Tag Archives: BLUE BALL

00460315

Wheeler first heard the term Blue Balls while on the toilet reading about it in a conveniently placed local history mag. Being an excellent writer because of all those professor papers, Charlene “The Punk” Brown had no problem getting an article published — with permission from her sometimes lover and owner of the actual (tape) object Emily New Moon of course. As it turns out, the name originates from the Blue Balls Hotel, built more than two hundred years ago and which stood on the southwestern corner of town, right where the ice cream vendor Newt and she were eating at just several days back. Make that several weeks back as I’m checking. The builder, John Wallace — by chance the father of Builder Bob often noisily working on those pipes just outside Emily’s video store to her irritation — hung a blue ball out front, calling it “The Sign of the Blue Ball”. Locals soon began calling the town Blue Ball after the inn, which soon turned into Blue Balls as another ball was added to the first when no one was looking or paying attention.

But wait there’s more. The town’s name has a suggestive second meaning according to the 2nd paragraph of that article, identical to the slang term “blue balls,” which refers to, according to Charlene’s text, “the sexual condition of temporary testicular and prostate fluid congestion due to prolonged and unsatisfied sexual excitement.” After an initial leak by Marg “The Town” Gossiper, word spread quickly. A town meeting was speedily organized, a new name demanded. “Well, if not Blue Balls, then what!?” George “The Grill” Foreman called from in back of the rowdy, crowded room on the second floor of what soon became the town hall building, prompting mumblings of “What are we going to call this burg?” all around. No one could come up with a replacement name. And thus they settled on The Burg for lack of creativity or any other option. “Call it what it is,” finished Tom “The Surface” Smith. Oh, and then they all went over and burned down John Wallace’s Blue Balls hotel along with its offensive sign to seal the deal.

Wait! More. Left in the ashes of the catastrophe was a fireproof safe holding the most valuable of John’s valuables (he had many). And in that safe amongst diamonds and rubies and gold bars and gold bonds and the like was found the actual reason for the establishment’s appellation, a sex tape to be short, starring a young, novice actress in the field soon to become a much much bigger name in another. “And the name of that young actress,” Charlene finished part 01 of her promised 2 part article, “is none other than, get ready! (to be continued)”

*Fascinating* read, *friend*, Wheeler sarcastically and playfully thought about the cliffhanger while putting down the mag beside the toilet and finishing her business here. Now to get over to town hall and see what she’s facing in her 1st day of managing this here crazy town… *burg*!

But the subject would not go away, hmph. An envelope labeled “Paradise Found?” with a map of a certain Pennsylvania county all marked up inside laid atop the mail heaped up on her desk that morning, big pile courtesy of outgoing and not-giving-a-damn-on-her-last-day Electra. Sent by Charlene of all people. “Come see me,” indicated a handwritten note also within, along with the address of her records store down in Downtown (this was Uptown). Like Wheeler didn’t know that bit of information already, ha. And so on what she planned to be at least a 2 hr. 1st day lunch break that’s exactly what she did.

Blue Ball here on the map and not yet Blue Balls, you’ll notice. That might be a key — we’ll see.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0315, Jeogeot, Pennsylvania, The Burg

00460306

There she f-ing is in the flesh ha, thinks Emily New Moon at her counter beside the static filled TV. She likes to have it on with the sound turned at least low just to help drown out the city noise outside. Sometimes it’s bad out there, sometimes not so much. But she likes to keep it on anyway, just in case.

She rehearses her lines as Blue Moon mills around, trying to seem interested in the other tapes. But she only wants the one, she knew. 49 of 50 she has already. And she’s tracked down the 50th and last to this town, this store most likely, since it’s the only video rental one in this population place merely known as The Burg. Here: Downtown, its seedier side. Up there where it’s quieter most of the time: Uptown, where Emily *wished* she worked. But L.A. won the job at the ice cream vendor over her because she’d presented some papers at some national art conference or another, didn’t matter. *She’s* written things too. Just not published or presented stuff. Blue Moon milling about over there trying to seem distracted will know one day too, she thinks while continuing to observe and mentally rehearse. “‘Blue *Balls* Kentucky’, hmm — interesting — let me see,” and she’ll pretend to type the name into her database, pretend to look at results, pretend that the tape isn’t on the list. Blue Moon’s one and only porno, 50 copies extant. She has 49. But dammit if Emily *New* Moon is going to let her have 50. The blue fades to black right here in this town, this store. She’ll reach a dead end and it’ll nag at her the rest of her short lived days, Emily thinks with some satisfaction. Because she knows it’s worth a gold mine. And she, as it turned out, has cornered the market, ha ha ha. He he. Ho.

