After all the actual avatars had moved over to Perch (diner) for after-meeting drinks, Gordie Down, formerly Curled Paper, said his first meaningful word for no one except us, the reader and the writer of this here blog. “Grote,” he uttered, not loud enough to attract the attention of others. Instantly he felt his physique change, growing in some spots and retreating in others; no need for Baker to get those apples. For the first time, he-turned-to-she began to dream. The result was a whole book which remains unpublished to this day, “Winesap” taking its place in the instant of the moment.
Tag Archives: Curled Paper/Gordie Down^^~!#
If only they could have brought the ocean all the way up to the docks here and made NWES City a true port, thinks Baker Bloch, staring out at same. Maybe Sammie Parr, Tenty, the rest could have been saved, maybe the Black Ice Market here would still be thriving and providing talky tubes for beloved pets, etc. He sighs, turns.
If Spunky’s also goes that may be it for this side of town. And if one part crumbles then the rest fall as well, all 4 jigsaw pieces. And that means the 5th, orange, Sunklands Institute in effect, will be meaningless too. Might as well move it back to Iris, then; Bella (squirrel) could have proved that.
Speaking of which, I must get to the Blue Feather meeting over there, called specifically because of new developments in Bella, Belle- seri… sare… whatever (think “Bell is serial”, baker b.!).
“So you see,” he says a bit later at the meeting, comprised of himself, Wheeler Wilson, Grassy Noll, Chef-Detective Keat Owens, and Gordie Down (formerly Curled Paper), just like before, “this wheel of avatars found by Bixyl — lemme see (Baker squints at the media feed), looks like Shuftan — occurred just after the completion of photo-novel 22, the one prior to the current one.”
“Hi!” repeats “Winesap” reading, light bulb headed Gordie Down. Baker and the others look at him, jointly wondering if he’s ever going to become a functional member of The Table they all sit around and participate in. Baker also makes a mental note here to get those apples for him as requested by Wheeler.
“Yes, hello once again, Gordie.” Baker decides to try to prod more out of him. “What do *you* think of this circle or wheel, Gordie? Do you think it represents the nodal photo-novels 1-4-7-10-13-16-19-22, like we talked about before? At the time, Wheelhouse (sim) was at the top of the developing continent and Wheeler (sim) at the bottom. This circle was created just over from Wheelhouse. We think it’s All Orange, Gordie (Wheeler and Grassy nod in agreement), but… what about you?”
No success on that front! They’ll try again another night.
Grassy produces his gifts: 1st, an Iris lantern representing the sim Sunklands Institute just left and Grassy’s home still. “I miss you over there!” he adds while shedding a tear or three from his wonky eyes with black, ping pong ball type pupils darting all over the place.
“Well, we’ll miss you Grassy. But you can come over here to visit any time you wish. You and Roger Pine Ridge both.”
“Roger,” Grassy uttered, as if he’d forgotten about his remaining Iris neighbor for a long time. He hadn’t invited him over for months. Must rectify that asap. They had to talk about Sunklands leaving. NWES in general. Should *they* leave? Nahhh, Grassy the green Mmmmmm thinks here. We’ll hold down the fort. Baker and Wheeler will most likely tire of NWES and return to the heart of it all, the closest place where Lindens and non-Lindens, their users, actually coordinated and cooperated with each other. Until it all fell apart with Jeogeot. *Here*. “Um, sure, Baker Bloch. We’ll come visit.” He included Roger because he knew Roger would be there too. Because, deep down, as has already been stated in that last post, they are one and the same. Grassy has no neighbor except himself. But he likes to pretend. Those kind of toy avatars are heavy into fantasy overall, hence the popularity of the 15 minute cinemas dotting the their base metropolis of Hermania over in Herman Park — one around every corner, it seems. Fellow toy avatars Mossmen don’t like the cinemas, and prefer to deal with the real world, plus the 15 minute films are ideal for the Mmmmmm’s much shorter attention span. Mossmen and Mmmmmm’s are opposites in that way. And so much more. Back to the meeting…
“And an Iris dance pad,” he says while producing his 2nd and last gift from his inventory while still proudly holding out his 1st. “Got it free on the marketplace. How serendipitous (with the M&M)!” It was a bigger word Grassy liked to throw around a lot in public now, replacing “accidental”. Grassy was starting to believe that all life was meaningful, at least for toys. He wasn’t sure about the humans.
