Tag Archives: HAT REMOVAL

Alien Beach (specifics)

“Well, Wheeler. There it is. Alien Island. The new foothold.”

“And here we are, still not together, still not a couple, Peter and Prissy swum away to some secluded haven in the sea.”

“He stole my hat!” Baker Bloch exclaims again, this time aloud.

“Indeed.” She noted it was back. Did *he* notice?

“What… do you make of it?”

“Do you know what hat stealing means? Hat removal?” she rephrases.


“You know.”

“Sex?” he guesses, then realizes the obvious. “Ted Bear,” he says, segueing into Wheeler’s new train of thought.

“About this time in the past,” she began, “we showed a film. ‘3 Friends of Belleville.’ Remember?”

Baker thought back to a Table meeting that seemed far far away, almost hidden in time if it weren’t for memory reinforcements; continual; eating through time like sideways ants. “Yes. We could have moved backwards from Belleville into Billville: ‘Billfork’. But we instead moved forward.”

“‘Pumpkineaters,’ yes,” Wheeler agreed, and then studied the shore again in front of them. Not looking back, not looking *black*.

Baker thought about Mabel, how happy she was. *Wait*. That wasn’t it. “Wilson Wheeler?” he said, testing her name. She didn’t answer. Her task for the night seemed done.

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whitewashed (no sun (Princess))

Alysha had that dream where she was stuck on the moon. Back to reality, yikes!


“Sure you don’t want a shot at riding the bull, sweety?” asked handsome Field who had ditched his hat. “10 seconds and we’re in.” This was an audition, she understood. A role in an important important film yet to be made, yet to be thought of, even. ‘All hail the Wild White Whale,’ she recalled, and now kind of knew more about what it meant. This was no bull.

Black cat Gar looked on, understanding the same.


“Is this thing even working? Testing, testing…”

Good thing she’s a multi-instrumentalist.

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She became his most regular visitor afterwards. “Tell me more about the Merry Go Round people,” she requested in her cool, silky way while remotely animating the pair again and making them spin around a common axis. Axis, she thinks. Her *husband*.

“Crack and Whack, police agents, or so they claimed. More prisoners to this small isle,” he said in his toy bear voice, just made for a loving child who was far far away now, in a different plane of existence actually. “Punished because of a bust. Broken into pieces they said he was. Took them forever to put the guy back together, the chief-inspector said, Petty I believe, unless it was Ketty — can’t recall which, actually. Usually my memory is excellent, like an elephant’s.” Should have *been* an elephant he laments here, daring to glance past Alysha’s tall, sprawled out body beside him at the Ella Phanta ride across the water to their right. Still fully on dry land. Unlike him.

“Hmm,” she replied, and sat up or rolled over, take your pick.  But then she switched everything around and enacted the unexpected, turning toward the bear instead and starting to apply suntan lotion to his smiling head. New!

“So, Mr. Teddy (squirt). Tell me (squirt apply) how Baker Bloch got off that island over there? (apply apply)” She’d taken off her hat as well. Didn’t get her anywhere. He hadn’t requested she turn into a bobblehead, like Baker. After all this time. You think it would happen already if it was going to happen. She was tired of talking about the beach toys. She’d gotten their story now a half dozen times apiece. Always the Ketty-Petty confusion, and he doesn’t even know he’s repeating himself.

“Jen-nny,” he said, completely falling under her spell and revealing stuff he would never do otherwise. “Paii-d.” He meant bail here.

The next time she kept her hat on while still fulfilling his sentence. You can say their relationship changed.

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We start again not at Ruby’s left leaning wagon in Spirit Witch where Waldrop was summoned but instead at the nearby community of Bear occupying a tiny island in Moomit Bay directly below Monevole. Baker Bloch bares his head in deference to the great King of the island: Ted, of course. Ted Bear. You had to bare something, he gathered, to have an audience with him. The hat would do, Ted indicated to the newest visitor to his islet kingdom. Thank you, he added. He was glad of visitors and wished them 24/7. He was an extreme extrovert, thus his isolation in the bay as everyone around him tired of his constant visiting and hovering. We’ll come to you now, they all said around him, wishing him well on his new venture. He didn’t understand at first, cried a lot, but then came to accept his “imprisonment.” *Selective* extroversion, that’s the key, they said, still gathered around him on the shoreline but shortly to leave, back to their spouses and siblings to heave a big collective sigh of relief that Ted wouldn’t come a knocking on their door tonight or tomorrow night or hopefully ever again. Something is not right with you, they said, almost at the end. This is the only way. And then they were gone. Ted turned on the radio. Storm a brewing. More tears fell. The lighthouse blinked on and off at his bidding but there was no way to go inside. The toys down at the beach played on. His only companions now except for the occasional visitor, the ones who cared. Ted foresaw in the palm leaves the coming of a tall, white eyed stranger, a cowboy, no a spaceman. Half and half, although he wasn’t suppose to use that phrase in front of anyone else. Keep it to yourself, they also said that day they left him on that islet, never to return again to normal existence.

