Tag Archives: Daisy Flathead^^++

December 2, 2025 · 3:31 pm

00480611

Perspective has changed at De House. Mann has lost wo-Mann in a way, in a manner. A hole has been formed in the middle. Witches. Which witch is which? What is good and what is baad?

“Interesting art you have there up above the bar now, Daisy. Another Corona Non while I have your attention, thanks.”

“The art?” She turns and looks up. “Yeah, it’s the alcoholic sea monster there in the middle, obviously. And the pool it’s in: the Nawt Vaya Sea. I found it in the user’s inventory. He indicated the association.”

“User?”

“Yeah, baker b. The user who controls us all, or at least while we’re on his land I suppose, this Nawt Vaya Free State on the shores of same.”

Biker Mann takes another drag off his cigarette, attempts to take all that in. He decides to focus on the art, the meaning. “Soo… is that a painting or what? Looks more like a photo.”

“It’s a collage, silly. You know that.” Daisy Flathead looked flatly at him, anticipating more. Hopefully the discussion will get seriouser from this point on. She decides she needs to add some information here and does so. “It’s… not a part of any series that I know of — not really.”

“The houses,” Biker kind of interrupts. “The same?” making her turn around to stare again. “90 degrees?” he furthers. “3 years?”

—–

“Oh, and the central figure, er, figures. The brown statues that grow shorter with time.”

“Do they?” It was Daisy who was trying to catch up now, mann overtaking wo-mann once more. In this certain situation in this certain time in space.

“Yeah. The acorn topped head.” He pointed to Daisy’s flat one. “It’s Pierrot again. Did you get that?”

She didn’t. But then she makes a decision after continuing to gaze. “I — don’t think they’re the same.”

“Aren’t they?” he pressed.

She checks again. “No,” she judges firmly.

“Okay, okay,” he gives in, seeing the pretty different designs on the, er, helmets of each. Head tops. “Then let’s shift to the hole in the middle.”

“Nawt Vaya? Sea?” she added.

“Kind of I guess. But (moreover) the hole made by the line figure collapsing inside his own clothes that obviously overlaps the brown statues. Where, um, does that hole go?”

She notices the hole, she notices what is highlighted. Thinking of Grant’s Hill again in Missouri and nearby Siloam, she says the word in her mind.

Just then, Philip Strevor pops his head in the door, asks about Nada. “Seen her?” he finishes his introductory paragraph.

“Nada? Yes, she came in here earlier with Lexi,” Daisy provided him. “Said they were headed up to Juho. Said something about a haircut.”

“Oh no,” says Philip. “Oh *no*. WITCHES?” And he ran away from the bar to the North as fast as he could, hoping to catch Nada before she made a big BIG mistake. TBC

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November 30, 2025 · 3:09 pm

00480608

“You know, I’m kind of tired of all this, Wendy of hot dog restaurant fame. I think I’m going home. I think I’m going over to Nada’s tonight instead of staying here. I think I’m… leaving.”

But Wendy didn’t care. Wendy was merely a stand in for another. Again.

—–

—–

“How was Little Hell today, Philip?” Frank asked while they were gathered together once more around the dining table at suppertime. Or thereabouts. Frank just assumed he wouldn’t go to Heaven. The 2, upper level doors to his high castle in the skies labelled such don’t naturally swing that way for him, being an Id figure and all. Disposable by the end (of the game) as stated.

“Oh. The usual,” he answers Frank. “Think I’m going down to the coast tonight for my r&r, though. See if Nada is still hanging around Lexi’s place.”

“Good idea.” Mouse was absent from the castle too, having gone back to the Amazon’s cement pond to confer with Pansy about more YouTube Poop possibilities. He knows now that the rest of New England is key for the movement of the main castle down through the states (of consciousness?). Now maybe Frank can enjoy a little peace and quiet about the place. Maybe time to call up Daisy, ask her how her day’s been at the bar. And remind her of that *third* date. Because tonight, he felt, was the night, Miss Mistletoe 2025 and her waiting lips being more a distant thought than ever. He knew about her real life Nigerian origins with the mother priestess and all, and her continuation of that ancestral calling in virtual Rodentia. He knew that the father had something directly to do with the out-of-this-world Non she wanted to develop, and why she came to Jeogeot’s only inland sea of Nawt Vaya in the first place. She’d heard about the alcoholic sea monster, what issues for the Hole in the Wall it caused. An opening had been revealed. Non-alcohol would be all they could serve, which slotted in perfectly for her plans of Our Second Lyfe dominance in that department. All has been revealed about the family that needs to be. Time for a different kind of revealing, of a more intimate type. Frank was ready. Now the question on his mind is: was Daisy ready for this kind of commitment?

