Tag Archives: CROTCH
00480102
https://www.sartle.com/artwork/soir-bleu-edward-hopper
“I’ve figured out who Edward is, Lexi. I don’t think we have to worry about Philip now as much as the castle itself and what, as he says, lives behind the walls. Realism strikes back against abstraction!”
“Say what?”
He swivels his laptop with the appropriate article pulled up toward Lexi. “The perriot. That’s Hopper. Found it pretty quickly using a search for Edward + pierrot.”
“Oh. Edward *Hopper,*” she said, recognizing at least the style. “So that’s who’s haunting the castle? A dead artist?”
“Kind of. Still unclear on that. But I’ve decided we need to have a seance. You’re the official channeller of Nawt Vaya Free State, Lexi.”
“Only because of that premonition about the alcoholic sea monster!” she says with a laugh, Hole in the Wall bar raised 100 feet in the air just in the nick of time to be saved from swallowing.
“Nevertheless, I think we should try. Else… Philip will never come back up. He’ll always be with you, Lexi. Forever… and ever. Noooooo escape.”
“Okay okay, I’ll do it,” she relents and then stares at the laptop again, the white face, the painted red lips and the cigarette sadly drooping from them. Another dropper? She imagined it spilling from his mouth, catching the crotch of his sad clown pants on fire. How to put it out how to put it out? He can’t. Not without our help.
“Tonight?” requests Frank. “I know it’s short notice but… I can’t sleep in that place now. He’s staring at me too!”
“Tonight,” acquiesced Lexi, already planning what candles and incense would be required to set the proper mood. And, of course, the Weegee board.
(to be continued)
00450207
Who is the hatted giant on the edge of the Badlands screaming his lungs out when summoned by a certain succession of loudly whistled notes?
Does he also have a burning crotch like our similarly screaming Burning Man 02 seen earlier in this here photo-novel? Or in danger of self combustion like BM 01 from that same post back there? Or does he just not like the tune? Maybe the mystery lies in it instead. Maybe, if we were also a giant trapped on the edge of a cyperpunk distopia, we would also not appreciate the whincily high pitched tune imposed on us; would be painful to our ears. Is it Barry Manilow like for this poor fellow in Hell from the 80s British comedy series “The Young Ones”?
Just random thoughts. Could be wrong on everything, including even the appearance of the giant in the first place. Might be just one of those desert mirages. Could be photoshopped. Could be a real giant but in a different, “edge” location, maybe even up in the real world as opposed to the virtual one down here (Hell too?). We’ll see if he figures into these here photo-novels ever again. Only then might we be sure.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0207, Badlands, C2077
00450112 (associations)
After being left alone in the Badlands desert without a male to ogle them, our two Mary Anne and Ginger type girls decided to play a game within the game around a warming campfire to pass the time. After all, Lexi had been summoned and Panama was already there. Just around the corner. She could return. So she did. Sister act. Act 2 of 2 can wait. Still point in the middle.
“It was right around a campfire much like this that the legend of the Burning Man began,” started Panama, wise to desert ways being the nomad she was, an outcast of the city. “A man we only know as Edward D., dancing up a storm to summon… well…”
“Me?” Lexi guessed. It could be so, Panama thought, but she pretended not to hear her and continued. “Soon, very soon, others remembered a rock with a depiction of the scene, along with the glyph 01 + 02 – 03 = 00.” Lexi repeated it to make sure she heard right and Panama nodded. “It all added — and subtracted — up — and down — to zero.”
“Hmm,” said Lexi. “Burning Man,” she summarized.
“But wait, there’s more. If you go to this rock at 3 o’clock at night you’ll find him again. The Burning Man, burning away inside a fire much like this one. You smell the flesh searing right off of him. Or so they say. You can follow him, burning away like a fireball, streaking across the desert…
… then collapsing, the screams finally silent as the fire keeps consuming.”
“Wow,” says Lexi. “That was a good story.”
“Wait. There’s more. So move the clock back to daytime — return. There’s only a dummy there, not even charred. An Arasaka robot, a crash test dummy, or so it’s been described to me.”
“Uh *huh*.”
“And *that’s* the end.”
“Great. My turn now.” Lexi already had a follow-up and was eager to get at it. “City this time now obviously — where I’m from.”
“Right,” says Panama.
“But burning man again, but in a different way.”
“Oh?” says Panama. “How?”
“Penis burn. Or some say balls. Crotch malfunction. But — get this — Arasaka again. Interesting, eh?”
“Eh?” says Panama.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0112, Badlands, C2077, Small China
alterations (Back’s story)
“Oh they’ve known about the armless giant who stands in the field quite a long time now. The most dreaded thing of all is when he turns his back on them, forgets who they are. Then he’s gone. That moment will arrive soon enough.”
“Will it?”
“Yes.”
“He’s the Ant?”
“Ant’s *replacement*.”
“Yes.”
—–
Both stared at Clyde for some reason. Instinct probably. He was hiding something behind those steely blue eyes of his. Perhaps he stole something. Perhaps he blew someone away. Maybe something between these extremes.
