Tag Archives: Guy Benjamin/Guyd^^++++^*%

May 19, 2025 · 2:26 pm

00460614 (Windsong the 4th)

Guyd had smelled it for a while with her more sensitive nose even though Rebl hadn’t heard anything with her sharper ears because of the masking water portal sounds, Benny Right Horn’s plan all along. The same smell as with the dog-man before on the tracks. He was off the tracks… and close! They dare not move from their secret room in the caves. The Mother Ship had been alerted to the danger. Should be arriving in, let’s see, 3 weeks. 3 weeks! Not enough time! It will be the end of time literally for them now, they feared, they knew!

Then Rebl heard. Not a horrible thing on the radio this time like w/ the bombing of New York in photo-novel 17 but from beyond one of the two rock walls that protected this room, left and not right. But what’s direction in a cave system like this? So let’s call it right…

… as in Benny Right Horn. Right outside after learning of the secret passage from Windsong Fairy, left bleeding out in the portal stream after a scream — that Rebl picked up on. Attracted by the guitar of course, which Benny played splendidly this morning after warming up quietly all night. She had to show up. She had to proposition again. Like with Douglas (successful), like with Carolin (not successful but she’s still working on it — *was* working on it). Benny knew she couldn’t resist. He’d get the information out of her just like he did with Big Ass Franz down at the bar. Both dead, it seems. Benny had to make sure Franz didn’t contact the cat-people to warn them. Same with Windsong Fairy — couldn’t take a chance. And here he was. And there they were: trapped. Does this particular photo-novel have a happy ending? Or a tragic one? Only several more posts to find out!

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May 19, 2025 · 2:26 pm

00460613 (library & cave (Windsong 3))

They were disappointed that they couldn’t sit directly across from each other and talk. Tessa had found something in her book about the Windsong fairy and wanted to tell Carolin. But she had to wait. All she could do in the moment was give a big thumbs up to her mate, her gal pal from the old days in the caves. Carolin returned with a thumbs up of her own. She’d found something too. Cat-people. Secret room. Somewhere around the Windsong portal. So two Windsong finds. Although they couldn’t talk with each other to coordinate the tales and make them as one. Because that’s what they were.

Benny Right Horn knows this too now, having visited the End of Time library several days back and coordinating the two stories himself. Rebl and Guyd were two cat-people, cat *aliens* indeed, who were left behind as the rest of their kind boarded the Mother Ship waiting for them in space and went back home to their red cube planet, probably circling the giant red star Betelgeuse by the color of it, Benny determined. And that’s where my brother must have gone, he thought. He’d also heard about the 1 after 909 ship from Big Ass Franz the bartender at the castle in the skies. Upon threat of death, sharp and long knife blade held to throat. Despite his flabby, unkept appearance, Benny had expert military training in the Queen’s army too just like his trimmer shaped and sharper dressed brother. The Queen, who just happened to be their mother, insisted on the training; knew it would come in handy to save their lives not once but a number of times most likely. She’d seen them argue as toddlers and then argue and fight in their schools as children and teenagers and then argue and fight and argue in their jobs as so-called grown ups quote unquote. Troublemakers these two were. But they were *her* troublemakers still. She had to make sure they were protected.

He wouldn’t stick to the tracks this time, because that just shoots you out the other side, he knew from his prior visit. But he also wouldn’t try to pick his way through the rest of the dangerous, labyrinthine cave system to find the cat-people’s hidden lair and be led astray that way. He’ll stay put in one place, and he knows precisely where this should be.

The pretty nature room adjacent to the watery Windsong sim Portal. Whatever goes down, it will happen here — he’ll *make* it happen.

Setting up camp for  the night…

… and *quietly* warming up on the guitar, he he he. He’s had expert training that way as well — but it’s been a while.

(to be continued)

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May 18, 2025 · 1:32 pm

00460610 (deja vu)

She smelled him before she heard him and she heard him before she saw him. Like a dog, yech! Might as well be shite. Bury it like a bad dinner and put a little tombstone on it and call it such. But… she’d seen him before, she’d *been* here before.

This cat who didn’t quite measure up as a person named Guyd.

Long time acquaintance and good enough friend Rebl, although eligible to go in the Mother Ship with the rest, decided to stay behind in the caves as well and matched her eyes accordingly, red and blue to Guyd’s green and yellow. Like Kansas City and St. Louie, like Cleveland and Cincinnatus from yet another state, they became a team major and not minor in nature, a force to be reckoned with. A perfect TILE is another way to put it. Plus, Rebl wanted to stay close to Big Ass Franz down at the bar below them, although she hid this fact from her cat companion. They still formed a pipeline of information.