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November 24, 2025 · 7:52 am

00480604 (00420515 revisited (1/2 way))

“Get out the shot, honey. I’m trying to take a picture of that ghoul in the cemetery over there!”

—–

“My people were tough on crime. And they didn’t tolerate breaking the law either. We grew up in the shadow of a mountain that began with Wee-Wee. My mother, when we moved over here to the states in ’79, said to be proud of the name and where we came from. But I was embarrassed, always called it the alternate name of Onigbaporo however tongue-twisty and unmemorable that was to the white people of our new land. But when I found Pee Pee Creek over on the west side of Rodentia and its crazy cemetery and its baffling preacher church I knew I had also found a home again in this world of Our Second Lyfe. My mother was priestess before in the “Wee-wee” place we came from and now I became quote unquote priestess in the Pee Pee place, as male and female polarities also switched positions there. It all made some kind of beautiful, circular loop.”

I studied the photo she held in her hand, looked at the flat headed statue of her mother in the center square the townspeople chose to erect before they left, a permanent tribute to her famous presence in their small Nigerian burg. Then I looked up from the photo at Daisy’s flat hair, the perpetually shaving razor held by a ghostly, hovering hand next to it. I started to understand the dynamics involved. But there was still the explanation of her non-colored father remaining. Non, hmm, I pondered. Could that be the reason for the obsession with creating the perfect, non-alcoholic brew? Turns out this was so… partially. TBC

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November 10, 2025 · 6:00 pm

00480505 (Franks combined (666 coverup))

Frank Lynn liked to read while on the toilet and had quite the collection of magazines laying about the castle’s only bathroom. But in putting down a copy of “Xxxmas Belles” picked for the season and taking a look around, he realizes he needs to clean up all this before Daisy comes up for a visit, which he guesses will be real soon. 1st date already done: ice cone parlor in Juho, then hanging down at the beach by the upper end of the Nawt Vaya Sea. Some smooching occurred, to his delight, but not too heavy, since this was a public place and all. And, yes, he found out that she had a black mama. Not a New Ager like his own, into all sorts of aroma therapy and aura cleansing and shite. She wasn’t raised a granola child like him, which he kind of rebelled against when he got into his teens. But still — the same color. And something was going on with her father but she avoided further questions about that after it was vaguely brought up — peculiar. Oh well, hopefully I’ll find out more soon enough, he thinks while pulling out his phone from his lowered pants. Maybe I should give her a call now that I have her number, set up that 2nd date while I’ve worked up the courage. Goodbye Miss Mistletoe 2025, he said in his mind, taking one last gander at the centerfold spread out on his lap with the waiting lips. Hello a different, more real and attainable kind of those. Dialing…. *now*.

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November 9, 2025 · 3:12 pm

00480503

I watch over him from the moved table as he continues to shake. I called Lexi and she said it was in all likelihood an epileptic fit caused by all those Youtube poop videos he watches with the flashing lights and all. She just suggested keeping an eye on him until it passes — and DON’T put anything in his mouth, she warns. I couldn’t call Daisy at the Hole in the Wall; didn’t know her number. Must rectify that soon. Anyway, Lexi said she was probably too far away to help, and that the fit should only last a couple of minutes at most. I didn’t know her current location, forgot to ask. So I just waited…

… and waited. I glanced at my watch not on my arm. 3 minutes now. Glance again. 3 1/2. Glance again 3 3/4. At this rate it will never end, Zeno’s Paradox. So I stopped glancing at my watch, started counting Mississippi’s. One Mississippi, two Mississippi. On and on I went. 100 Mississippi, and that added on to the 3 3/4 minutes I had to start this. 200 Mississippi — okay, calling Lexi again. “Help!” I said. “Get here!” But just then he sat up, stopped shaking, seizure ended, as if nothing had happened. But he was different, really different. “Where is Edward with the stone?” he monotoned, and threw away his cane into a corner. “I need to talk to Edward. I need to *see*… Edward.”

So I pulled him out of the back of the fireplace where he lived and then this happened.

