And Ringo. And John. Especially John, though. Can’t be dug out. Will always remain in the Cavern where I first learned of them. SODA.
Tag Archives: George^*++
I buried Paul.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0310, Jeogeot, Sunklands^
She received clarification in another witch house near the Head Line in Hooktip, her old stopping grounds. PCH Forest — many a day she could be found roaming these woods for magical trinkets, practicing magical spells. This is where, for example, she came up with a mate named George, a future husband she declared to him after he physically manifested before her, not quite mature but getting there. A boy 13 to 10 to 13 to 10 over and over (as it turned out), always gaining 6 inches to reach the upper extreme, always with horns or antlers by that time. On sunnier days he could even glimpse 18.
from the files: bigger George. With horns or antlers.
Anyway, the new, proper board’s planchette further indicated or emphasized the importance of the 5 point star to add to the already highlighted ending/beginning Z, obvious reference to her cat Mysti, long long left behind but still the best of friends, we assume. She even named herself that after the cat in one of her incarnations (switching the i and the y), an homage to the past in more ways than one.
Yes, she recalls that. Quite close to here, in a retro town defunct for several years now. Took up all or almost all of Myron, a couple of sims directly west of Hooktip. Arthur was also there in a way. Except she called him Septimius. Septimius Felton, a name which has resurface recently. Darn full moon, darn wandering feet on a full moon. She ended up beside him, which now was a her. But it was still Arthur in a way, in a manner. Too hard to explain to him, though. Must keep that a big secret still — the trip to Red Marsh and Maroonville, sometimes called Redtown because of the overarching sim. Santa was born there, some say — legend goes. Santman.
She also found a book with a golden butterfly on the front, mirroring the name of the property: Golden Hours. Inside she read about herself.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0513, Heterocera, Myron^, VHC City^
“Over here, Arthur. Behind the bushes!”
“Black against white. As it should be.”
“You’re not ashamed of us still?”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, well. The bushes.”
She sighs. “It’s just so we could get more romantic. Towel has a better view of the rocks over there I like so much.”
“Ropes, yeah.” Arthur stared out, thinking of George/Musician. “Have you heard from him lately?”
“You know. Him.”
“Strange dreams, yeah.” Continuing, he thinks to himself.
“Moon is bright tonight. Better get you back to the hotel.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0314, Corsica, Northwest^
He approached cautiously from below.
He’d been saving up presents for some time, preparing for the worst. Flood! they warned. Global warming gone rogue! they cried. Thus the ark.
Or so the story goes.
After a return trip to the box, they ate Christmas dinner up top. “Shelley, you seem depressed,” he spoke. Probably just leftover effects once more, he rationalized.
“Oh. Just thinking about The Moon again. Where are we on it?”
George/Musician didn’t bother to correct this time. “Tranquility, love,” he said instead. “Remember? We landed there, all of us Americans through two specific Americans. All in the Family.”
Shelley Struthers buried her suddenly aching head in her folded arms, trying to forget everything. The nearby lemons and drink bottle were reminding her of something she didn’t want to see.
“Would you like to open a present?” offered George/Musician. Maybe that would help her mood.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0306, Corsica, New Island^, Northwest^, Omega^^
He thought about Back as he lay on his back and she turned her back to him.
“Where are we on The Moon again?” she asked dreamily while studying, lingering effects of the box.
George/Musician sighs. “We’re not *on* The Moon, Shelley. We’re in… Mortons Gap. I think. At least the Ant Castle, old style, is playing on a continual loop on our TV over there.” Ropes, George/Musician thought. Aah the good old days when marriage meant something and everyone knew their place. He sat up.
Back ruined all that, pheh. Better get back to it while I have time. 7:04AM. Soon it will be 5.
Yeah, there it is. Too late. Next! (as Wheeler might say)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0305, Corsica, New Island^, Northwest^, Omega^^
cake = lie
And so we end with Stiggy the Bluebird arriving early for her supposed birthday party, asking where the spectacular cake was Elanea promised to show her. Elanea said she’s it, then fired a tranquilizer dart right in her forehead between the eyes, then dragged her back into the kitchen to be prepared. One too many jokes about her amphibian nature for Elanea to stand. And she’d spewed the same racist type insults to people in powerful positions like reptilian Stu in Marketing, human Pamela in Waste Management, and, most importantly and most damning, to the Big Boy himself, calling him a [delete name]. To the Abyss she must go, he declared, which was his own personal word for the Void, having been raised a devout Tilist all those years ago, memories and rituals sticking like glue. The others decided the degree.
After the party, they prepared one cross that had the wrong year of death — had to be redone (too much partying, perhaps). A second, sturdier and more upright one was made by Harold the Carpenter, a gnome sent down by Head Office to do the task right, along with another named Jack who’d dig and fill in the grave. No coffin needed, though: no part of her remained to be buried by the time Elanea finished with the knives and saws and the gnomes arrived, not even her heart, deemed inedible from her species but which was still put into the cake just for spite and to rub it in all the way.
The bird was George.
Shelley’s still beating heart only pointed one direction after that. Biff Carter provided an interesting alternative but had aged 20 years overnight, thus eliminating him from the picture. Big Boy again, of course — [delete name] again the hurled insult. Only Arthur remained. And through him Liz. The marriage will take place at the beginning of the next section, 7 in a series of 6.