So he was not surprised at the appearance of me, Baker Bloch or Baker B., who fit the description of the prophecy. “You have to bare…” he said to me because it was part of his sentence on the islet. Like I said. “… something,” he completed, looking me over good, picking me apart even. I took off my hat. It seemed to do the trick, like I also said before.

Looking at my shiny dead dome, he decided I should go one or two or five steps further and turn into a bobblehead of myself. “This is so we don’t feel you are talking *down* to us,” he says in his bear voice, tamed from years playing with human children. He hasn’t eaten anybody since ’62. Not since he was an actual bear, himself shot in ’65 and stuffed into a toy. He was soo happy at first! A toy! he cried. I can do *anything*, play with anyone, *be* with anyone. Humans watch out! And they did. And so he was here.

So *I* did, and he promptly gave me what he declared was my own island as a reward… just right over here within close earshot; they could talk all the time, he said, trying not to show too much excitement. I had successfully become one of them, whatever that actually meant.

The wrong Ruby suddenly appeared on the beach across the water. I realized I had been trapped as well. I believe she may have been cackling but it could have been the sound of a sudden gush of cold wind blowing across my bare head atop my now diminutive body. Then the others appeared…

I was no extrovert but it was the same with me. They were irritated and they decided to isolate. I counted at least 7 people on the shoreline who I thought were true friends.

(to be continued)

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“Arrr. *There* be my three cornered hat. Thank yee for keeping it for me, Saucy Wanda.”

“Wendy,” she replied, use to the bastard pirates getting her name wrong. Especially this bastard pirate. Randolph was his name and magic squares were his game. Especially Jupiter’s right now. He be melancholy lately. Not just because he lost his hat — that was only several hours ago. This be days ago. The tinies on the exact opposite side of the Maebaleia/Satori continent took something from him, but something of much greater value (and he truly loved his hat). Not exactly his pride, although that factored in too.


Elvis Kannelvis was back to training again. He wish someone would just blow up the Urban ice cream parlor over there across the sim line. 15 lbs.! He’d never fit in the hole at this rate. He’d have to cancel the event, lose all that potential money. No… NOT tonight. Back to the woods across the road from the *Active* Urban Mall. And why all those Urbans again in this one small space, he pondered while trying to run even faster at the first whiff of pineapple strawberry.


“Here,” he said while bending over and starting to sort out the gold glass shards. Or was that blue. Red? “Maybe we can put it back together.”

Green now. “No way!” cried Tiny Wanda in her miniature voice to Blue Bear Y. Ginger would, of course, know the difference, despite the giant gummy beast’s fame with fusion energy. They couldn’t put the *colors* back together.

Gold again. Blue.


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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0612, Continent's Edge, Maebaleia/Satori, Outer Islands, X-City^

heart o’ toys



“You told me to report back here as soon as I found something.” Famed Mmmmmm Grassy Noll dramatically paused. “I found something.”

“Hold on,” requests Wheeler Wilson. “I’ll phone up Baker Bloch. He said something about a new Junkyard. He should be in on this. You say it’s big?”

“*Big* big,” insists Grassy.

“Hold on, then.”


“Yes, here it is. The post from the old Baker Blinker Blog showing a Mossman. Could be Gene Fade again.”

“It is!” reinforced Grassy Noll.

“But in a somewhat different location of the continent,” adjusted Wheeler Wilson.

“The connection is obvious, though, Wheeler,” Baker Bloch compromised. “*Must* be something to it.”

“Yes!” Grassy piped up again.

“And you say this was right next to Art’s parcel. The same Art that use to live on the edge of Collagesity? The balance to the Blue Feather we sit in right now?”

“That’s right.” Grassy’s wonky eyes were darting about the place even more than usual. He was quite excited, and most likely rightly so.

“I’m going to remove my hat once more so that the reader can take a better look at the 2010 Mossman.”

“I’m going to phone up Hucka Doobie while you’re doing that.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0013, 0109, Heterocera, Rubi^

We Are Family.



Come on out Wilson. I know you’re in there. Come on.


I’m not Wilson. Anyway, I think you want Wheeler. Wheeler is in Wilson. The Wilson-Wheeler dichotomy. Who came first? What came second? Etc.

Carr.: (thoughtful):

You’re not Wilson.


No. I came to ask about the collages. There’s a rumor around town that Spider will be let loose within them again.


Not Wilson?


No again. This happened once before LINK. Remember? (turning to Spider) Remember Spider?


Spider will talk one day but not today. Maybe tomorrow.


