Tag Archives: Chroma^^^*

In the Pond District today:

Axis found a black and white girl slumped against a Rodentia dumpster but did not know who she was. She didn’t open her eyes.

Tealie woke Jiff up in a bad mood, who did not wish to play right this minute.

So she instead goes to visit the grave of her old friend Matthew Lodenwald. What a blow to the community when he died!

Bob Richards continues to reads scrapbooks of the war and laments how he will never see his beloved Alpha again. Oh dear, looks like Li’l Bob’s jumped out of his crib.

Uncle Doomed drinks Jack Daniels in front of the neighbor’s Blob until passing out.

Lucas Smart tries to figure out how his life went so wrong.

Chris Caveman lumbers out of the Rodentia Underground, worse off from the experience.

In the local arcade, punk band Story Room prepares to play Cruise Control with newbie Grassy Noll, snickering about whether he’ll even make it out of the first turn.

Also in the arcade, Bill (Wheeler) confers with Rocky Racco about her most recent name change and move to Iris. “Heterocera is still at the fore of my research,” she reassures the learned writer. “I haven’t forgotten about Olde Lapara Towne, Collagesity, VHC City, or any of the rest.”

“Good, Wheeler.” He scratches his nose with his free paw. “Did you know that my cousin Tealie now lives in this area?”

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Filed under *Second Life, collage, Heterocera^^, Pond District^

zircon

Bill (Wheeler) spoke over the loud, synchronized drumming. “These guys are nice, Grassy, but I feel something is missing. Why don’t you go up and join them! You played a mean bass steel pan in your college days, didn’t you? The Merrymen wasn’t it?”

“We *emulated* The Merrymen,” the Mmmmmm Grassy clarified. “Played a lot of their songs. But Calypso and the Carribean are far back in the rear view mirror now.” He sighed. “We better head over and meet Catvas I and Catvas II for bridge.  I’m afraid that’ll have to do for our synchronized quartet tonight, ha.”

“Catvas I always smells of bird,” Bill complains. “And Catvas II of fish.”

“You smell of lion,” Grassy continued the grousing. “And I smell of, um, sodden earth? Haystacks?” He looks down at his white, sneakered feet. “Haven’t quite pinned it down.”

“We’ll get to Montana and then we’ll know.” Bill leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Got any more of that wacky weed on ya? I brought some tweezers.”

“Then I’ve got the pony, hehe. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

“I dig!”

—–

Bill carefully laid down the now empty tweezers on the seating. “Ahh. Life is good, Grassy. Grass. But all this reminds me.” She waves her arm around to indicate. “I really should get back to that chess game with Ellen.”

“You’re lion *snicker*”.

—–

15 minutes later:

“I wonder what the Catvases did tonight in our stead?”

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Revealing

Upon reaching the cave’s upper mouth — leaving The Musician behind in its bowels again while she scouts for additional, useful poses — Wheeler spies Willard and Harriet Miller dancing up a storm in a nearby gazebo.

Then something extraordinary happens. The couple instantly cease their gyrating, then Harriet appears to fall asleep on the spot. Like she’s “away”, as we say in Second Lyfe speak.

Another takes her place. Jimmy. The *bastard*, Wheeler thinks. He’s asleep too, for a moment, then springs awake.

“You can go now,” Wheeler can hear him say faintly from her position. He’s apparently speaking to Willard Miller, for just after this the husband of Harriet Miller vanishes — poofs out of existence.

“It’s time to come out of the closet, er cave,” he then calls in the direction of Wheeler. “It’s time for you guys to remember who you are. The upper 2/3rds of the infamous punk band Story Room, with me completing the trilogy.

Jimmy approaches the cave mouth, still quite red but now much taller. And also a woman.

Tammy Whatammy?

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thorny situation

The Musician as Sikul Himakt was having that dream about roses again. Scene: VHC City; The Diagonal.

He sits in front of a video game featuring the Rising Sun with an odd retro cartoon punk who speaks Japanese.

In the dream he understands him. “There’s no side to choose,” he says as the game remains unplayed. Tiny Hermania looks down from the center of her rose tinted world, protesting the idea. “Choose!” she calls while hanging from a vine.

