Inspector Petty, chef no more, continues to stare at the Anton pin stuck in the lower left center of the Anson sim while June Bug Johnston behind him reads her diary atop the spread out US and UK Dennis’. “Eureka!” he cried just as Father Fecked outside points to him. “Time machine!”
END OF “SUNKLANDS 2025-2026 WINTER”!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0616, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Nautilus City, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS
Turns out Frank’s visit to Rodentia was a red herring with Blue Moon and him arriving at an empty parcel after walking from the King’s Head instead of the expected, run down house with a death bed and observing chairs. So that the *actual* Mouse, reduced to a cane, could make his point. Frank missed him coming around the corner toward Petty’s detective agency by about 30 seconds (let’s set it) while standing outside Daisy’s Hole in the Wall bar. Close, The Powers that Be think. A little too close.
“Here!” he says gruffly, as is his style, cane indicating the final destination with the right hand while perpetually refreshed Jim Beamed bottle still firmly grasped by the left.
“You sure?” said traveling companion Plastiman behind him outside the queer, small building that seems so out of place in the otherwise concrete environment. They didn’t grasp that it was a developing mini-mall with several other businesses besides this one. They hadn’t rounded the corner yet, come across Frank’s phone spot and then Daisy’s bar just beyond. Nor Ray’s Pizza across from the bar. And I should mention, they lost Pigg and Bully somewhere on their journey across several Bellisaria continents/sub-continents and down the spine of Jeogeot to here. But I don’t believe they’ve even noticed, the two were so irrelevant to our overall story in this here photo-novel 49. Swiftly coming to an end (!). So let’s get to it…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0615, Bellisaria, Dokken Hollow+, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Nautilus City, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS
Leftover maps, Arkansas and Kentucky.
Arkansas first — Pope County.
Relevant names so far: Solo, Gabriel, Russellville, Pottsville, Scottsville, Alpha
Relevant info: Solo + Gabriel as in Peter Gabriel’s solo career where he escapes Lamb (Genesis’ towering achievement “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” double concept album) via, originally, the single “Solsbury Hill”. Pottsville as in Gorillaz’s 2-D whose last name is Pot without the extra T, Scottsville reinforcing Pottsville by being directly north of it. Russellville as in Gorillaz’s Russel without the extra L. Alpha down at the bottom already paired with just off the map Omega in this here photo-novel to represent core avatar Wheeler who was created last but has become the first in importance, the heart of the process.
Kentucky next — Hopkins County. A direct continuation.
Relevant names this time: Silentrun, Mortons Gap, Anson, Ansonia, Hanson.
Relevant info this time: Silentrun Ck. is alternately named Lambs Ck., as in Gorillaz’s “Silent Running” video with 2-D wearing a Lamb t-shirt and being sacrificed as such by the Forever Cult to their underground Lord of Darkness. This is Gabriel who didn’t escape Lamb and remained with the Genesis band. Mortons Gap as in the location of one of Barry De Boy’s “Does This Look Square to You?” series of collages seen in section 05 I believe. A stand-in for my last personal collage ever, perhaps, also directly related to Genesis (using “Foxtrot” album cover coming a bit before “Lamb”). Ansonia as in Charles Anson, similar to Gorillaz’s Manson and likewise a hater of the band he use to work for and trying to prevent them from forming in the first place through some kind of time machine, with similar names Anton and Hanson nearby to reinforce the association.
Getting that out of the way we can continue…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0613, Arkansas, collages 2d, Ebbert, Kentucky, Nautilus, Nautilus City, Willow Hill
Almost as soon as they entered the toilet haunted by a pair of hands and who knows else, Zoomer’s police-issued light went out. “At least our galoshes are holding up,” Petty tried to shine another bright spot on their investigation, figurative this time, the most important kind some say. But Zoomer and Ziegler suddenly were nowhere to be found. In the darkness, Petty must have stumbled into a commode and fallen down into the sewer itself, the source of it all. As soon as this happened all the bathroom lights came back on by themselves and all the pissers and otherwise who had followed the police trio in easily found their own way to commodes and urinals and, if needed due to limited space, sinks and even waste bins and wall corners by this point.