There they were, all lined up in a row, all holding something. I didn’t know what to make of it! TBC

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November 7, 2025 · 1:30 pm

00480416 (blocked View)

And so I think this is as good a place as any to end section 04 of the current photo-novel: a giant picture of Tally Hall on one side of a mega-prim that also pushed physical object Clocky the robot out of his walking-in-place spot in the Hole in the Wall bar at its bottom and into the Nawt Vaya Sea below a couple of days back. With the error spotted (and mega-prim deleted), will he return to land and re-claim his position beside bartender Daisy Flathead, potentially taking her place and allowing her to manage more from afar and maybe do some of that travelling about Our Second Lyfe she’s always dreamed of? But I guess now there’s Frank to think of: Frank Lynn up in the castle in the sky above it all, a potential *boyfriend*. No, her heart will probably tell her brain than she needs to stay in the area, see what develops on that front. Meaning that 8 prim Clocky will most likely remain pushed away into the waters of the Nawt Vaya Sea, gone if not forgotten. Interesting parallels here to the photo-novel 46 story of fellow marching-in-place, physical object robot Tobor a couple of sims west along another shoreline come to think of it, the ocean surrounding the continent of Jeogeot in that case. Hmmm.

More than just mere parallels? A synchronicity, a link between 2 events through time and making them become *one* event. In 2 places? Could be.

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November 7, 2025 · 1:29 pm

00480415

“Snowlands, huh?” Frank Lynn repeats the location where Clucky says she’s moving to… 5 sections of a photo-novel into the future.

In the present (and just after the move):

“The temple and attached pool don’t seem to be much of an eyesore from here,” Frank Lynn talks only to himself now while staring out from the View at the view. “Must be something about Clocky instead. Maybe *he’s* still somewhere in the area and can be properly talked to.”

“Clocky?” Daisy Flathead answers him when he then walks down the hill to the revamped, reopened Hole in the Wall bar parallel to and in synch with the newly placed temple/pool complex and asks about the robot’s current location. “Kicked out by the ties.” Like tiles but different, Frank Lynn understands. Along the same lines.

“So he’s not going to be your bartender or anything?”

“Dunno, still. He *did* say he has experience, I’ll give him that.”


experience

“Tell me more about the tiles, I mean, ties,” Frank Lynn requests, taking another sip of Corona Non, his 3rd of the day. Can’t get enough of it! So tasty. Daisy picked the right Non for the house drink fer sure, he thinks.

“Ever heard of the band Tally Hall?”

“No,” he answers flatly. “Enlighten me.”

“Ever heard of the song ‘Banana Man’?”

“No again.”

“Their most famous. Probably. Unless it’s ‘Ruler of Everything’.”

“Sounds like you’re a fan, Daisy.” And here Frank Lynn starts thinking about her hair and its flatness. And it’s frizziness. Is she at least part African-American? Got him thinking along other lines too.

“Kind of,” she answers about the fan part. “But they wear ties — red, yellow, blue, green and also a gray to unite them all through drums. You have to have drums to complete a proper rock band. 4 isn’t enough in this case.”

“Hey, doesn’t Barry De Boy up on the hillside wear red ties?”

“Not when he is awake,” Daisy answers, and then Frank thinks she winks at him. Her hands move closer to his on the counter.

“Oh,” Frank says, and looks down. The 2 sets of hands get closer closer… overlap (!). (TBC)

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November 4, 2025 · 3:05 pm

00480413

Things were a bit different on Nawt Vaya Free State land when Biker Mann returned to the revamped, reopened Hole in the Wall several days later in the month. And he hadn’t even met the red tie man within.

He looks out at the water, notices more different. A big, orange tile roofed building sticking out of the Nawt Vaya Sea. Related to the ties? he thinks. Turns out it’s related to the also new ties, yes. Red tie man hopefully will explain.

And what about the poor robot in front of him (!). Kicked out of the bar, but why? Inside now.

—–

“Biker, meet Barry. Barry, Biker. I think you two have a lot in common. Tell him, Barry.”

“We’re dreaming.”

Biker wakes up. He wouldn’t actually revisit the Hole in the Wall until day after today’s tomorrow. No ties will remain, but Barry is still inside. Daisy Flathead restates her introduction from the dream.

“Biker, meet Barry.” Biker gasps, only recalling the dream at that point.

“Am I dreaming again?” spoke Biker.

“Wait a minute, Biker Mann. I haven’t finished my lines. I think you two have a lot in common,” she continued as before. “Tell him, Barry.”

“Not this time,” he answers Biker’s question, indicating both are awake now. He’d checked before he left the cottage to the left, up on the hill. No tie, unlike before.


before

Barry’s live-in girlfriend Wendy suddenly appears at the door, out of breath from running over. “I got here as fast as I could. Wake up Barry!”

But it was she who was asleep this time. No clothes.