(to be continued)

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October 5, 2022 · 9:59 am

familiar faces (mowing on)

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May 27, 2022 · 10:29 am

fish head (YES MAYBE NO)

“Who is she?” he asked, heart still thumping from all the excitement.

“Goes by Helen.”

Helen, Guy pondered. Like Troy. Destroyer of Men.

Time to reset to Zero.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0209, Nautilus, NORTH, Slaashsides

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November 2, 2021 · 6:47 pm

reversed

The sim above Bart had finally turned from a raspberry shade of color back to clear, indicating it was online again. He could return to his boat that he rented to impress his new “girlfriend”. He turned the sky raspberry instead and went to work.

—–

We don’t need Axis-Windmill between us to know this is all about TILE, Guyd.”

“We sure do, Rebl,” the fellow cat-person answered, but not a fellow like in a boy. Two girls and two cats. But that was about all they had in common.

“Better get over to the boat, Guyd, see what SID is up to.”

“That isn’t SID.” Yellow and green eyed Guyd tried to disagree with red-blue eyed Rebl at every important turn, and this was certainly one of ’em. Guyd felt SID was a character that didn’t need to be introduced in this here photo-novel, 29 in a series… in a series…

“I know,” agreed Rebl, surprising Guyd and knocking him out of his usual anti-Rebl mode. “This is Bart.” Both made “O”s with their mouth, as if they’d surprised each other. It was the first time they synchronized since Tuesday. 2 years ago.

—-

“DONT”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0029, 0613, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

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November 1, 2021 · 8:20 am

00290611

“I lost you in the tunnel!” director Percy Pierce complains as Axis-Windmill tries to defend his disappearance from a the scene.

“Well, ahem…”

“And I see you brought your two cat friends along to help your case. She turns to the red-blue eyed one on his right. Rebl *lawyer* is it now?”

“Yes ma’am. Axis did nothing wrong,” she begins in her purry way. “He followed the G-Spots through the tunnel to the missing letters.”

“Letters?” Percy Pierce spoke. “Don’t you mean: *letter*.”

A pause. “A moment with my client,” Rebl then requests, which Percy agrees to. Whispers; heads nodding and shaking; green and yellow eyed Guyd on the left side joins in the conversation. Percy can only make out scattered words (Paper, King, Soap, couple more). Finally: “enough”, she says. “We must get on. 9:30 shoot tomorrow. We must all be fresh.”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” says Rebl in turn. “Don’t you mean: *shot*?”

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September 30, 2021 · 6:15 am

camping

The first night staying in Neat Town I shared a cabin with a guy named BOOS, oddly enough. I was checking the blog for new posts about Cass City (no go) when he began to speak about the main topic at hand.

“Have you seen one?”

I was still busy with the search. “Cass City + Windmill”. Nope, hadn’t been there in a couple of nights, not since meeting — who was it? — Percy Pierce (of course!) at that place next to the railroad that runs between Cass City and Scratchy — almost runs. Strange that those 2 cats control all of Our Second Lyfe. Or so Percy says. Overlords, eh? Not the Lindens. I looked over. I could only see the top of his blue body from my position, not even a head. “I’m sorry… what did you say?”

“I *said*, have you *seen* one? The samsquanch.”

“They wha-? Oh.” I think back to the big bigfoot statue at the entrance to the campground I decided to stay at to begin my exploration of the town and its environs. “You mean sasquatch. Yes: bigfoot.” I tried a search on the tag Percy, then started with Guy/Guyd. Aha (!) Benjamin Guy *is* Guyd — with an extra letter. Figures.

“Bigfoot yes, whadd I say? I have.”

Axis-Windmill set the laptop aside, figuring he’d have to follow through with the conversation or else get no more work done tonight. “15 minutes,” he requested as politely as possible. “Then I must get back to my business. I have an important blog to run now.”

BOOS would not be deterred from his subject. “They came down in a, get this, *shoe* on the western edge of town, a *giant* one. They started unloading red houses, started dotting the landscape with ’em. The shoe flew away. The bigfoot started moving the houses into position. A town was born. A *neat* town.”

Axis-Windmill’s forehead furrowed, trying to wrap his brain around what the heck BOOS was talking about. Neat Town created by bigfoot or, er, bigfeet? “How many?” he decided to reply.

“How many what?”

“How many bigfeet did it take to create the town? Or were involved?”

