Tag Archives: Dr. Brown^*

here’s the deal

“These fries smell a little off, Patrick.”

“Whadda you expect for free food, Zoidboro,” spoke the human across him more wisely than usual. He turns in his seat and peers at the stage. “When’s the band start here?”

“Oh, they’ll kick us hobos out long before the music begins, Pat. These are top dollar seats here!”

“Oh.” He then looks to his left. “So the Doc and his lady friends are just the first to arrive, huh.”

“Of course. Frozen Meat Waffles. A very popular band in Eotia Village, perhaps the most popular. We bought that ‘Human Flesh Zone’ CD back when we first arrived. Remember? Now I wish I had that money for some food, clothes, anything.”

“We can sell it.”

Zoidboro waves off Patrick’s again wise suggestion. “Ahh, I actually listened to it a couple of times while you were out on your walks. Knew you wouldn’t be interested. But it’s used goods now.”

“Still…”

“Nah. 5 (dollars) at best for a half dozen times played CD.”

“That’s a fresh Big Mike.” He glances down at the stale hamburger in front of him. “And a sloshie and some proper fries. This is the place to do it.”

Zoidboro wonders along with us, the readers, how Patrick suddenly became so wise. Then he realized: pregnancy. Coming to term. He was basically thinking for two now. And the baby must be smarter than he. Interesting. *I’m* smarter than he. More proof? He must induce that dream of Nevermore again. Or was it Nevermind?

The first band member to arrive sasheys through the front door.

By golly it’s Colonel Flagstaff. In a new disguise. Well, the same disguise we last saw him using over on the Omega continent, but in a quite different setting. And peddling a quite different commodity this time.

He approaches the pair in the booth; speaks in his cool, grunge voice.

“Used CD? Sell? I’ll buy it from you for a dream.”

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rat tales

Dr. Brown knew a thing or two about sniffing out mysteries. He’d been doing so most of his life, especially a particular one involving the Cult of the Three Suns. Clues had been flying in from all directions recently. And now another had fallen in his lap: a pregnant Pat or Patrick Starr, connected with *North Yd* of all places (pronounced like “North Wide” just so you’ll know). Tilers, he thought from his secret underground lair, far far away (spatially and temporally) from the simpletons at Eotia Village. Squid people. Opposite sides of the circle, one dead and stuffed, the other living and breathing and… preaching. Vicious cycle — no, not vicious — *natural*, a comes around, goes around sort of idea. But now he had to find Tessa. She was the key.

Less than a half year ago; North Yd:

“The tile here indicates safety, however,” her grandpa reinforced. “Safe to split up, then. You examine the buildings that way,” — Grandpa Gold points behind Tessa — “and I’ll work my way around from this end — counterclockwise — until we meet up somewhere in the middle. Is that okay?”

—–

—–

I could spend the rest of my life staring at these walls and learning nothing else. I can’t believe all of the months from my past I did so. Nascera, he thought bitterly. Turns out nothing’s here. Nothing atall.

Even Reginald appears to be gone.

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Filed under *Second Life, Nascera^^, The Waste^^

clinic (Eotia Village)

“*Axis*, Zoidboro. That’s who *we’re* trying to defeat. We must make sure we don’t get this VD person to help us. Let’s see, V could stand for Val, Valerie, Valentine…”

“It’s *not* someone’s initials, Pat. Stop looking around. And don’t touch *anything* you don’t have to. Let’s just get you checked up and get outta here.”

After a pause, Pat whispers in Zoidboro’s ear. “I wonder if *he’s* hiding out from Axis too,” indicating the man sitting on the far seat from them.

“Stop — with the Axis talk,” Zoidboro reprimands out of the side of his tentacle covered mouth.

“Patrick?” a suddenly appearing nurse shrills, making them both jump a bit.

“Um, that’s me.” Pat raises his hand. Zoidboro grabs it and shoves it back down.

“Right this way sir.” She looks at Zoidboro. “Are you his… guardian?”

“Yeah, we can go with that,” Zoidboro grumbles, and gets up to follow.

—–

“Say you come from a, quote unquote, mutanty place, huh?”

“Hambone, sir. That’s right. Zoidboro here lives in North Yd…”

“… but part of the same micro-continent,” Zoidboro further explained.

“Hmmm…” Doctor Brown taps his pen crisply against the report several times. “Well, sorry to break this to you Patrick — *Pat* — but it looks like you’re pregnant. 8 months so, in fact.” He stares at the dumbfounded Patrick, then at Zoidboro. “I, um, don’t reckon you’re the father?”

“N-n-no. No!”

But was he?

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