“Thank you Grassy.”
“Indeed, thank you,” added Wheeler.
Curled Paper Gordie Down to finish. Meeting adjourned. Time to find them apples and maybe an orange to spare. Banana? Not in this case. Mae West would not be glad to see him.
“Thank ya’ll for coming, and I’m happy to see Wheeler here on time for a change, ha ha.”
“I ran all the way here from Picturetown. Didn’t want to miss this. Important!”
“Indeed it is,” responded Baker Bloch. “And also at the meeting we have Grassy Noll, who represents toys and non-human avatars in general. Hello Grassy!”
“And I am representative of all males of a human variety and Wheeler here the females of same.”
“Hi Grassy!” Wheeler called over. She was indeed happy to be here. And indeed relieved she didn’t have to be in charge of it all any more. Sunklands Institute was fully away from Iris and the Heterocera continent now and fully integrated into NWES City here as the “orange piece”.
“I have some gifts for the temple!”
“Well, uh, that’s great, Grassy,” replied meeting organizer Baker Bloch, knowing this wasn’t truly a temple but letting the error go between his legs, as they say locally. Good ol’ Grassy. Everyone liked Grassy! Except, of course, his Iris neighbor Roger Pine Ridge, who was, after all — deep down — the same. Oh, that reminds Baker Bloch of his announcement.
“Ahem, before you get to the gifts, Grassy. I’d like to also state that Curled Paper is officially a part of the table and not merely a prop, like, er, the Librarian over there. And, to go along with this, he has a new name: Gordie Down.”
Wheeler turns to light bulb headed, Winesap reading Gordie Down beside her, formerly Curled Paper. “I thought you were a woman,” she states to him. “I thought he was a woman,” she states to Baker Bloch.
“Not any more. Anyway, it was never really determined.”
“I though it was,” Wheeler held steadfast.
“Nah, not that I recall.”
“*I* recall it. I count the women in this blog. I keep tabs on all that. My responsibility, or one of them, is equality through numbers. The blog holds steady at about a 3:2 ration of men over women avatars. We’d like to see it raised. Curled Paper here was one of ours, and now he’s one of *yours*. We ask for compensation.”
Was Wheeler threatening to *boy*cott the meeting if she didn’t get a female replacement for Curled Paper, now Gordie Down? He decides to back *down*. “Alright, okay. Gordie can be a woman still. We’ll pick her out some apples later on.”
“Oranges. We like to call them oranges now.” Baker Bloch knew that Wheeler was joking now. Orange was reserved for something else.
(to be continued?)
“So what is ‘Billfork’ you might be asking?” then said Baker Bloch. “Well, on the audio side it’s primarily ‘Boom Dot Bust’ by Firesign Theatre. On the video side it’s the movie ‘Northfork’ by the Polish twins, Michael and Mark. As Tin S. Man alluded to, both feature towns that have to be moved in order to be saved. The town of Northfork is being flooded by a new lake. Billville is threatened by tornadoes, and also, strangely and syncily, a flood at the end, where the mayor has to turn into a fish and ‘swim, swim, swim’ to stay alive.”
Baker Bloch positioned 8 oranges around The Table instead of handing them to people in chairs like before. He was about to fill in the spaces between the oranges with lemons and limes as prescribed by the Billfork Core Diagram when chef-inspector Keat Owens stopped him. “Stand back and look what you have,” he rather commanded. “But –” Baker protested, “I haven’t finis–.” Owens interrupts him by reciting all the numbers that count: “1 – 4 – 7 – 10 – 13 – 16 – 19 – 22. And who is 22?” Baker counted clockwise as well from his south-southwest position, all the clockwork oranges, just to double check. He stared at Owens. He points at him with one of his now orange free hands.
“Correct. Here’s what we’re going to actually do next. Sit down beside me at ‘1’ and we’ll start.” With this, he had light bulb headed Curled Paper go in back and bring out the game that everyone was raving about lately over in The City.
