Tag Archives: Fisher


“It was always going to be you and me, babe,” spoke robot Bendy from the couch. “And Alberta here too, I guess. What’s he hunting today?”

“Shellfish,” answers mergirl Prissy from her stand.

But Alberta’s greater passion was providing equipment for journeys into the center of the Earth. He waits patiently for his master Dr. Mulholland to finish her ride.

Er… his ride. This may take longer than expected.


“We’re outta here Jack.”

Jack manifests who he really is. “Goodbye Bendy my old friend. Safe journeys.”

“Hold on to your seat Fisher! HERE WE GO!”

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

back seat dyer

“Ahh, so you two are back already. How was Zoidberg again? How’s the folks?”

“Um, fine I guess,” Fisher the driver of the mini replied. “Who are you?”

“Tronesisia,” the gleaming silver robot lady responded. “New owner of the gas station. Old owner, or his son at least, told me all about you. From the future, eh? Don’t get a lot of those around here.”

“What happened to the old owner? Doggie, wasn’t it?”

“Doogie — the son. Tragic thing,” spoke Tronesisia solemnly. “Father passed away. Son decided to pull out the stake driven into his heart and move on. Took his marshmallow man with him. Now I’m all alone here, without help. Either of you need some dough? I have hours.”

“Not really,” replied Fisher. “No, we’re good,” mumbled Bendy at the same time.

“So fill her up?”

“Sure,” said Fisher. “And you probably already know, since you seem to know all about us, but it takes regular. Premium’s too rich for this old baby.”

“It is a pretty car.”

“Blue like your eyes.” Bendy then flirted, seeing an opening.

“You’re cute mister,” Tronesisia giggled, moving closer and pretend-pinching the fellow robot’s cheek. Bendy rubs it and grins.

“Gas, miss?” Fisher prompts, checking the sun.


20 minutes later, Tronesisia had sold them on the idea of staying overnight at Old Martha Ball’s available shack at the eastern edge of Sister. Furthest away from the town’s vampiric activity, she claimed. Safely tucked away in a small wood on the other side the tracks, she furthered.

Boy was she telling a whopper.

Tronesisia driving Bendy and (especially) Fisher over to their possible doom.

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Heterocera, VHC City

busting in

Using his universal pass-through, the littler vampire entered the house. “Buster Damm as I live and breathe, ha ha.” Pitch was use to his free comings and goings.

“Morning wine, Pitch?” Intervention Buster queried, looking at the bottle and full glass in front of him.

“Oh, this is just left over from last night,” Pitch explained. “You know how I am about cleaning up.”

“Who was the dame?” Jealous Buster asked with an edge, taking a seat opposite his bestest friend in the world. “Not that laconic bee woman again? I thought you two were Spitsville.”

“It’s Splitsville,” Pitch corrected. “But, no, it was Wheeler. You know, the lively one who bought the Key Store from Chuckles outside. Not a beaner. However she doesn’t own the shop any more. A wooden man bought it from her. Toys in VHC City, Buster. What’s next? Elves?”

“Hmm. What did you two guys talk about?” Had Jealous Buster skipped over a line? Didn’t matter. Pitch was a super duper pal and would play fair instead of foul if so.

Pitch hurled his morning spitball. “Sister.” He paused.

“Sister?” asked Stifled Buster back.

“Sister. Everything you see around you.” He waved his arm, indicating the house and its windows to the outer world. “There’s a place we should visit on the edge. Let’s call it that. The Edge. Won’t take long at all. A baseball field away at best.”

Nosey Buster had started scanning Pitch’s latest jottings, attempting to understand better. He reads aloud now. “The future fisher lives on the edge. Chuckles knows identity but won’t spill. Got that he owns a slavebot who is bent up inside. Coins. Squid and whale.” Shaking his head, Thursty Buster reaches over and grasps Pitch’s glass of viscous wine, downing it in one take. “Let’s hit the trail,” he said, wiping his tiny mouth with his little black cape. No stain remained.


“No one home, Buster,” Pitch says after calling. Curious Buster wouldn’t be denied. He deployed the universal pass-through again.

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Heterocera, VHC City


The man from the future known as Fisher pulls into the lone VHC Town gas station and beeps his horn for service. “Two and a 1/2 hours to get here from Farmington,” he complains to his riding companion, also from the future. “This car is a piece of junk, Bendy.”

“It’s not the car,” his robot friend returned. “It’s the world. Physics ain’t good here. Language neither. Equilateral gravity is better for locomotion. This is just loco motion. Get it? Loco… motion.”

“I get it.” Fisher feigned a smile.

“Yeah, my former masters got that right. Squaring the circle and all.”

“Well, you’re here with me now Bendy. I won you fair and square in that chess match, circles be damned.”

“You’re not called Fisher for nothing. But I still think the game was rigged. ‘Winesap’?”

“Cash or credit?” It was Doogie Martin the attendant appearing at their side, with head strangely transmogrified from his Collagesity North days.

“Cash, I suppose.”

“Fill her up?” Doogie returned. “Regular? Premium?”

“Yes to all except the premium, haha. Bendy, why don’t you run in and get those crackers you like. Get me a Mars Bar. Use the quarters I gave you earlier.”

“Vending machine’s broke,” says Doogie plainly while removing the gas cap and inserting the pump nozzle. “We have honey,” he offered.

“Honey, Bendy?” queried Fisher to Bendy without much enthusiasm.

“I’d rather eat the bees themselves.”

“That can possibly be arranged,” Doogie deadpanned back to Bendy. “Father’s trying to downsize. We’ll probably be out of here by the end of the month.”

“Oh. You don’t like, um, what’s this place called?”

“VHC *City*. Not town, like some say.”

“All right. What’s wrong with this *city*?”

Gas tank full, Doogie retracted the nozzle and put it back in its carriage without answering. “Comes to L$18.66. You did say you had money.” Doogie then raises an arm and snaps his fingers without turning. A squat marshmallow man squeezes through the door of the station and wallows up beside him. “Trouble here sire?” he speaks in a doughy voice.

Doogie keeps his eyes fixed on Fisher. “I don’t know, Marshall. Is there trouble Mr…?”

“Fisher. But not a first or last name. Just a name. Give them the money Bendy. Withdraw it out of your chest cavity. No trouble here, Mr… Mr…”

“Martin. Like the bird.” A sweating Bendy hands him a 20 dollar bill, which Doogie hands, in turn, to his muscle bound assistant. “Make yourself useful Marshall and go get change for these people while I keep an eye out here.”

“Sure thing boss.”

Doogie starts to look over the car better as Marshall reenters the station. “MK2, eh? Worth the jump up from the MK1 for the money. 1 second faster in the 0-60. Wider rear windshield; synchromesh gearbox. Exhaust system still leaves something to desire.”

Marshall reappears, hands Fisher a dollar and change. Doogie looks up into the sky. “Sun’s setting soon. You best be where you’re heading before dark. When the vampires are out, everyone else stays in.” He and Marshall walk off without saying goodbye, although he does throw up a hand in parting.

“Get the lead out, old chap,” requests Bendy to Fisher, who complies.

“If the vampires do get them, maybe they’ll sell us back that car,” Doogie says to Marshall as they speed away.

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Heterocera, VHC City