Here she comes. Steel yourself, Emily! You’ll be as famous as her soon, maybe even bigger than her — no need to be daunted. New Moon rising.

“I-I’d like to inquire about a tape,” she begins rather timidly. Like she doesn’t belong there. And she doesn’t, thinks Emily. Neither of us.

“Name?” she say as matter-of-factly as possible given the moment.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0306, Jeogeot, The Burg

00430614

It happened shortly after the rain started, probably after the first thunderclap. “What’s that, boy? Timmy’s fallen down a well and can’t get out but never mind that now and more important matters are pressing?” Frank repeated after his talking dog (in his head, for now). “Well, lead on!” he said.

The rain had stopped and it had gotten light when they came to this upside down guy with his parachute stuck in a tree down a nearby dirt road. A man from Tennessee, he claimed. No, a man *named* Tennessee, let’s change it. So the Blue Balls/Blue Moons sculptor is actually a man and not a woman as presumed. But what’s he doing in this tree, dropped down from the sky? Helicopter? Better cut him down so we can ask more questions.

Back on the ground, Frank told him that he had Chomp to thank for his rescue. But in turning around to find the dog — nothing. Frank didn’t own a dog, never had never will. And then the parachutist was gone too; Frank Lynn had apparently hallucinated the whole scenario. No more graytop mushrooms! he swore off then and there.

—–

But he eventually couldn’t resist — Mikie talked him into it I believe. This caused the second manifestation of the dog in another thunderclap during another thunderstorm, all part of it too. He was wetter and blacker this time, Frank noted through the gray-ish haze. “What’s that, boy?” he began to talk to the mutt again in his head. “Timmy remains trapped down in that well but there’s still more important matters to deal with tonight over at the damn, er, dam?”

So he followed the dog again down a different road this time to, as it turns out, the Petrochemistry Dam in a whole ‘nother game. The same guy was in trouble once more.

“Tennessee — if that’s your real name. What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s perfectly fine,” he said, teetering on the edge of death. “I just have to finish what the tree stopped before. The parachute opened by accident. I never intended to be saved.”

“Man that’s crazy. Get down from there!”

“Too late! AAAAAAAAHHHH!”

Muttering about him being a damn (dam?) fool, Frank Lynn rushed to the bottom….

… only to find someone totally different lying in the blood tainted stream there. Somehow someway, Tennessee had switched over to Kentucky in the free fall. Then everything disappeared just like before. He had Clyde on the phone in no time to schedule an emergency session, but his therapist had bad news too. He was changing jobs and moving. In the fall. No bookings before then. This is when Fremont came into his life. And Rutherford B. Hayes became the first president of our US of A to never be president. Triumvirate.

—-

“Go see Jonny Silverhhand to end this thing,” spoke Blue Moon to me when she popped up good as new over at the Kabusie roundabout marketplace after about 3 days we’ll say. “Just around the ‘corner’ — you can’t miss him.” And then she came to me and pecked a kiss on my cheek before walking away, saving the best for later.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0043, 0614, C2077, GTA, Kabusie, Rancho C

00430315

She came out of the dispensary beside the quick fix ganja vending machine V sipping chamomile tea and staring at the Black Star on its side and wondering how long Bowie had been dead. At least 8 years, she reckoned, maybe 8 1/2, the length of Fellini’s career up to the movie of that same title.

Her attention then shifted to the crime scene in the plaza slightly below her from this vantage point at the top of the cement steps, the heart of her po’ faux Nightsity, one of a handful I’ve found in Our Second Lyfe in the past month and a 1/2 or so. Another Blue Moon Kentucky killer victim, she gathered, 3rd this month of May’s June soon to slide into July. Should’ve shut down that so-called secret strip club behind the *sometimes* locked door weeks ago because of them, she thinks. Now another lies fallen.

