Tag Archives: blue panther^*++

Somoco: Gothic-Deco

“Well it’s just lovely, dear.”

Like you, he thinks. He’s still smitten with her beauty after all these years. To him, she hasn’t aged hardly a bit. In his eyes. “We’ll get you some new art,” he explains about the missing piece on the wall, stolen from a gallery somewhere they both can’t recall the name of at this point. “Turning over a new leaf in this here newest version of Collagesity we are. Crinimals no more.”

“No more,” vowed his wife Lovey, the former Ms. April Mae Flowers, together the Clyde and Bonnie of Second Life art thievery. She reaches across the table to hold his hand. A team still they are, just on the right side of the law this go around. But then her mind starting wandering back to one particular piece specifically, the one that earned them their nickname of Humanvillians at the time of the steal. She was picking up on the psychic vibe of the community in her gifted way (so many residents with “gifts”!). Intuitively, she knew about the cave, the railroad, the train, the castle, the deity within who needed to return home so badly, whether it be Missouri or Kentucky or Oklahoma or some other state, even a state of mind.

“I’m glad that man I killed in Collagesity is still floating in the pool back there. A constant reminder of the errors of my way. We’ll keep him there.”

“The… gardener,” Herbert Gold, in turn, reminded his wife, thinking they really *both* killed him. Since he was his rival for her hand back in ’72. The Zoo Year; all the monkeys let loose; everything *bananas* (flying about). Who knows who did in who at the time, or who cheated on her husband and/or wife during any particular stretch. That Zoo needed to be closed, become a fossil. That Zoo was also Boos, the gallery, the collages. Did I say ’72? I meant 2017. 2016, actually, although 7 is a funnier number than 6. Sepisexton.

At the bottom of the hill below Herbert and Lovey’s new house, Sepisexton pulls in with Paul. They’re here about the art.

“Just up there,” she points. “Let’s go,” Paul says, ready to spew some acidities.

(to be continued)

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Eagle Hell

“We should end here. On this Heart Line. Mind if I join you?” she then requested via im. I sent her a teleport invite, but she didn’t land in the right spot. She was over her head in lava.

“Huckaaaa!!!!!”

—–

And so we finish just like Paul Panther did. Our hero, or heroine in this case, consumed by a fiery volcano. But sacrifice for a greater good again, I suppose, “bad” guys chopped up like suey with his surfboard.

“Bazoooo!!!!!”

Then after the fall, NY Cop scrambles over the rocks at the top and assumes attack position.

“Alright, everybody freeze!!!!!”

Everything’s going to be okay.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0705, Heterocera

00300615

“She’s coming mum, sire!” called the gardener through the window, having nothing to do now except be a watchdog since there wasn’t a garden in this new location. Only flat plywood covered with a light snow.

“Do you think she found him?” asked Herbert Gold over to his wife, often his partner in crime. The latest theft: “The Blue Panther” by Horace Go Lightly of Spain’s France, prized for its use of cobalt in a thin veneer.

“Doubtful,” replied April Mae Flowers, out on bail from Collagesity jail and thus able to help her hubby with setting up the new house. She just had to have the “Panther”, bail or no bail. She talked her husband into it. As she always could. A team once more, just like Baker Bloch and Wheeler thanks to Nauty. Googling the safest and most efficient way to commit the crime, they bought a fishing pole and lifted it out of a transparent ceiling. Suc-cess!

“She’s pulling in now, sire, mum. She has something in her boat. She has *someone* in her… boat?”

The house never stood a chance.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0615, Crisp Sea, Nautilus, Wild West

go team

“This blue panther on the western edge of Crisp Sea,” he spoke in a surprisingly regular voice for such a cartoony figure. “Is that the same as Paul?” He was helping. He really was.

“I don’t know. I’ll send Wheeler over there to take the plunge.” Plunge was code for “going (further) inworld”, at least between us new buds. How lucky I was to find him as a relative freebie on the marketplace, this pin cushiony little fellow!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0613, Collagesity Fordham, Crisp Sea, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

!oosaB

He arrives in a red boat from Ten Pages. He thinks it may be the end of His Second Lyfe, Venus caged. The witch would know, if he could find her. Probably here, don’t you think? Probably here, I think.

Looks like 3 6’s to me. Maybe they’ll be okay.

They waited for the arrival of the legendary surfing blue panther but he never came. Or at least Sozzy Bozo missed him, mask over eyes instead of mouth.

Yoko Ona, fresh from a rock’n commercial over in Enigma, was fixing up a batch of her patented octopus balls in the kitchen and had her back turned, engrossed in her witchy ways under the stove vent.

Maybe next time.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0410, Crisp Sea, Nautilus, Wild West

red to blue

“Interesting tatoos.”

“Thanks.”

“So, are you going to join this Umbrella group, or not?”

“Don’t know. Depends on how the shrimp goes.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Food is my guide.”

“I hear ya.”

—–

“So, where’re you from?”

“Place called Spoiled Rotten.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. Got 4 daddies. And one biological one too although I usually don’t count him. 3 daddies, then. No: 4. Forgot about Fred.”

“You sound like quite the catch (!). Is it the tattoos? Should I get some? Who would you recommend? *What* would you recommend?”

“Tattoos?” She was only half listening to that last paragraph, instead thinking about Fred and how she needs to call him.

“Yeah.”

She readjusted her colorful legs, a story on each one. She spoke in general. “You have to appease your daddies so stuff like ‘I’m yours,’ or ‘Daddy’s baby’.”

“Lemme guess,” the untattooed one said back. “Even though *you’re* in control.” Observing from her position, she was thinking: 3 9’s make a 6.

“Yeah baby.” Both giggle.

“How about you?”

“Oh, a nowhere place. Vanilla mom and dad. An uncle who was a prevert. That’s why they sent me away.”

“To this camp, yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Well…?” Same for her? she was pondering. Could she have found, a friend?

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