Some say he was rolling in dough when he had none before. No one knows where he got the money. Looks like steel it is. More precious than gold in these parts. Lots of bridges, lots of ships. Metal all used up; none to go around for other purposes. Easier to corner it on the marketplace.
Add in a corrupt mayor and you’ve got the makings of a scandal. But someone with a lot of money has to be behind it, at the center of everything, its pumping heart, supplying cash to keep the crinimal machine well oiled. Why do people do this kind of thing? A challenge, perhaps; notoriety that results. Too smart for their britches with no other proper outlet. If only they could take up painting, letters, dance, drama, poetry, reading. Stock marketplace is their only toilet fodder. How much is steel, how much *to* steal?
In the olden days such metal obsessed people might have turned to alchemy for creative release, done their souls some actual good instead of harm.
—–
“Easy as changing a 4 wheel car into a 6 wheel car.”
“Two problems,” returned W. “1st, there’s no such thing as a magnae.”
“Sure: plural of magnate. There was more than one Jay Gold. Says so in the name: Golds.”
“Highly unlikely,” opined W. “Then the extra letter in named, speaking of name.”
“Alternate spelling.”
—–
“All this is more believable than Goldsboro as a last name. Goldsboro is a *town* name.”
“True enough, I suppose. What will you do with the old sign, the sunny one?”
“Town dump; history successfully altered; 21 years of misery averted.”
“And… this will bring back the alchemy?”
“Might.”
“Better get to the people in the car.”
—–
“Dad-*dy*. How far til Uncle Roy’s? Huh, huh?” Junior held his crotch and did a small jig beside the added 5th or 6th wheel now, indicating he had to wee really bad. Mother Wanda Wannabee took him inside to the Tastee Freeze. “*Junior* gets to go inside,” continued Tommy with the complaining, watching them go through the front door of place. Last of the lunch crowd, as it turns out.
“Now now, Tommy. You know Uncle Roy’s cooked us up a nice meal of mashed potatoes and gravy jam and some other stuff. Steelton’s only 7 more miles. You can hold it in, I mean, hold out til then.”
“Ooohhhhhhh. Just… one… hot… dog.”
“This is not the place for that.”
Someone in the distance shot out one tire, then another and another and another and another… and… another. They were stuck here for a while. Tastee Freeze it is.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0301, Corsica, Kentucky, Northwest^, Pennsylvania
00350305
“Look out below!” she called, her hair not getting wet quite yet. She wanted to add, “femboy above!” but caught her tongue. Why would she say something like that? Then it hit her OOOF! She remembered. Right in the crotch stomach. Good thing she wasn’t pregnant!
—–
They later talked about it in front, a looked over final animation. Then they’d have to leave the bus or else chance just repeating themselves over and over, however pleasant the experience was the first time around. She knew she loved playing the drums now — she could find others. She knew she dug dancing, and actually there’s a line dancing joint just across the lake they can go to for that. As far as living quarters and being able to sleep and do some other stuff via animations, they had found the perfect spot, also across the lake but a little further back from the water, behind that other interesting club that always seems to contain so many avatars. She went yesterday and looked them over. All AFK, all ready to serve their purpose while the owner was in all likelihood absent from the scene. How interesting, she thought. Kind of terrifying but still…
She had no desire to join in this kind of fun. She had Johnny for the moment. When they moved into the Big Boy Apartment, she always kept a hand over his face, though; imagined someone else’s over top of it if possible. Looks aren’t everything, she knew, but they were *something*, and Johnny had none really. But he was talented in other ways.
Big Boy apartment.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0305, Omega^^, Southern, The Cross^
groundside
“I suddenly have to go pee, Hucka Doobie. Better pull off at the next convenience store. Need gas anyway. This Post is bigger than we thought! Like traversing a whole country in a microcosm, I suppose.”
“Lots of ‘P’s’ along the way for certain,” offered Hucka Doobie, tired of driving and listening to toddler-like Baker Bloch complain. Perhaps if he drives he’ll have more to occupy his mind. But she likes the company. An excuse to spend time with him. Always nice if sometimes irritating in the same moment. She instinctively feels the top of her head with a free hand. Antennae hadn’t grown back yet. Maybe they never will. Maybe they’re gone for good. She’s human through and through now. Perhaps that means…
“There!” Baker Bloch barked in his back seat driver kind of way even though he’s in the passenger seat. But it was a consignment shop and not a convenience store. Bake’s bad.
Hucka Doobie makes a sharp turn, surprised she could drive the car all the way to the store and not have to park in the road or something.
Baker gets out, checks the sign. “Stripes,” he says, seeing red all around. “Seems familiar.” He then holds the crotch of his pants with both hands while his knees knocked.
“Better get you inside before it’s too late,” said Hucka Doobie, chuckling a bit. But she too thought there was something odd about this store. And when they went inside and found apparently blood stained designer dresses on a rack in back their suspicions were verified.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, *REALITY, 0021, 0616, Texas
Sunklands 