Chef-inspector Petty studies the body outline and blood splatter volume and directions with rookie Dirk Bejirk, uselessly drawing a gun on the now vacant crime scene with no perpetrators in sight. Petty’s on loan from Aisle of Palms where absolutely nothing has happened since the end of the last photo-novel 2 months ago, not at the Perch restaurant in the Blue Feather complex during the day (chef 1/2 of his life), nor at the investigative agency in Cement Village at night (inspector 1/2 of his life). He’d even managed to get a proper amount of rest lately because he could now sleep on the job — both jobs — and get away with it. No more. Perch manager Percy Bidercy had to lay him off because of the lack of paying customers. The clients at the agency were also basically nonexistent. Put all this together and we have the current scene: Petty working in a different spot.

“It’s that strip club,” offered gun toting Dirk, still pointing at air. “City council should’ve shut it down weeks ago.”

“It’s not the strip club,” said Petty, defying common opinion. He gobbled another goober (peanut), trying to clear his mind of distractions. “Dirk, why don’t you go pick us up some food at that Chinese restaurant we passed on the way here. Bucket of Egg Foo Young for me. And a large Cokey Cola.”

“Shouldn’t drink sugary drinks, new boss.”

“Shut up and do the only thing you’re good for at this job. *Fetching*.” Petty kind of hated being so harsh to the rookie but tough love goes a long way. He’d know. Sgt. Petterson busted his balls enough in his early police/detective days to make them turn blue at times. Which, actually, also pertains to the current crime.

“3 Blue Moon crimes in the last several weeks,” he spoke to no one since a put-in-his-place Dirk had gone to fetch their food and drinks. He arrived on the scene for the first victim. He was just glad to get the job, glad of the income finally flowing into his bank account once more. Only after the 2nd did he start to get interested in the case itself, start to dig deeper into the facts. Then the 3rd here really took the cake. Fern arrived in “town”, also from a different dimension. Gave him information he couldn’t believe. We’re living in a simulation; none of this is real!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0315, Big Woods, C2077, GTA, Hana Lei^^, Jeogeot, Nightsity

00430304 (Page?)

“I tried to lighten the mood early in our friendship by showing him the Tire Nutz juxtaposition, Lichen, which he didn’t know about despite being local too. You’d be proud of me that day. Two big tractor tires on top of an auto repairs shop just down the street from my dealership, with a phallic water tower in back if you look at it straight on. Obviously done on purpose. Can you picture it in your mind’s eye, Lichen my partner? Do you even remember what those things look like, how they’re configured and such?”

“The tires are nuts, right,” says Lichen, serious in the moment while trying to figure all this out with her lesser brain power. “And the Blue Balls were nearby?”

“The Kentucky sculpture, yes, with three balls instead of 2, so: moons. Made by Tennessee. This was the fulfillment of her unfinished Mars project, poked through into another dimension. But Asylum was behind all of this still.”

“So we’re beyond… the Black Wall?”

“I’m not ready to go that far, my blonde buddy. It’s beyond me right now. And you know how I don’t like limitations of the mind.”

“Dangerous,” responds Lichen to this. “Keep ’em at bay with jokes.”

“Hmm.”

—–

One sector over, Clara Bellissaria is keeping tabs on tobacco selling Redd back at her station, noting that she is a 2n1 now and that the new left is different from the old right. The white horse leads, the black horse steers. Hasn’t gone off the rails yet. But soon she knew there would have to be a decision made, and Fern through her.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0304, C2077, Castle Town, GTA, Hana Lei^^, Mars^^, Nightsity, Omega^^

00430216

Fern sits down with the red book given to her by Teebestia day before yesterday’s yesterday and opens it up to the bookmark. The Martian sky was particularly rust colored today, she noted at her outdoor location, picked for privacy. Just like author Frank Lynn seeked in same before starting the work in his own backyard upon a table of not spool but it would have to do. She pulls out her knife to check the color. Yeah, she thinks, spying nothing above the handle in her hand. Definitely a rusty one. Better sheath this quick before she gets caught. Don’t want to show out a Cleveland boner, as they say. She could be president, she reminded herself. Beginning with finding the Diablo-Draco reversal in that black list of the 2 quick as a wink, unlike our friendly but dense former porn star turned nudist who was destined for a lowly one instead. The Tennessee Blue Balls sculpture in Lost Sanos is an interesting, new development, she feels — right there on page 43 and not 42 where it should be to answer all. Displaced on purpose. One after, again. Like her ship taken in here this day of mid June’s May, with unrecognized and unknown Edward Daigle only a couple of rows back, on a mission of his own. She looks down and begins to read again.

