrived.”

“Nevertheless,” insisted Penn Mann inside their heads. “I am *still* the director of the production, despite what you may think, Good Doctor.”

“Oh Lord,” she exasperated. “Go ahead, then, Biker-Chick-still-not-even-with-a-name-yet. Tell us what you got.”

“Heidi,” she piped up in a thin voice after a pause. “My name is Heidi.” But Nemoy and Yourinsides both realized it was actually Penn Mann speaking *through* this person. She looks down at her hands, wiggles them around. She reaches up and touches her face, her eyes, her mouth.

And then she touches something else. “How do you like *these* apples?”

Spocari Nemoy started to feel red-blooded again. This is what he didn’t like about biker chicks, among many other things. But this above all else. What would Marlon Brando do? he thinks for not the first nor last time.

He makes a mental note to schedule another regeneration session with Lt. Gunnhead asap.

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Filed under *Second Life, Wallytown/Fishers Island