She’d always been a Trekkie/Star Trek fan, as far back as she can remember. She primarily identified with Ouhuru from the first series, was obsessed with her, wanted to know what she did when she was away from the bridge, out of sight of the cameras, etc. So she found out the only way she could: fiction, fan-style of course. Later she started switching the characters around. Sooloo became the captain, and even merged with Captain Crunch of breakfast cereal fame to become Cpt. Munch, with the bravado or macho posturing of the original cpt., Kirklin let’s call him, becoming even more intense and more insane. He treated his crew more like children, child laborers, and he their master at the top of it all, straddling the hill with his two powerful limbs for legs. Pickard, the captain after Kirklin in the next series, became a “mere” redshirt, fit to be exterminated in any beam down party. Sooloo, also from the original series and who had replaced Kirklin in *form* in her imagination, developed into a love interest for Ouhuru, a way for her to gain favors from him in part. This led to the inevitable end when she got over her head in 1000 City, which the U.S.S. Ararat (taking over from the retired U.S.S. Cuthand — earlier novels I’m talking about here) was assigned to investigate because of a troubling black hole style anomaly (blurred with black horse and black ho concepts in the text) originating from that small but intense cyberpunk city in the sim of Gemini. The beam down party, sans Pickard who had been mowed down by an abominable snowman or snow tiger riding a snowmobile at its top level, its ceiling if you will, eventually discovered the time/space disturbance behind a bar tucked in the southwest corner of town. And here we are. Stuck still, black hole and black horse and black ho aspects inseparable now.
“Be careful out there Carb. And watch out for spiders!”
“Aww Maw!” he called back walking through the door under the purple marquee, beside the blank purple circle that stood in for a wall sign, behind the square, similarly blank purple standing or pavement sign below them. Bar Purple is another obvious name for the joint, but that was just more relics from the past. The new owner (The Void, we assume) had changed the name to the more innocent seeming and generic 1000 Bar, after the city. Ouhuru, due to the powers of the anomaly that might be behind the bar, but might be *where she’s standing*, forgot her Star
Trek Team origin, became absorbed into it, much like actual black holes of our universe absorb light and matter; time itself.
She checked her watch and tried to think positive thought bubbles. The letter from the publisher is due today, any minute now. But she already felt she knew the answer, could feel it in her bones. Rejection.
“Another one, Ted?”
“Nah, thanks Liz. I gotta get back to the ship.” He vanished along with her hopes. In reality, the mailman arrived.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0517, Gemini, Hana Lei^^
The redshirts are coming the redshirts are coming.
Lt. Ohura here doesn’t count. Wrong sex, although certainly the right one personally to win an all important favor from the Cpt. Car was the eventual outcome, short for Carbon, Ohura’s favorite element next to Potassium. And she didn’t want her son going around being referred to as Pot or Potty, or have his full name contain the word “ass” in it. Carbon it was. Munch didn’t need to know anything about the infant. She hid inside the black hole behind the bar, and him with her. Always from that point on. Carbon Glow Mahoney, a fake last name, as close to baloney as you can get without giving everything away, she felt: her fake life in 1000 Cy. after the U.S.S. Ararat had left the scene, taking the Cpt., Speck, all the remaining red shirts with it, along with the “inferior” females. Ohura, I mean, Liz would eventually loosen their psychological shackles as well, giving them freedoms in the mind as well as body. But first she had to deal with the boy in the harsh glare of city life. Life itself.
“Come on, Carb (as he preferred instead of Car when he reached a certain age), “let’s get you to the dentist for that tooth filling party.” She lied and told him he was named after her favorite part of the car — carburetor — which she also liked because it referenced the name “car” itself. She wanted to hide the space part of herself as decorated officer Winnifried Ohura as much as possible; wanted to be absorbed inside the role of bartender/lady of the night Elizabeth Mahoney, a common girl from the proto-ghetto (progo). Carr, hmm. I’m starting to know who this actually is, an old old friend of the blog, almost older than time itself. Through him they are able to look into the past and see revolution, robot style. Or 1/2 robot, 1/2 biological, yes. Like Car himself as it turns out. Only 1/2 carbon, see. The other 1/2: car or carburetor. Machine. Yes, I think I’ve about got it. Earth and Space.
She came up with the 1/2 thing analyzing a minion just before she beamed down to her new life, appropriately enough, her last work as a Star Team bioscientist. Fern would be proud, I assume.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0514, Gemini, Hana Lei^^
It was her father, Newt, and her mother, Wheeler, with herself in the middle. All dead, all ended, the Ur family complete.
It was her brother, it was her sister.
It was herself.
Next was a church with red doors, a cross over them and at the top of course. This was The Cross itself. Who should lay beside Shelley in her grave to be with her forever and ever and ever. Was it George? Arthur? Even that new stalker prevert Biff Carter, perhaps named after a detergent but perhaps not? This was the place they get married. This is the place they get buried.
Next: It was a long way up; another ladder.
Many spirits requested her presence.
The Void has spoken.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0417, Hana Lei^^, Sand Springs
“Thanks for coming to rescue me, *Lemont*.”
“You’re very welcome dearest. But you can *really* thank your Venus Cage necklace, or at least the photo of it.”
“Right. Didn’t remember anything about the Umbrella Club until I pulled it out of my purse and took a look. Angles aren’t right in the black and white photograph. Can’t figure out where it is taken on the body.”
“It’s not a body.”
“Yeah, I know that now. But just the studying, the trying to figure it out, changed me. I can never go back now. I remain under the Umbrella. Figuratively, of course, because here we’re out in the sun still. Where is our umbrella anyway?”
“Stashed away for a rainy day,” he said.
She turned on her side. “And… I don’t think I desire to wear purple any more. That must go along with (the change). Or when I do it’s *my* choice. She shaked her index finger to reinforce her point. Shelley she was through and through, she thought.
But Lemont knew the situation could change. Good now for them. But George/The Musician was still out there somewhere.
And Roberts remained just around the corner.