Tag Archives: Campbell O’Pine (Opp)^*++++

00290411

“In the big scheme of things,” he declared in his big voice, made for a tyrant, “the Earth and the Moon are the same size, although, true, the Sun remains considerably larger than either. We’re working on it.”

“The Sun too?” Alysha said by his side, following him around like a little puppy. The Master, she thinks excitedly, watching him walk tall to match his tall talk. But don’t call him that around Lena and Zach (!).

“Yes. Let’s move to Rose’s brother — 1/2 brother actually. The alien was a deflection of course. Two hearted green Martians are a dime a dozen where I’m from. We’ve solved their anatomy ages ago.”

“Marvelous,” Alysha cooed, looking into his pepper grey hair to match his eyes. And I wasted all that time cubing her and seeing what made her tick. The Master knew all along (!). He added this and that and that to her knowledge. She knows about the Man About Time now and what makes him tick as well. A man named Tick actually. Ironically. Oh joy, he’s speaking again.

“The birthday hat at the top,” he began after looking the “specimen” over. “Thoughts? Ideas?”

“Weelll,” Alysha tried, “I’d say it stands for the body itself, controls it like a Controller.”

“What happens if you remove the hat?” The Master Blue Feather Douglas stared deep into her eyes, grey penetrating almond. Her mind is good! he thinks from his superior position. She could be next on my specimen list.

“A conundrum,” she spoke. “A riddle,” she said. “You… *can’t*,” she concluded.

“No, instead you have to merge it with another body.” Blue Feather Douglas was pleased. This was enough for today. She’d learn more tomorrow. Or whenever he wished.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0029, 0411, Blue Feather Sea^, Maebaleia/Satori

Bell is serial

“Honey?”

“Yes, Homie.” So raspy. She was between compositions now, deciding what to play next at her beloved pink upright.

“Do we know anyone named Wells, as in well well well?” The internet search had rung a bell. “Indian Wells”, the name on several of his daughter’s records, the stuff he couldn’t stomach in the least. “Well Well Well, If It Isn’t Indian,” was a particular (comeback) album that stuck out for him. He set aside the pictures of donuts for just one minute and tried it.

“*Well, Homie, they were our next door neighbors for 15 years is all.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, the musical family. The ones you couldn’t stand.”

“I can’t stand *any* of our neighbors.”

“Well you should get to know them better… obviously. They moved away I suppose, hmmm, about 5 years ago. Right before…” She stopped. She didn’t want to talk about Bartholomew and how he left in the middle of the night after declaring all of them 2 dimensional and unreal. He’d had enough. Now he’s sorry and wishes to return to the good graces of the father especially. But Homer would have none of it — sic Itchy the family dog on him if necessary to chase him away again. But Bartholomew is still trying, with new boss Alysha’s urging. Maybe it wasn’t worth it to keep knocking on and beating on and pleading through a front door that would remain locked, doorbell never rung. Because *Lisa* knew how to ring the bell, making their hearts sing. Wild thing remains ostracized, despite Lisa’s support. She’s in touch with Alysha as well; wonders about her change from black to red hair. My cousin dyed her hair red, she ponders one night while listening to the adored, atonal croonings of Indian Wells again on her pink record player upstairs, Primary Rabbit and a peculiar, sticky-outy potted plant between them. Made her wild as well… like Bart. She imagines embracing him again, pretending he is real and standing before her. The little yellow fellow, always smaller than her despite the age advantage. He told his father that he was going to straighten his life out, stop going in circles forever and ever and that he knew he was in a rut. But his father was too much like him and wouldn’t listen.

“I’m going to shut the computer off now,” he rather shouted over to Marg, who had started again. She stopped and imagined them switching places, she at his computer and he at her piano. What would *he* compose? Something like Indian Wells? Wouldn’t that be just.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0029, 0408, Bellisaria, Continent 02

00290407

This is what she studies, Duncan, this *Rose* Wells. Boxes… cubes I suppose.

“Borneo?” He’d heard that name before. Something about corn.