“I don’t know. *Ten*? What does it matter? We’re talking about *bigfoot*. He’s *real*.”

“I’m sure there are women bigfeet as well.” Axis-Windmill wasn’t going to let go of his new appelation. Bigfoot plural: bigfeet. He’ll look up if anyone else calls them that after he’s finished talking with BOOS. He checks his watch: 8 minutes now.

“Awwww,” BOOS waves over at me. “You don’t believe.” He rolls over and pretends the conversation is over, baiting me. So I decided to take it.

“I believe. No, truly, I believe. Tell me (quick search for “Rebl” now in the pause)… more.” I’ll half listen for the remaining, let’s see, 6 minutes now. Won’t be long.

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September 29, 2021 · 7:25 am

train of thoughts (for now)

Guyd on one side, Rebl on the other, the director of the current film (“Sunklands 2021 Even Later”) talks with newly synthesized Axis Windmill Man about further developments in the plot. Don’t want another giant diamond ring in an open casket situation to end!

“Scratchy is the destination,” began Axis-Windmill in earnest after the niceties were over. Down to business now. Cass City business. “The show within the show that is Our Second Lyfe.”

Director Percy Pierce tried to put new lover Marion Star Harding out of her mind. She’d been thinking about him ever since they parted ways several days back — left him back at Starfish Lake or Sea or whatever the f- they’re calling the body of water these days — the new trend. She knew he, in turn, still thought about Heidi. Actually: another show within a show, since it is a mere window in his mind now. Job at hand…

“Snowball in Hell is… reality?”

“There are 2 sides to this,” explains Axis-Windmill, looking at green and yellow eyed Guyd to the left, then red-blue eyed Rebl to the right. He moves his right hand toward his left hand to meet in the middle and form praying hands.

“Are you saying we should *pray* for the correct plot direction?”

“Erm.”

“Ob-JEC-tion,” overruled Guyd from the left. “This show should be non-denominational.”

“Secular even, yes,” interjected nodding Rebl from the right.

Director Percy Pierce peered at them as well. “The feline-people will have their way. They created all this after all, like toys for their boys.”

“Did they?” Axis-Windmill obviously had his doubts.

“Yes,” doubled down Percy Pierce.

“That’s not what the manual states.”

“The manual remains a draft in places. I’m sorry — I meant to update before you were synthesized and acquired lines.”

“The manual states–”

“I *know* what the manual states.” They sat silent for a spell, all 4 of them. Percy’s thoughts involuntarily drifted back to Marion… and, within the window (she almost thought “windmill”), the director that preceded her.

(to be continued (?))

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September 15, 2021 · 9:17 am

BoB

“I’m not dead!” he cried to all those sitting and standing around the grave site looking down. “It’s *just* a ring.”

It all came together at the end for Mouse. Too late, of course.

—–

“So this is it,” Man About Time exclaimed mildly. As usual. “The thing that did him in.”

“LOVE, yeah,” answered Jeffrey Phillips, wondering how he himself could talk again. He died as well (!). “He… couldn’t pass through the O, got stuck in it. Spy Guy Benjamin tried to help, but…”

“… got stuck himself,” completed MAT for Jeffrey, having read the story up to this point too. What was the point? Just close the damn coffin lid why don’t you.

“He can’t die in Vain.”

“He didn’t,” answered MAT truthfully.

“Good for you, MAT,” said Jeffrey Phillips. “I didn’t think you would take this so swell.”

“It’s just a game. Endtime.”

“Yes, death will do that to you. Lure you in, like a fish. And when you land on the shore — it’s *only* when you land on the shore…”

“You see the water,” completed MAT again.

—–

Next door (sometime in the past):

They say the doctor before this new one, Jr. — he was married to an alien woman. Found her spaceship crashed up in the hills.”

“That’s — not — right,” the littler golden robot squeaked back.

“You’re right, Jr. It *wasn’t* right. He should have turned her *in*. And now he’s paid the price: banishment. *Now*, are you ready to go inside and let the new doctor, this Diper fellow, take a look at those gold plated tonsils?”

“Guess — so.”

“You guess so.” Claude Sr. blew out air from his mechanical lungs. “I had mine taken out about the same age as you are, in fact, the exact same age.”

“12 — I — know.”

“That’s right, Jr. 12. All mechanoids have to have their original tonsils taken out, then. Else: viruses.”

“I — read — the pamphlets.”

“Nice.” But Claude Sr. knew it wasn’t tonsils that were taken out. The pamphlets lied. He’d find out soon enough. Just like with Santa Claude.

They head inside for the operation.

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