Light also eventually found Petty again as he bumbled and stumbled down that pretty if stinky sewage cascade seen in the below snapshot to a confluence of flows in a more open area. Rattling sounds behind him. He turns.
“*There* you are you little devils,” he said, but the spotted hands kept to their task, fiddling with a bike chassis, almost as if they were trying to repair it in their inept way while actually just scuffling it about aimlessly on the concrete floor. “You know, that bike is lacking wheels,” Petty tried to help, understanding the hands probably couldn’t see and were working on limited feel alone. “Or a seat for that matter. You’ll never be able to get it to work if that’s what you’re trying to do.” No “answer” from the hands; did they even *hear* him? he thinks. No ears too after all. That must be it, he determined. He decides to go over and gently rattle the chassis himself, make the hands aware that he’s here too.
But as he bends down and grasps the bike part…
… he’s suddenly leaning against the wall on the other side with his feet in it instead, his hands grasping something else. Inside he sees the center which is also the end. He unfolds, revealing the full truth. “WOW-za,” were the last words he speaks in this post. We can proceed.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0415, Jeogeot, Newtown+
“I’m having a little trouble playing the ‘Pathétique’, Shelley. A little help here, hmm?”
“On your own,” she said, busy with her own activity (limbering up for her shooting). And so it goes.
—–
“Okay, where’s the body, Zeigler, Zoomer?” asks Chef-Inspector Petty, freshly arrived on the scene. The Z’s, he thinks here. Appropriate… always asleep at the wheel. “I mean, there’s an outline here. That means….” Then he spies the blood coming from under the toilet door. “O-kay, what’s going on over *there*?”
“W-we didn’t know what to do Inspector,” Zeigler the male officer of the two tries to explain.
“*Chef*-Inspector,” says Petty to this, being petty about his official title as is appropriate here. “Don’t forget the day job. I certainly can’t.”
“Hands, sir,” takes over Zoomer the female one. “We don’t…. know how that much blood can come–”
“Open the door,” commands Petty. “I want to see.”
“You won’t like it,” says Zeigler.
“Open — it,” he metes out. “And for God’s sake arrest or at least fine that man — I think — taking a piss against that wall! No public urination, nevermind the circumstances!”
“Yes sir.” But neither move.
“Wellll?”
“Which — one,” stutters Zoomer, “would you like us to do first?”
Petty sighs deeply. “Just open the door.”
After it’s opened remotely, he watches all the toilet related objects thrown out of the blackness — toilet paper rolls, toilet brush, urinal deodorizer — then settle on the floor and subsequently disappear. Finally, after all the clanking and skidding and rolling is over: “Hands, huh?”
“Yes sir,” said Zoomer. “We shown a flashlight in there.”
“Hands doing everything — all the throwing,” emphasized Zeigler. “We don’t know how much blood–”
“Stop,” he said. “Go,” he points. And they put on their police-issued galoshes and went inside. Other wannabe pissers and otherwise quickly followed in their footsteps. Only public toilet within a 1/2 mile radius, you see. Messy, haunted bathroom or not, they had to go too.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0414, Jeogeot, Newtown+
“Investigating a murder, ma’am. Blue Moon Kentucky. Know anything? A-bout it?”
“My Son!” she cried upon seeing him beam in on a ray of light. “Come back to me.”
“No ma’am. Not your Son. Or your Sun for that matter if that’s what you meant. Despite the beam and ray thing going on here beneath me.” But then he thought again. Clue!
Barry De Boy wakes up, immediately googles “Elvis Esley”. Or was it Isley?
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0506, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, SG Park
Drew Grumpy Cleveland now had to wear 3 hats instead of 1. Co-manager of the Yalta Bar still he was, and then fill in for Barry De Boy (other bar co-manager) and Wendy (town gatekeeper), both of whom had skedaddled off to who knows where. So the bar was self service a lot of the time, thus Fern and Lichen having to serve their own beers before that fated walk where they found the big cube blocking their passage forward, dropped down from heaven or such by the Big Bosses and therefore couldn’t be moved or deleted by anyone else. But the same was also cutting down overall business here in Castle Town of Omega’s deep south, and so Drew had time to nap on, actually, all 3 jobs. Just like Petty in Aisle of Palms — at least before he was sacked because of it — managed to keep up with his sleep due to low tourism and attached cash flow in his several jobs there. Grumpy also had time to study the bookcase lists — like now. He had the 2 side by side again, just like he presented to Fern toward the beginning of this here photo-novel.