He grasps the red joystick opposite the green one. Pain! They were at the island tree, then. The Musician once again shows the cartoon punk the wound on his outturned hand.

The other hand he keeps to himself.

“I will remove the thorn and make this one better too,” he says, still speaking somehow understandable Japanese. The Musician starts to wake up. “I will make this better.”

—–

He stares up at Chroma Jimmy, who is wrapping his left hand. The right one has already been bandaged. He sits on the Asian couch at their lodgings. Jimmy chatters while continuing his twirlings. “As I said, I’m a physicist not a physician. But I worked with a man at the Australian Astronomical Observatory who studied stellar anomalies in the Southern Cross for years. Same thing happened to his hands, and also his side. Stigmata it’s called. Identification with the crucified Christ.” The Musician was about to protest that he wasn’t religious when Jimmy guessed the confusion. “Doesn’t matter about your faith. Something else is behind it. Philip wasn’t religious either, but he was a fanatic. Of science. Perhaps that’s all it takes. And… there, that should do it. The bleeding doesn’t seem to be stopping but it’s slowed down. Maybe that’s all we can ask of this condition, if yours tracks with Philip’s.”

“And stay away from that blasted island!” added Wheeler forcefully behind him.

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stories

“See Musician? I told you I’d send for you.

Just had to find the right pose.”

“Let’s find another one,” he demanded.

—–

“Not as good, Wheeler Wilson.”

“Shmursguug.”

—–

“I don’t understand what we’re doing here, Wheeler.”

“Shut up and get off my back you heavy lug.”

—–

“Another one with the back, Musician.”

“I think you’re suppose to be the man here, Wheeler.”

“Typical. And you’re getting your pink punk hair in my eye again.”

“A couple more still,” he requests.

—–

“It’s the owl’s head ring, Musician, hehe. Go ahead. You know you wanna.”

“Oh Jesus me,” he croons playfully while still clasping hand to mouth.

—–

“Psst. Don’t look now, Musician,” Wheeler whispered. “But that little red man is back again, ha.”

—–

“I’m pregnant, Wheeler Wilson. And this man who’s been following us around is our future son Sammy.”

“Makes sense.”

But then Jimmy breaks the spell. “Hi. I was wondering if you knew where the bathrooms are around here.”

—–

“I kind of miss Jimmy since he left, Wheeler.”

“Me too.”

“Let’s go find him and invite him to lunch with us.”

“Great idea!”

—–

“This is my favorite one of all.”

“Look, Musician, there’s Jimmy. Over here Jimmy!”

—–

“Trade with me, punk. I want to get to know Jimmy better.”

—–

“Service around here is awful, eh Jimmy?”

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Greg and Gregg

“Interrupted your little party you were planning tonight, did I Baker Bloch? Thought you were going to start the Greg Ogden story without me, did you? You and your fancy town here. I have a town too. Would you like to see?”

Not staring at it, Greg Ogden turned toward Baker Bloch on the couch, who is also looking away. “Which one of us is *real*??” he demands.

“Don’t do that.”


Unseen artwork upstairs (“Hidden Vilage”).

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Heterocera^^, Maryland, Rubi^, UmapS, Utah

interruption

Baker Bloch decides to pay a visit to new guy Greg, who is actually, beneath it all, old gal Chroma. He’s heard of a new artwork, a seed it’s been called.

Wall of Jasper, he thinks after teleporting up and looking over at Norum. And Jacob I. trapped within still, the dreamer. That will change soon. Collagesity must prepare.

Wheeler Wilson shows up as well. “Who am I playing tonight?” he quickly starts.

“Me.”

“Okay,” he then says after changing appropriately. “And who are you?”

Baker shows him.

“Ahh, Old Gregg.”

“New Greg, actually. Greg Ogden, not Gregg Oden. And he’s got a fresh piece of art he wants us to see. Don’t expect much. He’s too obsessed with regularity and symmetry to be a successful artist.”

“We better get into character,” suggests Wilson-as-Baker. “What are you looking at?”

“Sh-t,” he says.

Baker sighs. “We better see what he’s up to.”

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