Tag Archives: Dickie Doom^*+

March 10, 2022 · 10:23 am

golden opportunity

Sister Debbie left him in Stoogle to contemplate why a waterfall would be situated in the middle of a wetland. She had to get back to Tyrrell — two “r”‘s you’ll notice, bringing it closer to home North Carolina.

Jerry was there. And he knew how to put out the fire.

“Frying Pan Village,” he spoke over from his position of power on the couch of the centerpiece bar. Dome of purple hair he had, cluing us in to who this really was. “It’s the only way to further this mystery.”

“Frying Pan Island,” she voiced, testing out the sound of the overarching location. Could he be The One? How to break it to Dickie? We were, after all, husband and wife. Before we decided to instead be brother and sister. He’ll take it hard, she decided. He’ll have to go too, she realized.

“There’s… someone else in my life right now,” she ventured.

“Bring him along,” he shot back, all up for a more than 2 relationship. “Or her.”

“Him,” she quickly followed. Would this work?

—–

Besides, he had a friend too. A best friend. A foursome it is.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0110, Frog Isles, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Yd Island^

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March 10, 2022 · 9:11 am

symbol man

Lower Austra over there for sure, thinks Dickie Doom, looking west through a telescope from his position on Stoogle, at a cafe and boat repair establishment. Nice landscaping too.

—–

“So who’s your friend?” asked Debbie Doom to — we better determine a relationship — let’s say brother and sister instead of husband and wife. So: brother Dickie.

“Picked him up on the marketplace,” answered higher Dickie to lower sister Debbie on the tail of the sea monster. “Freebie,” he further explained. “Brand new as well; seemed to fit (the looming mystery).”

“Um hm,” she said. “Er, where’s his clothes?”

“Dunno,” answered Dickie, daring to look over at the lowest-of-all spectacle. Frog head, frog feet and hands, human body. He tried reloading (the outfit) but same result.

“And the rain.”

“Yes,” answers Dickie. “Somehow, one way or another, the Frog must turn into Prince.”

“P,” she said. “Power. He’s trying to tell us something.”

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March 10, 2022 · 8:43 am

00320108

It looks like a major question in the division of Lower Austra from the rest of Nautilus is the status of the Frog Islands, we’ll call them for now, beginning, west to east, with Brork, *Froog*, and Stoogle. Right now, Dickie Doom is in Stoogle, looking at a map that seems to indicate, with its drawn yellow line, the Frog Islands are part of larger Yd Island where we’ve just been through (wife? sister?) Debbie Doom. We’ll get back to her story in just a moment.

But then the picture changes and we are confused again. The Frog Islands seem to move through space and time.

Maybe it’s a situation of turning a frog into a prince again like in those other fairy tales.

Dickie Doom stands up. And spots another triangle.

Not bad.

(to be continued)

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March 8, 2022 · 11:07 am

levels

“1st off, the umbrella girl in Lorsters Worst *gives* umbrellas, doesn’t just hold one. That’s a big difference in my eyes.”

“That means,” speculates Dickie Doom as well, “Blue Rose Thorn is still relevant, despite being stuck.”

“What I’m thinking,” Debbie agreed. “I’m going back. You stay here in case I need to be rescued.”

Dickie nodded. This was the end of their discussion until something else developed, something totally new. Because the umbrella girl wasn’t giving out umbrellas until Debbie showed up.

—–

There are *2* Dooms, thinks Pot-D or Pan-Z spy Lester Best from his position just around the corner. And the second is recording(!).

Debbie walks inside. Now to figure out how to get this elevator from 01 to 02, she pondered, and started touching stuff.

(to be continued)

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March 8, 2022 · 9:41 am

return to center

The candy sentry eventually, inevitably said no no no to the Mosses’ candy shopp and sent it away, along with all their other stuff gathered on the Crypto parcel. “Illegal,” it said. “Unlawful.” But the Mosses get away unscathed except for loss of property, stuff of dreams over.

Only a bit in the formerly unseen basement remains, packed up in one corner.

Then it’s on to Perch-Mistletoe next door to meet Dickie for Debbie, the agent sent in by Pot-D (or maybe Pan-Z) to replace absorbed Blue Rose Thorn still over in Lorsters Worst. Looks like rain.

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November 16, 2020 · 6:56 am

Deep South

Marilyn was incredulous. “Cook tonight?? Andy, you can barely make *soup*, hmph.”

“I do all right.”