—–

I had to walk by the object basically every time I went downtown so of course I was going to start thinking about how to make it my own, what I’d do with it if it were mine. First off, it was round, not square or rectangular like most tables. I could plan my Great American Novel as a circle, like a zodiac or something. I had rough ideas. All started with Redd of course, but then worked its way around to blue (Page). Then there was the ultraviolet gap to end — how to complete the thing. The last shock.

If I could just figure out how to get it to the house, I thought at the time. Too big to get into my car. Dense head that I was, I didn’t even think about borrowing Stinch’s uncle’s cousin’s pickup truck who lives out in Grapeshot in some kind of trashy trailer park or something with a bunch of white red necks. I figured I had to roll it, but maybe that was all part of the art. Because I ended up fitting that adventure into the book as well.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0216, GTA, Mars^^

00430210 (Frank (acceptance of a proposition))

“The spool table at the beginning of the section was a tip off (spool tables play a part in a number of my collages). Keep your eyes peeled.

“And so I went back and replayed moving past the ‘Horn Girls’ sign at slow speed, got the correct angle with the leany telephone pole to display the situation as best as possible.

“Then I walked near the mega-mall heading down famed Grove Street and similarly blocked out the hyphen between the two words with a palm tree: no fairies with boots around, though, ha.”

“Ha,” Lexi responded in kind to the boss, not the big boss but the boss boss still. Someone to answer to. Which she just did.

“Then I waited at the Blue Balls sculpture until it got fully dark.”

“Blue Balls. And that’s the same as Blue Moons?”

“I suppose. Then, after narrowly avoiding getting hit by a train (he forgot to look both ways before crossing the tracks), I see Redd. Standing under a streetlamp to illuminate her cause.”

“Younger version. And you say you don’t remember the encounter but Redd does. She told you about it later.”

“Yeah. She said we… well, you know.”

Lexi sighs. This had been a long day at it and it was 3:30 in the morning. Time to send Edward, her Eddie, back to the loving arms of his non-wife Shelley.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0210, GTA, Hana Lei^^

00420306

*Interesting*. Part of Mary Ball’s Epping Woods remains over near VHC City on the Heterocera continent, although the Killing Shack there where vampire Pitch Darkly and his partner in crime and fellow vampire Buster Damm took their victims for blood sacrifices is gone. I guess that would go along with it reappearing at the bottom of a lake over on Bellissaria. And Pepper and her gallery of abstract sculptures is there too (as I wrote that, I sneezed).  Hard to forget her. She’s the one who drove Pitch (and Buster) away from VHC City in the first place, back back back to Collagesity also on the same continent at that time but many sims away to the south (Rubi Woods). We’re talking about storied lands here and tales that are approaching decades in length. Tales of banishment and at least partial redemption.

Nearby: The Void swallows.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0306, Heterocera, Rubi^, VHC City^

00400513

Turns out it was all a misunderstanding mostly created by Toddles herself. Vain and Artery Boyy and, especially, Rock didn’t have the sense to think that a legal guardian must be found for Toddles, due to the fact that she acted so *independent* around them, we’ll say. Toddles insisted they celebrate the reunion and work out the kinks of the intertwined connections later on after visiting the Millgate Halloween Festival — located to the north and west of Big Sandy on the old Bellissaria continent — before it was too late and her 2nd favorite holiday after Arbor Day was done and over with.

—–

They’d left Rock to play in a haunted sandbox outside with an object provided plastic zombie pail and ghost shovel. He would be happy for hours if needed. And Alice F., wore out from the tour already, was upstairs taking a power nap, as she described it. The bad dreams began almost instantly, like back in the Belt Days.

