Tag Archives: George^*

back room

“You shouldn’t be smoking that in here Heidi. We’re just kids here, you know. What if we get *caught*?”

“Speak for yourself, George,” she replied about the kid part.

The boy looks around. “So — we’ve turned down the lights. You’ve smoked half your joint; I’ve drank half my coke. Where is she?”

“Just give her some time.” Heidi Hunt Ives takes another toke. Again: she’s not really a kid.

“12:36 now,” he says after checking his Mick Mouse watch. “Maybe we should go. I need to get back to the park.”

“Well there you go,” she offered about the time. “Give it another minute.”

—–

12:37:

“Oh my God,” she whispers over. “There she is.”

“Where? Where?”

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Filed under *Second Life, Gaston^^

Gastonites

“Well here we are lady,” spoke Uncle Zach, currently (and miraculously!) posing as a taxi driver. “The Joint Joint. It’s haunted you know. That back room. Back in the back. There’s people back there that shouldn’t be there.”

“I don’t care,” Heidi replied innocently with naive voice.

“Two eggs, they say,” he started again, hands extended and wavering to accent the spookiness. “Floating in mid air without any wires.”

“I’m not scared of eggs.” So child-like. Very surprising (again).

“You haven’t seen *these* eggs. Different colors they are. One glowing red, the other: green. Two colors that don’t go together well —  at all.  And: are you going to get out or not?” His haunted story had run its course. For now.

“Goodbye Mr. Taxi Man. ”

A boy appeared in the chair beside the door. Heidi changed as well.

“Shall we enter, Georgie Porgie?”

“After you, um, Heidi Widie.”

He always had trouble keeping up.

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Filed under *Second Life, Gaston^^

flagged 02

A boy of 13 rotated back to 10 and around and around. Trapped, although on sunnier days he can glimpse 18.

—–

To come back here to live? Permanently? Never to leave again? That could be an answer.

—–

“I’m not 10, I’m 13. Legal age to work where I come from.”

Baker Bloch looks down at the filled in paperwork. “I see: Bennington. Rough place. Describe your childhood.”

George knew he didn’t have a childhood. Only 10 to 13 to 10 and back and back and back. Except for the glimpses. “Oh, you know, the usual.”

“Gangs?” queries the male Baker.

“Couple,” spoke George honestly. “Bands we call them.”

Baker sensed the interview was over. “We have one more applicant. We’ll be making a decision very soon. Thanks for your time in coming in.” Baker was thinking: we were really looking for a different kind of shapeshifter but this could be handy too. He rechecked George’s phone number before releasing him back into the world.

—–

“Describe your shapeshifting abilities.” Baker knew this was a crucial point.

“Wellll… I have a dog one, if that’s what you’re interested in. Could be handy for, I don’t know, entering collages.”

—–

I think we have our man,” Baker spoke to Hucka Doobie later. “And he’s a girl.”

—–

“And this is your bedroom…”

“Schweet.”

“I can’t fit in there because I’m too tall. Enjoy!”

—–

“Now to find where Cloe went in this stupid game, hmph.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Heterocera^^, Lower Austra, Nautilus^^

changes

“Is this life ever gonna get old to us, Philip? This Gastion — notice the name change?”

“Doubtful, Marion.

Doubtful.”

Early the next day, Marion and Philip realized that Gastion was just a (high) pot name and the real name of the sim had not changed. It remained Gaston. But, in fun, the two partnered criminals called it Gastion (or sometimes Gas Station or just Station) from here on out.

Then one day, without Philip, Marion visited the creepy alley behind the “Station” with the aid of Golden Joe.

“Uugh. Where *am* I?” he asked groggily while swatting away leaves from his face.

—–

“And *who* am I?”

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Filed under *Second Life, Gaston^^

Celebration

“But what will I do without Duncan?” George asks Baker Bloch between sobs.

“You’ll move on son. Forward. But not here.”

“I wish we would have never found that book, that rule.”

“Too late.”

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Filed under *Second Life, The Cross, The Straight^

zilch

George liked it here on the peninsula Duncan assigned him to keep an eye on. This meant Core-Alena in whatever shape she happened to be in at the time. This included The Between, a slither of land representing a neutral point between Virtual and Reality. This meant, well, anything else in and around the peninsula. Just keep your eyes peeled, requested Duncan.

And something had happened tonight, George then realized, peering around. The Seven Crate was gone from its former position behind the Magenta Girls’ beach house.

First the VEN off the boat moored just offshore several days ago, now the SeVEN crate itself. Better get this information back to Duncan as soon as possible, George considered. Maybe… right now?

—–

“I *told* you not to come here, George.”

“I’m properly disguised — in costume.”

“Nevertheless. You’re still a boy of 13 at heart. This is an adult portal.”

George glanced over at the center of it all again. “Milk. And cookies.” He pointed. “Funny.”

“Stop looking over there. You don’t know *what* will show up. Just stare straight ahead.”

“Okay.”

“Tell you what, let’s just get out of here.”

“But I just arrived,” protested George. “Ohhh.”

“Let’s go back to the apartment.” And so they did.

—–

“Okay, I feel a lot more comfortable now with you being here. So… start at the beginning. When did you find the crate missing? After the boat name changed, I know. But just go through the events of the day leading up to it.”

So George unfurled the events of the day leading up to the discovery. Core-Alena and he had had breakfast together at the beach house. “English muffins, ummm,” George remembered. “Core-Alena is a good cook, especially for a tree.”

“That’s a racist and bigoted response,” reprimanded Duncan. “Trees are no different than people. There’s trees that are good with cooking, good with music, good with science. Just like people.” Duncan stared an apology out of his young ward.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay. Now continue.”

“Well, we finished breakfast, and then I helped with the dishes and we sat around and chatted. Core-Alena — well, you know how she is. Always complaining.”

“Watch it,” warned Duncan.

“Alright.” George nodded here. “But she started on… talking about how she got killed again.”

Duncan paused with this, turned and appeared to look out the window toward the great Hotel Chelsea (the center of it all *here*) while actually deep in thought. “I see.”

“She mentioned you.”

“Of course she did.”

“And how she’s not happy being where she is now. Mobile. That’s the problem,” the boy guesses.

“Yeah,” admits Duncan, turning back around. “That’s the problem, George.” He shuffles his feet a bit, wrings his hands nervously. “A conundrum even.”

George pauses in turn. “She needs to go back into the ground. Doesn’t she?”

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Filed under *Second Life, The Straight^, VHC City^

curtains

The next day or something, George came to check on her. Duncan sent him. He was disguised (once more) as a fisher boy, who would never grow up to be a fisher man. Fisher Herman.

“You okay? You seem anxious. What did you see in the crate? Duncan is worried about you.”

“I bet he is.” She clutched her dead teddy tightly, unable to speak for a while. The boy sat silent too.

Finally, after about 10 minutes: “Do you have any sandwiches, Penny?”

“Bread, butter — fix it yourself.”

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Filed under *Second Life, The Straight^