—–

Nearby:

We missed out on our chance at Elberta, brother of mine. She’s gone.”

“Toothpick’s sister? She’s right up there.”

“I know. But that’s her *picture*.”

“Oh.” Boos scratches his unbagged head.

Bogota took another look at the framed photos on the wall through the holes in his skull; had a realization. “Wait… that’s *Amber*. Remember Amber?”

“The wrestler?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember Neck City?”

“It’s coming back (!)” The memories were focusing…

—–

Nearby again:

“Sure glad to have Amber back,” Dickie Doom states while looking over at his golden hued daughter preparing the food for tonight, but wife Debbie knew that wasn’t her real name. Not any longer.

“Dick. We need to talk.”

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April 9, 2019 · 7:08 am

exit

“He’s gone. Our leader is gone. What do we do now?” Archibald Duke had just spoken 10 times as many words as he’d ever said before.

“I’m going to explore more of the BEH dimensions,” offered Dollie quickly in her high, thin voice.

“I’m going to go hop around that nice creek behind the lodge,” added Piper in his deep, masculine tone.

“Hmm,” said Archibald, looking at both of them. “Suppose I *could* go to this Black Lake I’ve heard so much about now. Fish for demons.”

—–

Jennifer M. Friend woke up, went to the main room, looked around. “Hmph. Where’d everybody go?”

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April 7, 2019 · 8:34 am

Blackspots


Pondering murders.

—–

They talked far into the night. No mention of Bauer again, as stated. About 10 Roger Pine Ridge showed up as well. He kept glancing over at his old flame Cyberpaperdoll (who arrived about 7:30) but saying nothing.

11:15. His last Chesterfield was now half smoked. Perhaps time to pull out one of his special cigarettes; start seeing things in the middle of the night again. Sea monsters this time, perhaps. The white stick light tells truths to be beholding to. Behold… beholding. Beh.

“Beh,” he uttered over to Cyberpaperdoll. “Beeeeeehhhhh.”

—–

“I’ll defend you Dollie.”

“What are we looking at?” she queried Randy Big Cat in her meek voice. So feminine and thin.

“Pirates of course! *Other* pirates.”

“Of course.” But it didn’t look like any pirate she’d beheld.

—–

She kept tripping the light fantastic. White stick light. Giant bunnies were good and cool. She wanted more. But Ruby’s Democratic Empire sim remained empty. It was only a stage, a set, good to go for Collagesity novel 10 but then discarded and emptied just after. *Had* to be a set. And now connected with beh. All sims starting with beh, especially their center (128/128). Try it for yourself. You’ll see.


Dollie in the dollhouse doghouse again, snooping around.

—–

She pretended this improptu gathering of cubes also in central Behemoth was a meeting of the selves again. “You,” she barked as much as possible with her unbarky voice. “Over there. The black, silent one. Time to *speak*.”

——

Eventually she fell asleep on its southern side after taking yet another form. Smoking.

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February 27, 2019 · 6:47 am

Wednesday, February 27, 2019


soaking it all in…

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February 4, 2019 · 8:36 am

doomed

He couldn’t quite resolve the ruined and useless parasol from this distance — thought it another of the circling ravens at a glance. But this particular black shape remained motionless unlike the others. And it was more triangularly. He better go investigate.

This is when Dickie Doom first sat on the Throne of Jethro. Or was it the Bauer Throne. Anyway, that’s when he initially surveyed the ruined Fries with Cheese church where former New Island neighbors Mrs. Fogg and Ms. Frame hid out in the dark, dark days after the apocalyptic lime kiln explosion. Deafening it was to their ears, blinding to their eyes. Yet after several excruciating hours the sights began to return for each, the sounds. Silence all around for the longest time. Visuals, but of wrecks. Twisted metal. Tires. Crates and doors and chairs, paint removed by the disaster. Highways broken and trust up in the air instead of grounded and whole. The insects remained, hidden in the filthy soil. Then the birds came back. The blessed birds. The insects scuttled out. The birds swooped in, first one, then a few, then a flock (or murder). Gobble gobble. The cycle of life and death was restored in this small way. This opened the doors for others: rats, of course; a few wild cats who ate the rats, and then the larger animals. Mastodons. No, not mastodons. But some other large animals. Hippos might have numbered among them. Tigers. Yes: tigers. And dogs the size of rats the size of cats.

And the ruined parasol mirroring the ruined church turned out not to be black but purple, the color of violets. Dickie Doom missed flowers greatly.

He better get back to the shelter.

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