Are the rumors true?


Who told you this? Wilson?


Not everything revolves around Wilson, Carrcassonnee. *We’re* here. Baker Blinker, Karoz, Hucka Doobie, myself. We’re permanent. The permanent family members.


Do me a favor Wilson. Make a list of permanent and impermanent residents of this town. My town. I can’t move around well enough to do so. Census, perhaps. Yes, a census. Can you do that? Go to each house. Knock on each door of each house. Make a count. Ask pertinent questions. Report back to me. Go.


Alright I’ll do that later but there’s not many residences in town, actually. A lot of galleries, a number of so called businesses supported by the galleries…


You do this for me, I’ll send Spider into the collages. What specifics do you need from my end for the entrance?


I don’t know. What are your ideas about it? Do you have ideas?

Carr. (roaring):



O-KAY. (an obviously irritated Baker Bloch looks around for his blown off hat)


I will not argue with you again.


I-I don’t remember arguing before.


This has happened too often. Bring out Wheeler.




Okay, we’re both here now. Just to confuse you more, hehe. So *there’s* Wheeler. Wilson and Wheeler. Two headed girl boy. (Baker Bloch looks at Wilson)




Hold on hold on. I’m going to do a trick. Hold on to your hat Carrcassonnee! I’m going to revolve you around. Let’s see how this goes. Ready… go.


I didn’t feel much.

BBloch (after seeing it wouldn’t work):

No. The radius is too big. I was going to attempt to merge with Wilson.


That would be catastrophic! NEVER try that again. EVER.


Jesus Christ Carrcassonnee.


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Baker rezzes at home base once more, and pauses to take a look around. The Falmouth Gallery looms impressively from this angle.


Carrcassonnee’s fire is on. She’s in. But Baker resists going inside quite yet.


He keeps just turning around in his tracks. Lockfry’s old trailer. Wonder if he’ll ever return to Collagesity? Not John Lockfry 02, but the red guy, the one that was buds with Karoz at one time over in Crabwoo on the Maebaleia continent. Or so they said.


And then in the fourth and final direction comes Baker’s Home Orange, an old and now new center. Baker Bloch’s father Space Ghost has returned and is planted inside, I believe. Space Ghost wants to become one with his son, and I think that can happen now.


He keeps poking around Collagesity, visiting the never finished town museum with its lone hanging collage: the theoretical start of the Bogota series. Never really focused in, just like this picture never seems to focus in for Baker. Defective texture? Must be.


Baker glances west to the Tower of TILE, technically kind of part of Collagesity as well. He again ponders rezzing (another?) Gloomy Gus structure there.


He zooms in on the forest and its many trees, exactly 199 in number. Or is that 200 now with Unch? Is Unch real?


Has he neglected the mysteries of the forest? Is there a whole parallel universe not taken where many advances have come in that direction?


As he just scans around the forest in zoom mode, he sees, well he sees what appears to be himself sitting in a lawn chair on the parcel with the Tower of TILE.


But then the birdie winks out. It’s Wilson. Phew! Tit for tat, I suppose.


Baker forgets about Wilson for a moment as he decides to head over to Jorondip and BoB in general just to check that whole scene out as well tonight. He eventually lands in Gormthoog, staring at the giant green faune statue over purchasable land. Could this possibly be his new home? A new Collagesity location? Couldn’t be, could it?


Then it was back to the actual Collagesity next to the Rubi Woods. Wilson was still there sitting in his chair. Baker approaches…



… to find a strange girl-boy. This must be Wheeler, he surmises. She/he spoke.

“I’m looking for a facelight tonight… heading back over to BoB. Wanna come? Well, you actually have no choice. Let’s go!”


Later on, Baker gains a facelight but loses a hat. He has become the bald headed seal for real.


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Shake No Shake



Thought I’d sit over here for a change.


I can’t see you but that’s okay. Sometimes best not to see better to hear.




Not yet. (pause) So… you know more now. You see it developing. Dr. Mulholland is back. And Mulholland Dr. [ and its dilemma] with it. But there’s really no choice.


No. Not for me, of course. Or I guess you could call it my anti-me. My evil me.


Not evil. Don’t worry about that. But your double. And it’s you as well.


I am happy.


Of course. But you must put it to a better test. This makes you even safer.


The 4th has entered. Like it always had been.





Karoz walks in.

“So you knew.”

“Of course.” Karoz looks down at his nails.


“But not Lodi,” Karoz responds. “Don’t go there.”

“Pluto, then,” Baker offers.


“Can we make true peace now?”

“You are the bald headed Seal,” Karoz says. “That is what you’ve always been. A bald headed Seal.”

“I guess I could take that as a compliment.”

“Think about it. You have to take off your hat.”

Baker thought about it.

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