—–

The blue sphere appears. Duncan disappears. Duncan saw too much in the field! Field “on”, and then he was there — in Reality — beyond the 300 or starting with the 300. Fieldon town limits.

The 2 blue spheres were 2 1/2 years apart, meaning that they were opposite each other — in the garden representing our solar system or an Earth limited one, with The Sun in the center (19). And what about The Observer there, watching from a table on the edge of the property? Fortress: Duncan was warned not to go back, and that maybe rats were there, perhaps similar to the ones within the tulips that make them move in oh so mysterious ways.

He was trying to mark the way (to the Fortress) with well placed toys. But they were not allowed here? White moves on beyond Black (Duncan) with Red, with Red obviously equaling Indian Wells now, both Asian and American at once. White Mage, in this scenario, is merely Hidi again.

“Primary Rabbit?” he asks, back at the home with the mannequins out front.

“Yesss?”

“I think… I’m ready to move beyond Black.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0029, 0407, Bellisaria, Blue Feather Sea^, Continent 02, Eveningwood, Hand Spring, Herman Park, Illinois, Maebaleia/Satori, Tile Creek, Yards Creek, Yards Mountain, Yaya Land

oh boy

He was paler behind the smoky glass but Duncan knew who this was. Indian Wells, part Asian part American. The 3rd wheel to complete the black and white, male and female synthesis. Because everything that was understandable needed to be read… red. It was his job (to observe). He noted the presence and moved on, later thinking how he could get the lost musician back to the other Wells. Little did he know that sister Rosie was behind the disappearance all along. They were studying him (!).

White Mage: I think I’ve changed my mind. I *will* join the new storyline.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0029, 0308, Blue Feather Sea^, Maebaleia/Satori

00280104

“Queer dream,” states the now black Chief in his bar by the blue swamp in the southwest corner of Paper-Soap. “Say the girl’s name is Atrophia?”

“That’s what she said. Blue hair. Blue as Heaven.” The visiting Aldebaronian glanced at his wrist. 4:20? Not on *his* watch.

Black Chief looks out the door of the small bar. “Rain now. Swamp will be getting pretty damp soon. Better rev up the dehumidifier, um, Stu. That *is* your name today, isn’t it?”

Stu Umbriel, who goes by many names since that cursed birthday party about 1 month back now where bodies began to merge together in queer ways, smiles and says it is so. “Today,” he reinforced. He moves around back to crank up the moisture removal device, which he knows the ins and outs of better than Chief, being a regular moisture producer himself. In fact: better take a leak behind the bar after I roll this baby out in the middle of the room, he thinks. He glances down. This blue blue baby. Blue? Center? Just like the (stranger’s) dream.

The rain gets harder. “Yelloo!” he exclaims behind the bar, getting wetter all the time.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0104, Paper Soap, Soap

Yelloo!

After work, Wheeler returned to the theatre to watch more of Kane, studying each clap closely. Stu Umbriel mosied in, and seeing Wheeler down front suddenly had a hankering for a frozen one. Kolya (aka Ben aka Gus) came in immediately afterward — they either walked or drove over together — and then the last of their party sauntered inside as well, a person they derogatorily called Chief, because of his Indian heritage. Thing is he sat down on *top* of Kolya and kind of merged with him, Devil power showing its pitchforked ways again. Stu didn’t look over, just glad it wasn’t him this time. Chief had been taken over for sure. Maybe it’s the common redness, he speculated while woofing down another popped kernel. He watched Wheeler pop in hers. Maybe they could pop some common food together sometime, he thinks, seeing something different in the claps as well. Just keep studying, he said to himself. We’ll compare notes later. As soon as I can ditch the Devil Boys.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0027, 0611, Paper Soap, Soap

merging tracks

“New bar in town, Chief.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not an Indian any more. I’m an *American*, dammit.”

“Sure you are Chief. Anyway, Gus and I…”

“Gus? Since when did you start calling yourself Gus, Ben?”

“Since, I don’t know, yesterday?” Distant but distinct.

“*Forever*,” countered Stan, formerly Stu. “You’ve always been Gus.” He turns to Chief. “He’s *always* been Gus.”