White to the left, Black to the right. But, somehow someway, Diablo *wasn’t* switched or reversed with the following word Draco in the second (Black) list like before. Going along with this, former porn star and current nudist Drew was president instead of janitor at the Martian Asylum Inc. business, roles reversed there as well, lowest flips with highest. He knows even if he loses all 3 Castle Town jobs his place on a pedestal in heaven is secured. And perhaps that’s the reason for the highest of higher ups to drop the cube on the town in the first place. To change reality so that Drew is king. We’ll see.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0516, Castle Town+, Omega
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!
He’d left her alone to study further as he went back to Perch, but how much more was there to learn? She knew the VW was X-ed out for a purpose which then has something to do with this hidden office of his in Aisle of Palms’ so-called Cement Village, still being developed, still being filled in. The whole place was named for the event.
Things were getting fuzzy as the current novel recedes and the next novel begins to focus in. Like a right eye being closed and a left opened, we must shift from one to the other to keep having visions. My apologies to the reader for leaving so many questions unanswered but it’s all part of the game. 42 will answer EVERYTHING. I promise.
End of “Sunklands 2023-2024 Winter”!
“The only Theft name of *any* kind in the US according to the old GNIS database was ‘West Central Texas Auto Theft Task Force’, a building in downtown Anson TX. The new database contains no listings with Theft. The old location, the whole *name*, was *stolen*, in effect: theft of Theft. I actually visited the site and found no Auto Theft Task Force office, much less a whole building devoted to the matter. I looked all around the supposed address, with only a bricked up side door and an unmarked back door fitting the Google Map directions. My theory is that it only existed in the first place as an indicator.”
Petty was furiously taking notes opposite yammering June Bug Johnston at his small office in the so-called Cement Village, hidden itself from the surrounding town of Aisle of Palms. The discovery of the 2 matching Dennis’ issued forth a torrent of words. She was *so* close to the answer (The End). The sun having rising about a 1/2 hour back now, he was late for his other job at the Perch Restaurant. But Manager Percy would understand. Overlaps sometimes happen with such a busy soul. Many a night he postponed sleuthing activities when a late dinner party arrived, or a bus full of tourists pulled up 5 minutes before closing. Too bad Percy doesn’t believe in phones or he’d ring him up. Mother’s exploded after she left it ringing too long one day; killed her and mortally wounded Aunt Gertrude who was playing strip poker with her at the time. Blew off a valuable piece of her body but she survived. His mother Wanda Bertaaa Doris’s naked parts were scattered about like a broken Humpty Dumpty. Speaking of which…
“… Humpty Dumpty sea ship modified into a space ship,” June Bug continued in sync with my own internal dialog. “Jim the Bastard Pirate–”
“Wait. *The* Bastard Pirate? Jim Randolph?”
“The same. Anyway he was *suppose* to pilot the ship all the way to the Red Dead planet but he crashed in the sea. Thing couldn’t take the pressure of the strange atmosphere and anyway, he took the wrong ship indicated by his pirate pal Black Pearl, wise in such matters.”
Chef-Inspector Petty, still an inspector despite being on the clock as a chef (and a waiter), thought back to his giant self peering out over tops of internal Cement Village buildings to the new ship parked out back, ready for space exploration according to all the rumors and gossip about town. The *correct* ship according to Black Pearl. Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate had gotten the wrong vehicle from the right creator as we spoke about before.
Petty’s sharp ears then heard the ominous roar of a tour bus roll into town from the south. “*F -it,* June Bug,” he cussed, checking his nonexistent watch again. “We’ll have to resume all this in another post. Gotta get to the restaurant!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0706, Big Woods, Google Street View, GTA, Jeogeot, RDR2, Texas
Sunklands 