Which left Toddles and Vain and Artery Boyy (aka Gill) downstairs, trying to figure out a mystery. “The thing that interests me most,” spoke the precocious child, obviously precious as well, “is *not* the 2 darts through the eyes — that’s more a distraction I’m thinking. It’s the presence of that blue ball at the foot of the body. Blue, Vain and Artery Boyy. Like your better half.”

He thought of Blue Berry Girl here and the life that could have been. But too late now. She was off to the Pleiades or Andromeda or some other starry paradise high in the nighttime sky. Seeing herself seeing herself seeing herself…

“What do you mean?” he prompted, staring at it now as well.

“Well, I mean, it just doesn’t *fit*. Let’s continue thinking out loud together — why did the Lindens, or Moles whoever, put it there?”

After V&AB didn’t answer for a spell, Toddles went on. “Blue ball begets yellow ball begets red green begets green red. We’ve already been through that. The prison bowling alley. Exactly 2 sections back.”

“I–” Vain started, then stopped. He had nothing really to say. He just decided to listen to genius unfurled in front of him. Yes, he’d try to stick with the child. He’d fight for her, even, at this point. Grandmas are challengeable legal guardians he figured. Not like a mama and a papa, which apparently Toddles didn’t have. He wondered why — he’d ask the grandma as soon as she finished her nap. He’d battle on the grounds that she had a 37 year old brain inside a 3 year old’s body, ready to be released on the world.

Alice woke up in a different bed, but the shadow figure was still there, go figure. And then someone else. Not a leprechaun but similarly sized. Maybe it is some kind of leprechaun given what comes afterwards. “Hell-o!” he or she or it says innocently in a child-like voice. “Hell-ooo!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0513, Ashton Village, Bellisaria

X factor

“I’ve decided not to write trash, Eddie, my Edward.”

“Call me Eddie,” he repeated. She never listened. Much like “cousin” Tessa to Edward, the *real* Edward.

So many faux cousin/lover pairings in this novel already, and we’re not even halfway through quite yet. First there was Eddie and Edward, the faux being affixed to the lover part in that case. Then Tessa and Edward, cousin linked with faux in that example. And now supposed cousins Serenity Lane and Shelley Lane (Struthers). Let’s just have Marsha “Pink” Krakow bring up the last pairing to Edward as they’re laying in bed in their 2n1 trailer, wishing to have their cake and eat it too again.

“Edward?” she said after thinking some of these things herself, mirroring the actual author (me) once more.

“Yes?” he relented, not bothering to correct her now.

“As I was saying…”

“Oz. I know. Rock told me all about it. And Gill. What do you call him? Vain and Artery Boyy, right. And the child as well.”

“Toddles,” she said to this. To please a child, she thought.

“All 3 approached me, Rock and Toddles and then Vain and Artery Boyy separate from them. Told me how much they enjoyed the new novel and the switch of genres and how they hoped you keep it up.”

“Oh. Wonderful! I wonder why they didn’t tell me themselves?”

“Probably…” he shifts his weight in the bed, assuming a more upright position, “because you were visiting that large prison complex over in Rockaway Beach. I myself didn’t have time to tell you until now. Had to keep reinforcing to you that it’s all right, and the, ahem, tour will be over soon.”

“Took some time to get from top to bottom, yeah,” she admitted. She got pretty scared about halfway down, even though the internal bowling alley reassured her that TILE was there, even amongst all this negativity. The light shines through.

Eddie, her Edward, was with her after that — called him over. “So. Are you going to go in that direction, go back to Meat City? Or stay here in Big Sandy?”

Was that the ultimate question? Past Broadwater, the grid took over, Utah to Omega link locked in again until it bent away on the other side of town. She saw this now. She *had* to see.

“Let’s give it a couple more posts,” which is probably what I would have said in her shoes. She decided not to bring up that Serenity Lane wasn’t Shelley’s cousin but her ex-lover, her ex-wife in fact. And now since Shelley was out of the picture she apparently has designs on the “replacement”. Drugged back to Meat City against her will!  Prison of all places. She could have spent one day there, she could have spent a lifetime there. Big. Practically Big Sandy big sitting up there wide and long and thick in the sky.

Back to the sand the way she knew how. With Edward.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0313, Bellisaria, Omega^^, Sandfly, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island^, Utah