“Do I still need my orange?”
“‘Cause I’m hungry.”
“Go ahead. You can have mine too.”
“Bravo. So what’s this game called again?”
They then built The River from certain pieces inside the box and named it Amazon.
(to be continued)
“Let’s take you somewhere and put you to work, Mr. Author — Mr. Detective. How about Perch, hmm? Wait… that’s currently closed for ceiling repairs. Blue Feather it is!”
“Good to see you back on the case, Chef-Detective Keat Owens,” spoke Baker Bloch over to the new but very familiar face. A bargain for 35 lindens in olden times.
The chef-detective shook his head, as if just waking up to the reality around him. Which was true. “I was on the ceiling,” he said, eyes blinking at Baker trying to focus in. “The building — was being repaired. An art installation. Then…”
“Murder?” Baker Bloch knew it could be the only reason Owens was back. Grand larceny or burglary or even manslaughter wouldn’t be enough.
“A girl. A friend of the 4 squared one.”
Spongebub? He hadn’t thought about that name in a long time. Not since the early days of Rubi. Speaking of which…
“4 men in one,” Keat Owens continued, as if Baker Bloch had said nothing, which he didn’t. “One of tin; one of glass — no, fur; one of steel; and then one of…” He tapered off, unable to think of the last element. That’s because it was imaginary. Baker Bloch explained this to him, along with the others.
“Superman?” he replied about the man of steel. “No, that doesn’t sound right.”
“Superdude?” Baker then altered. “Superguy?” he tried again. “Super*bub*?”
Then the reality of the overarching *umbrella* name kicked in. The chef-inspector was beginning to remember a whole world abducted from reality. “Someone has lost their bikini bottom.” His eyes were as big as quarters now.
Next stop: Bigfoot Bar or thereabouts.
“12:37, dear. Time to go.”
The Arkansas meeting, the restored Wheeler thinks just down from the Table Room with her one blue eye and one brown eye. It’s finally here. She wanted to cuss “Bellisaria” but held her tongue.
“Wheeler,” The Man About Time explained….
… then shifted to the next “wheel” sim of Our Second Lyfe, the second of three.
“Wheelhouse,” he then pronounced. “Complete opposite side of continent, northern edge instead of what’s now the southern edge, at least currently. We must act fast!”
“Or else… what?” Baker Bloch queried. “The wheel is, er, *broken*?” No one had said hello to Wheeler. She’d arrived late and missed the similarly paired displays of sims Humansville and Edgar (on opposite sides of a Bellisarian “island”, with Edgar denoting Uncle Joe as TMAT explained), Decker and Deckard (only 2 “deck” sims currently in Our Second Lyfe, directly n. and s. of each other and with Decker next to Wheeler), and Squished Starfish and Squishy Squid (2 of 4 “squish” sims, and again directly n. and s. of each other, with the latter positioned just beneath Humansville this time; more reinforcement).
Baker Bloch unglued his monochromatic eyes from the picture and turned to the newcomer of the group. “Wheeler, you getting all this? Wheel… Wheeler. That means you are involved. *Directly*.”
“Yes,” The Man About Time sitting opposite him quickly followed.
“We have enough evidence already to determine that,” Baker added.
Wheeler decided to insert a joke here. “Game, erm, *over* then?”
Our Second Lyfe winked out.
“‘Pumpkin Twisters’ anyone?” the great Tin S. Man bellowed, his heart aching from all the lame chit chat. Must get down to business, absences be shamed! His time to shine had more than come. Channeling Kinks’ head man Ray Davies in the round, he must finally put selfishness over selflessness.
On the other side of the tiny woods on the highest hill of the Hills of Bill: the Regaltown “hecklers”, adding more to the tableau.
The target again? Bullfrog, still aligned with Space Ghost. But Space Ghost was getting older, Grammy’s Vortex powers finally losing steam…
They were in their usual spots on the porch outside the trailer perched at the very tippy top, trying to understand the situation.
Space Ghost started the now old argument again. “I thought *you* were Aqua Dude. Like my former roommate…”
“… and his Super Guy duality, yeah. 2n1 in that case. No, for the fiftieth time Aqua Dude and I are separate. Two separate people. A *gay* couple. Get that through your head once and for all.”