“I have a spare dress in back, sweetie,” said sympathizing Daisy, who’d had her share of naked-in-public dreams. “Just for this kind of occasion.” TBC

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October 29, 2025 · 8:06 pm

00480409

Philip hadn’t been playing pinball long when he remembered to tell Frank the big news. “Lexi said, get this, the bar’s opening back up next to her house this morning,” he said after finishing the first game, normally a low point of the day since he gets to the higher scores later. “The Hole in the Wall is back in business, baby,” he summarized, and then is about to insert the next quarter into the machine when piano and Spongeberg inventions weary Frank stops him. “Halt!” I believe he said, then: “Go!” And so they went.

—–

“Be with you in just a moment, gents,” she said after glancing at them over her shoulder. “We’re not actually open back up until 2, but that’s fine. Gotta take a break and clean sometime. Working alone right now, until I can get my mechanical man over there fixed up so he can pitch in. That’s a joke, btw.” But then Daisy Flathead thought: Is it?

“We’re fine, ma’am,” said Frank. “Just glad to see the bar up and running again. Place was pretty much wrecked when Lexi had to quickly raise it 100 feet in the air because of the alcoholic sea monster and all. I know she was trying to be careful but… that mouth, so big, so close! But…, erm…”

Daisy guessed what Frank was going to ask; she’s good about that with people. “How can I serve booze when that monster is still out there roaming the Nawt Vaya waters, biding his or her time? I can’t. Never mind all those taps. I only got one. Corona Non… until I can brew my own Non. Mind you, Corona Non’s pretty good. But I’m conjuring up something special. *Special* special. Our Second Lyfe residents won’t know what hit them because it won’t. They’ll — collectively — wait and wait for the kicker, thinking how tasty the drink is. Then they’ll go home perfectly sober but also, strangely, perfectly satisfied. The wives of the normally drunk-ish, boor-ish husbands will thank me and shower me with money so that I can advertise the brew even more, ha. The husbands of the wives might complain a bit about the lack of buzz but will keep thinking of the taste and come back anyway. Taste, my friends. It’s all about the hops. And I have a secret weapon. Flathead.” She points to her own flat hair topped noggin with this. “All in here. And… there. I’m done dusting. So, Non beers all around? That’ll be 5 dollars each.” (TBC)

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October 29, 2025 · 7:19 am

00480407

I stumbled out of the Athens restaurant, trying to get away from the doubling and the confusion as fast as possible. The tape wouldn’t work, the tape wouldn’t *work*! And I didn’t know where I was; it was all a maze of streets and jumble of people, people everywhere going in all directions at once. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I felt I was going to scream. I did. I wake up.

—–

He’d heard about a bar up the coast under new management and decided to check it out. “Pirates,” he muttered while pulling in and seeing the treasure map graffiti on the outer wall. But some of them are okay, he remembered. Like Randolph, which started him wondering where in the heck *is* Randolph the Bastard Pirate? He hadn’t seen him in years, it seemed. Anyway, he thought, better head in. Gotta get past that outside pirate first, he he. I’ll bump him real good to make sure he knows who’s the boss. “‘Scuse me fellow.”

Hmm, just passed right through the guy. One of those lifeless flatties, he thought.

And then, inside the bar, more flat, a haircut this time, apparently ongoing judging by the proximate hand with buzzing razor.

“Corona Ultra then, lady,” he ordered after picking his seat and getting the name of the house brand. He needed more alcohol to deal with the strangeness here, but then was greeted with: “We only got Non. No actual booze here, not after the attack by the alcoholic sea monster. Don’t want a return,” she said flatly, as was her overall style and the overall style of the bar as a whole, starting with the flat treasure map, the flat pirate flattie leaning against the front door outside.

“Oh. Okay. A Non, then, I guess. Do I still have to–?”

“Yes,” she said, anticipating the end of his question about paying for the thing he doesn’t desire. She’d heard it before. Several strangers coming here and asking the same. Like Peet Pelican over in Juho. Like Sachie B. from Vortexville, Raymond from Redwoods, Stillman from Stiletto Heels Hills. Drinkers like to drink what they call the real stuff, the real thing. But she’s aiming to change all that with a Non brew that will knock them off their heels, especially Stillman with his stiletto shoes I suppose.

While he was waiting for his drink he didn’t really want to pay anything for, the man simply known as Biker further inspects the place. “What’s with the robot?” he queried.

“Oh, came with the place,” she said while pouring. “I guess that it dropped down from the hillside above sometime during the renovation and just got lodged inside. So I set it upright, let it walk in place again. He’s harmless. I think. Anyway, I haven’t decided if I want to keep him or not. There’s another one, another robot — smaller — still up on the hill about to tumble over the side too. Maybe he’ll join him soon. Dunno, in summary. I call him Clocky but he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t have any soul that I can tell. Maybe he just needs reactivation.”

“I see.” (TBC)

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