Tag Archives: I.C. Yourinsides

higherarchy

Poor, pitiful creature, Dr. I C. Yourinsides thought, returned to life from the ice cream truck catastrophe like the others. Only *one* eye.

Didn’t she read about a town over in the Atoll Continent that was ruled by such a being, though? She’ll have to look it up later on at her personal console.

—–

Ah yes, here ’tis. Collagesity. Class 2 population place, which is more like a village. The continent also contains a class 3 pp named Olde Lapara Towne — logically: a town, then. And, wow, even a class 4 city (!), just a notch below the Linden controlled class 5 superburgs of Bay, Nautilus, Kama. VHC City it’s called here in this Baker Blinker Blog. But it’s, hmm, bakerbloch.com. Two Bakers.

Wristband monitor alert warned that her energy was running low again. Only 3 hours since the last regeneration. Continuing effects of the New Island catastrophe radiation seem to be worsening lately for unknown reasons. Unable to go groundside until the situation stabilizes. Wouldn’t make it.


Two of those who didn’t make it.

But it’s not New Island below us now, she considers. It’s Fishers Island. She needed to study up more on the differences between the two, and what the consequences are for the SHIFT from one to the other. Given the shituation, this could obviously be bad news, at least for her as a strangely organed alien.

Another class 4 pp immediately below. Multi-sim. Dr. I.C. is manipulating the space as best she can remotely. Red and green banners indicating the continued presence of New Island witch Mid Hazel there. Bar Lemon, a link between past and present. Mr. Yellows too. Wrongful combination. Different kind of pp. A Moon rising against a far Wall, full of caged creatures as well. IT IS FULL. All of that last part due to the last true wizard possessing the Rainbow Sphere now.

—–

Roger Pine Ridge finally found a place in Wallytown where he felt safe to manifest the sphere. Cul-de-sac; no interior to the surrounding buildings. He burned a hole through the fabric of time-space with his cigarette and prepared to look inside again.

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Filed under *Second Life, Fishers Island

centerpoint

Young Ruby looked far and wide for her missing friend Shirley Boot, starting with Yd Bay on the far side of New Island, hoping to hell she didn’t find another bobbing head there like she did before with Trashy the Clown’s (she didn’t).

Another place to visit was Faux Aunt Annie and Karl’s Gloomy Gus on the west coast. Now the last couple of times we checked in — well, actually throughout this *whole* novel, looking back — it seems that Annie was in a heap of trouble with all these pills and incessant dancing and, um, the other thing. And she was! But the death of Trashy the Clown, although extremely difficult to get over at first, was a blessing in disguise. She cleaned up, with aid from loving beau Karl — locked up in the Gloomy Gus for going on two weeks. She emerged exhausted and dehydrated and still a little nauseous, but ready to move forward into the future without drugs and the other, attached things. Karl was her focus now, her beacon of light. So we have a happy ending to that part of our story, and an important one it is. But no luck for Ruby this day — no sign of Shirley there.

Mrs. Fogg and Ms. Frame, now moved in together for mutual protection, food, and liberty, hadn’t seen her either. That basically took care of the whole northwest section of the island, so active these two women were with their sailing and beach running and frequent picnics to the top of Mt. Sondra where they had a commanding view of that part of New Island.

Blue Jay Wade was dead, and his former chum turned complete psychopath Big Red Butler remained incarcerated at the Gaston-Berry jail, at least for this week. But neighbor Zettie Lamont the zebra-ass, similar to Fogg and Frame, had a pretty good view of the lower western part of the island from his perch atop Pimushe Isle. He relayed to the disappointed Ruby that he hadn’t seen the young girl either.

How about one of the houseboats or yachts at the Diamond Sailing Club? Possibility, but since Lisa the Vegetarian Smipson left for Corsica, she has no contacts there.

No one lived at Artist Point in the southeast section of the island. The east was dominated by Mid Hazel’s compound of buildings. Ruby felt that if Shirley had somehow gotten stuck over there she was doomed anyway. Lost to a powerful witch.