“But — I can’t recall ever seeing the two of you *together*. And where’s my cane?”
“You don’t need it yet, Space Ghost,” responded Bullfrog, starting to feel sorry for the old man once more. Getting older by the day, the hour. The cane will come soon enough. “You’re just remembering wrong — getting thoughts jumbled up in your head. We’ve been *over* to your trailer together.”
“But Kevin A…” Space Ghost rattled on.
“I know. It’s confusing. *True* in his case.” Or *was* it, Bullfrog suddenly realized.
They sat in silence for a while, listening to diffused calls of the hecklers across the small grassy parcel from them. No actual words could be made out. The middle “heckler” remained silent as usual, but the stare coupled with the calls from the two surrounding ones made the message loud and clear. Here was Hermania, last girlfriend he’d ever have. Aqua Dude was two guys up from her. But it *wasn’t* Hermania; couldn’t be. Just a statue, an effigy. Made by the other two. No, this was terms for an intervention. Space Ghost had arranged it then let the matter drop. But the hecklers were more persistent. They latched on like ticks. They think Bullfrog and Space Ghost are now lovers. Were they?
“Saying Aqua Dude and me are the same person is as ridiculous as saying we’re two gay lovers, like those idiotic hecklers think.”
(to be continued)
“It all seems to be focusing on Heterocera, Baker Bloch. Me in the swamp lands — I would *prefer * to live here in Collagesity, but it is what it is. Then Wheeler’s own explorations.”
“She’s found a gym.”
“Gem of a gym,” replies Roger Pine Ridge, puffing on a Chesterfield tonight. The rainbow brings confusion but white light heals. White stick light. “That might keep her busy for a while.”
“Then Grassy… what’s the report on him?”
“Good and decent fellow, obviously. We’ll (re)visit Iris soon.”
“The Moth Temple Village. Good. Which you live on the very outskirts of anyway.”
“He’s still looking for the reds and yellows. Probably to shoot or kill them.”
“Wheeler can help in that way,” Baker then says. “And his cousin?”
“He hasn’t spoken of Opp since my move. He goes on and on about the TILE river or creek or whatever it is. Jonesborough Compound: he says that’s where it all started. Cave of the Alphabet. The eternal search for AlmaNoz.”
“Good topic,” replies Baker. “Karoz: Did he find his ‘N’ yet?”
But Roger Pine Ridge didn’t know neither. Better bring in another.
“Karoz… we’re just reviewing what’s going on in the novel so far. How’s Dennis? Is that where you still are? Lemme check.”
“Why don’t you put up a meaningful picture on your media feed here. For the blog.”
“Dennis.” Pause. “Where I’m not.”
“Well maybe we should go there to meet instead.”
Karoz Blogger looked around. “Where’s Wheeler tonight? This isn’t an official Table meeting without Wheeler.”
“She found a gym,” Baker Bloch explained again to a second core avatar tonight.
“Guess Tropp or Opp is with her, then.”
“Well… good.” Karoz looks down at his hands, then back up. “It failed of course. The assimilation. Baker Blinker has gone back to Chilbo. I suppose I’ll have to follow.”
“Well… for one shining moment…”
“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted the cyan being, half moss as we know now. The other half remains hidden in mist still. Baker then had an idea.
“How’s Misty doing?”
“He didn’t know who Misty was, Hucka Doobie. I tried.”
“You think that’s his *mother*?”
“Let’s review what we know, Hucka Doobie. We know that everything seems to be focusing on Heterocera, which is now equated with a big hand.”
“An *upside-down* hand,” Hucka Doobie clarified. “The Hand of Opp.”
“Right. There’s now a Heart Line to go along with the Head Line, which I didn’t know was a Head Line until I found the Heart.”
“Art’s on the Heart.”
“Right. Former neighbor. Like Veyot. On the edge. Just digging the Collagesity vibe.”
“It does have a good vibe,” articulated Hucka Doobie. “But now it only has the woods. Art will be the last neighbor you will have in Our Second Lyfe. Unless you count Ruby Heartbright.”