—–

Slowly but surely, they traced all the confusion back to that birthday party where they summoned The Devil.

“Oh yeah,” spoke Ben at the time. “Guess that could have done it.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0027, 0504, Paper Soap, Soap

new direction

She’d lost her spaceship. She thinks she may have left it back in what the locals called Mayberry, an airy mountain of a hill (or something). But she was too tired from all the walking and searching to get off these Lost Angel chairs right now. Maybe in a 1/2 an hour. But maybe: never. The many and the *done*. Truth be told, she was a variant character anyway and will probably not be missed.

—–

Troop was a truly important character though, and it’s baked into his name: True Opp. He started out as a “mere” toy, an Mmmmmm, just like his cousin Grassy from another mother who just happens to be sisters with his own. They don’t talk about Jerry any more. And Philburt is right out of any discussion between them. But Uranus… ahh, that’s a different topic and one that’s interested both of ’em for a long time, starting way back when Tropp, then just Opp or Campbell O’Pine, had his first (Sunklands blog) post dedicated to himself.

“Well it looks like I found it, Grassy,” he says 1/2 to himself, since the only other person in the room was only 1/2 listening. “Uranus; the blue planet.”

“There’s someone out there, in the dunes,” the other person spoke. “Someone… fidgety.”

“Okay, CUT! Let’s change fidgety to nervous. Is that okay, Campbell?”

In another scene later that day:

“Alright, then the crook comes in and you drop your gun and it hits the floor and goes off, hitting your right heel. This is going to be *hilarious*.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0027, 0312, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

Y and Z are 10 and 11

It was time for a longer post else we get off track. Wendy had her man, strapped to the Big Wheel, a prisoner in other words. In his own pirate ship: trapped by a woman of all things. But he suspected a man-woman because of the strength, the speed. He was wrong… kind of. “Gotcha!” she exclaimed as the tire iron came down on the knees and then the head. If she was truly a man he might be dead. As it was, he almost bled out, but was brought back by her powers of the mind. Hidalgo — but enough said of that (magic practice) which also gained her many more years than her immortal contemporaries. Only Mummy Suisan out in Swannanowhere had outlasted her. How many years now? She decided to count them out tonight (again) while — whatshisname listened in, helpless to turn off his ears by plugging them with his fingers or something. That was another point to this. She decided to use the base 12 way of counting just to prolong the agony a bit more for him. She stopped at 143Z to see if his head had started to bleed again (only a little). At 1Y876, she thought of the 765 Village and the hidden green grey alien there and how Brut or Burt or Brutus had turned all traitor on her and taken over the Fortress for himself in its two locations to bind the magic more tightly. She hit (whatshisname) on the noggin again simply because she was frustrated now. And, heck, she’d lost her count. She’d have to start over again. At 765 she spaced out and lost count a second time. “One,” she began once more, “twooooooo (*yawn*).” Finally getting sleeepy. She lets him hold her in his arms but just one trick and he’s back on the wheel. She uses the rest of her daily brain power to heal his head completely.

Out like a light now, but this was a test. She knew he could twist her head off if he desired — she had given him her superpowers as well. But if he still had the *mistletoe* somewhere upon his body — and she knew he did — then: no. That small sprig of evergreen would take them both a long long ways.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0027, 0311, Hana Lei^^

name of thrones

She spoke down to him, hoping he would complement her shoes. “No, this is the Pearl Throne, not Pear. I’m afraid you have the wrong location.”

“I’m sorry mum.” He begins to take his leave. Seems he’d journeyed a long way for nutt’n.

“WAIT.” Sally suddenly recognized him. “You’re… the man under the mistletoe. I know you from that portrait.” He was in disguise but the pointy ears he tried to hide under his antique slouch cap gave him away. This was a man of Jupiter — another planet.

“Lose the old skin,” she commanded from her perch, with mistletoe just behind. “Lose the cap as well. Heck just put on your birthday hat and come here.”

—–

“I swear it’s here somewhere. Eddy,” she spoke to the sea turtle floating before her. “Do you know?”

“I’m sorry mum,” and took his leave.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0027, 0309, Hana Lei^^