Tag Archives: Greg Ogden

End?

Rocky goes back to Middletown and sets monstrously green Gregg Oden free from his small prison. He immediately becomes red clad Greg Ogden again, planning out his next oil painting of Treasure Hill (*not* a watercolor). Rocky sees an army base nearby and decides to turn in his resignation. Since entering the war 4 days back, Rocky had risen to the rank of lieutenant, soon to be captain in several more hours. It was time to end the insanity before he climbed to the very top of the ranks and was in charge of the whole kit and caboodle. He didn’t want to be trapped in that!

“Wrong side,” he said while looking at the wall behind the central desk within. “Oh well, it’s all games and pretend anyway.” He then saw the name on the typewriter at the desk. He sat down and studied it to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. The brand name: Raccoon.

Rocky found himself typing. And typing and typing. In a matter of hours, he had unfurled his whole story from Olde Lapara Towne, Collagesity, and Middletown. The stack of paper by his side kept growing higher, yet he went on. Future adventures. Collagesity and beyond. Mushroom house in the Adirondacks. Must keep going higher. Higher. To the top.

Two days later he was finally finished. He had risen to the rank of 5 star general, overseeing the whole Gulf engagement. He sent word to his lesser generals. Put down your arms. The insanity is over. There is no war any more. There never was.

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Filed under *Second Life, Jeogeot, Middletown SL, Uncategorized

Switchies 02

Newly formed Roger Pine Ridge decides to sneak by snoozing Cyberpaperdoll on the lower floor and go visit friendly, understanding neighbor Tammy Whatammy in her cabin across just across Old Cannon Road to tell her the news. But Tammy was nowhere to be found within. The entire cabin had basically been cleaned out — no sign that she had ever been there.

Only one object remained: the town’s generic media player. And on it, the Sunklands post had changed once again.

—–

Greg Ogden was trying to ignore all the commotion going on behind him in order to focus on his painting. The subject matter, as always it seemed: Treasure Hill, now about 200 meters north of his chosen perch. To its right, Middletown lay just beyond his draw distance from here. He liked it that way. Treasure Hill alone and without tag-along berg, just like in olden days. Pre Gulf War days, he thinks while listening to a new round of shots from in back. Then a fierce explosion rocked the land, totally ruining an attempted first brush stroke. Greg Ogden had decided to give up for the day when Rocky Raccoo reached his perch from the ravaged camp below, smoking gun in hand.

“Axis or Allies?” he called toward the harmless artist. “Choose or be shot anyway.”

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Monet Greg

Greg Ogden can’t figure out how to start the painting he wishes to do. It’s all so beautiful as is…

One thing he knows for dead sure is that it *won’t* be a watercolor — oil is his choice of medium. No opening exposed for that Greg with the extra “g” to return to the picture. Stay back in Gaston you old varmit!

Gauging the sun and understanding he can’t delay any longer, he pulls out his tube of Winsor and Newton Permanent Green and gets to work.

The next day he does the same.

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Sugar House

“See?” encouraged Baker Blinker. “It’s very nice here. I’d recommend turning up your RenderTreeLODFactor under Show Debug Settings in the Advanced Menu to, say, 10 instead of the default 1. That way the trees will fill out better in the woods.”

“Are you allowed to hunt?” the raccoon queried. “Or shoot atall?”

“No. I’m afraid not Mr. Racco.”

He put his paws on the table. “How about pot? Is it legal here?”

“I’m not sure, Mr. Racco.”

“Rocky, please.”

“Rocky,” Baker Blinker complied. “Do you want to sell it or just smoke it?”

“Both,” he replied rapidly. “That was my plan in Lapara. Before The End.”

“I’m sorry about your bar, Rocky. I’m sorry about Terry more.”

“One and the same,” he said softly, looking down. He paused, then, wiping his eyes, raised his head back up and stared intently at Baker Blinker. “I wish to see the body.”

Baker shook her head. “It’s not a good idea.” She thought back to how Baker Bloch removed Terry from the ceiling with a spatula yesterday. It didn’t happen in one piece.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s talk neighbors… citizens.”

“Well, there’s Baker Bloch of course, then Wheeler Wilson…”

“Who I know from Lapara,” Rocky interrupted. “But explain the clowning. Never understood that. Does this have something to do with Levi Clownski (owner of Olde Lapara Towne along with mate Shoshi)?”

“No, (the clowning) predates the family being involved with that town. It stems from VHC City. Something about The Underground there. Something about the story of Clare Nova.”

“I’m all ears,” Rocky said, leaning forward.

Baker Blinker instead suggested they walk up Old Cannon Road to the apartment and talk along the way. Rocky gleaned the truth.

“You don’t know why she’s clowned. Do you?” Baker admitted she was hazy about all that. Rocky shifted in his chair. “Then I want to see this Gregg Oden, the killer.” His tone had become harsher. “Is *Gregg* a clown?”

“No,” states Baker Blinker plainly, taking it all in.

“And you’re sure?”

“Positive.” Rocky shifted back. “And I don’t think it’s wise to go over to Gaston looking the way you do,” Baker Blinker continued. “All raccoon-y. They forbid aliens there.”

“Aliens smaliens,” he huffed. “Let’s go to Gaston. I have all the time in the world to look over your town. I want to see this *old* Gregg. Gregg with the extra ‘g’, pheh.”

—–

“I thought you said he was green.”

“He *was*,” Baker exclaimed.

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Greg and Gregg

“Interrupted your little party you were planning tonight, did I Baker Bloch? Thought you were going to start the Greg Ogden story without me, did you? You and your fancy town here. I have a town too. Would you like to see?”

Not staring at it, Greg Ogden turned toward Baker Bloch on the couch, who is also looking away. “Which one of us is *real*??” he demands.

“Don’t do that.”


Unseen artwork upstairs (“Hidden Vilage”).

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Filed under *Second Life, Heterocera, Maryland, Rubi, UmapS, Uncategorized, Utah

interruption

Baker Bloch decides to pay a visit to new guy Greg, who is actually, beneath it all, old gal Chroma. He’s heard of a new artwork, a seed it’s been called.

Wall of Jasper, he thinks after teleporting up and looking over at Norum. And Jacob I. trapped within still, the dreamer. That will change soon. Collagesity must prepare.

Wheeler Wilson shows up as well. “Who am I playing tonight?” he quickly starts.

“Me.”

“Okay,” he then says after changing appropriately. “And who are you?”

Baker shows him.

“Ahh, Old Gregg.”

“New Greg, actually. Greg Ogden, not Gregg Oden. And he’s got a fresh piece of art he wants us to see. Don’t expect much. He’s too obsessed with regularity and symmetry to be a successful artist.”

“We better get into character,” suggests Wilson-as-Baker. “What are you looking at?”

“Sh-t,” he says.

Baker sighs. “We better see what he’s up to.”

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A Apartment

Greg Ogden sits in his new apartment and enjoys the latest Sunklands post. “Upstairs guy doesn’t have any heat of his own, eh?” He makes a mental note to figure out this Mr. Babyface’s schedule and turn down the thermostat accordingly. Because Greg Ogden is here to cause avoid trouble. If he wasn’t he would have chosen to remain Gregg Oden and stuck with the seaweed hair, even kept the plot line going over in Morrison.

He spent the rest of the afternoon painstakingly arranging the furniture in the apartment to suit his symmetrical needs.

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