“I’m checking now, Hucka Doobie.” Pause of about 30 seconds while Baker Bloch remotely scans the borders of Collagesity. “Yes, I see she is the only landowner whose property borders Collagesity. But: no relation to the Rubi Woods to the west?”
“There has to be,” Hucka Doobie says without hesitation. “You know this person after all.”
“Met her once. She’s owned land around the woods before. Just like me. I can’t remember specifics.”
Hucka Doobie thinks that Baker Bloch should write down information like this but doesn’t say it aloud. “And fair Ruby herself? Haven’t seen her around since I rode back into town on a horse with no name.”
“We’re talking about my character, also named Ruby,” Baker clarifies more for the reader. “She seems to have taken the lead female role from everyone else except for Wheeler. But of course now we know Ruby *is* Wheeler. Because of all the splits she’s effected.”
“Ruby Fantasie most recently. You should follow what’s she’s up to in Rosehaven. Shaking things up, I bet.”
“Three ‘Rubys’, then. The neighbor, the woods, the… can we call her queen? Is Wheeler still queen? Heck we better bring her in. Thanks for stopping by, Hucka.”
“Back to the Red Umbrella for me. I found a way into Stonethwaite.”
“But a topic for another night.”
“So long, then.”
“Put up the Aotearoa picture on the interwebs, Baker Bloch. I can’t seem to work the darn thing again tonight.”
“I’ll make a quick post with the 2 pictures.” Pause of about 2 minutes while Baker sets up the post. He displays it…
“Top hit for an image search ‘N to Z’, Wheeler Wilson. Transparent images, that is.”
“Which you like to do now as I understand.”
“This is AlmaNoz related. Jeogeorock related. Whitehead Crossing. Spill what you know.”
“I’m not really the person (core avatar) for that. Spongeberg,” Wheeler declared. “Spongeberg’s the one. He lives there after all.”
“I forgot. In the teepee.” He removes his finger from his lip. “Well, we might have time to bring him in after this. Friday night after all. A little more time; a little less pressure to get up.”
“During the day, you have to figure out something else to do. I’m *enjoying* the day. But… this can’t keep up.” Wheeler looks at him directly. “Thank you, though, for allowing me time to find my gym. That was helpful. Tropp is thankful too. We are not evil.”
“I know that.”
“We are another aspect of Heterocera now, part of its continuing storylines. Three ‘Rubys’. Collagesity moves onward and upward within that triangle. Scarlet.”
“I’ve been waiting here for the longest time, Baker Bloch. But I’m glad you finally found me. In Middletown, US of A.”
“Gus is burning brightly indeed,” Baker deflected.
“I know all about fire,” P.I. Keat Owens dismissed.
“Oh… yeah.” Baker remembered that Owens was killed before his subsequent resurrection by being burned to death.”
“How is David Bowie anyway? Still hanging around Collagesity?”
“Er, that wasn’t really David…”
“Newton Jerome, wasn’t it? Jerome Newton? Yeah, the latter.”
“I was so close to the truth. Spongebub Triangleslacks almost spilled the whole ball of wax.”
“That was Square…”
“Askja? Yeah, Askja. Winfield, but with an extra ‘n’. And then Wheeler with the 8 ball she could hit clean across the Rubi Woods like a Tiger. It was all adding up to something. Then… the fire.”
“But you were resurrected,” Baker Bloch attempted to justify. “In VHC City. Actually in Mabel’s dreams before…”
“The VWX Society, yes,” Keat Owens then remembered. “X-ed out but still present.”
“Can I show you the annex now?” Baker knew the night was early but there was much to do still. Deadlines loomed. Reality beckoned. Beyond Our Second Lyfe.
Baker copied Keat Owens and several other objects from Axis’ High Castle before leaving. He found the portal dial at the door was non-copyable, however. He’d either have to take it with him or use it as a prop in the blog post now. He chose the latter path.
“Let’s set it on Rosehaven and see what happens,” he said to no one in particular. “I can always come back here and visit the other locations — Fruity Islands, The Waste, End of Time. But Rosehaven is the important one currently.”
Baker Bloch opens the door.