Which left center: Mabel’s house (Mabel and roommates Fisher and Bendy had seen nothing), Eraserhead Man and his Rabbit Hole house (nada again), and Robot Derak Jones (who said, check with Eraserhead Man, which she’d just done). Hmm, she thought, standing in the middle of central Route 9 dividing the island almost cleanly in two. She looked down at the buildings: Elephant Club, Axis’ Castle, Flossie’s, a new place beside Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village. “*Wait*,” she suddenly exclaimed. “The Village! I could ask Lavern Glam. She has eyes everywhere.”

So we head back to the ice cream truck, the sole component of this so-called village. Use to be bigger in the day, as they say. But Mr. Glam sold part of his original land to the Elephant Club, who turned it into their western parking lot, and then part to Oranga Black who built the Arcade in back. He downsized from a double wide trailer with indoor seating to the small truck we’ve already seen in that last post, whose cab also doubled as his daughter’s bedroom for a while. She didn’t mind: she felt she remained in the center of it all that way.

Ruby approached the truck. “You’re not Lavern Glam.”

“Yet *you* remain oh-so-red Ruby Roo,” spoke the alien behind the counter. “Exactly 15 1/2 today, this minute, this, um, second actually. Your anti-birthday.”

The island blew up around them. To those on the outside, those who survived, they describe the sound it made as close if not the same as middle C on a piano. Queer, huh? Too queer? We’ll see…

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

Bumpy’s

Shirley Boot approached the ice cream truck cautiously. “You’re not Lavern,” she says while walking up.

“And you’re not Shirley.” Shirley Boot looks down.

—–

Dr. Ice Cream, as the many eyed being is calling herself now, serves Bendy a triple dip chocolate twirl. “So, there you go (!)”

Bendy gently but firmly grasps the loaded down cone with his metal claw and begins to gobble up. Soon he’ll have an ice cream headache, but that’s a worry for later. Cool, delicious triple dip twirl for now! Yum yum yum, nom nom nom.

“Heard you had quite the scare the other night,” the doctor says conversationally. “Thought Fisher ran off with a younger man on ya.”

“Woman, actually,” he manages between gobbles. “Yellow.”

Dr. I.C. stares at Bendy. “Racist?” she questions about him aloud.

“No… Lisa?” Dr. I.C. continues to stare, as if she can see his insides. Bendy then realizes she’s talking about him. “No, no, no,” he defends between nom nom noms. “*Actual* color. Cartoon color. And she’s got a missing yellow brother that I know on good word is still here… on the island. Just invisible to the eye unless you know *exactly* where to look.”

“Then he’s a butthole, an anus,” Dr. I.C. declares, thinking of the planet Uranus.

“He does have the degenerative male Smipsons gene,” Bendy offers, trying to excuse Bartholomew’s natural bastardliness a bit. Another delicious gob of triple dip slides down his gullet.

“Oh I think he has a choice,” counters Dr. I.C, wiping down the counter. “I see a lot. I know the ins and outs of people around here… people everywhere. He’s invisible because he’s a menace to societal law. Refuge. As bad as Big Red Butler if you ask me. Go ahead… ask me.”

Bendy takes 2 quick licks and does what Dr. I.C. requests. “Um, *is* he as bad as, er, Big Red Butler?”

“Yes. Now ask me something else. I have the answers to most everything if you pries around my corners.” Oh look, she then thought evily. What’s that just around the corner of my truck? Beyond the kiln mysteriously placed just in the way.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

no narrow escape

Dr. I.C. Yourinsides knew that this narrow boat would never make it off the wide New Island beach. The magnetic attraction of the place had snared another one.

For the moment, Tessa laid the blame somewhere else. “Oh no, Grandpa. What have you gone and done *now*?”

Sh-t, he thinks from the back. Can’t steer this thing worth a lick!

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island