Tag Archives: Jack ShepherdeGTAV^*+++

January 23, 2025 · 4:23 pm

00450514

“I’ve been struggling to complete this piece for a long while. Could it be you’re the assistant Jack Shepherde promised? I was beginning to think he’d forgotten. Let’s test your artistic eye. Where should my last portion of lime green paint go?”

—–

“I ordered my feets to stop moving but it probably was just an illusion caused by the higher ups, the powers that be. I was still in control by them, not of them. Not yet. And probably never will given what happened when I laid down on that green green patch of grass that so attracted me. I had to lay there, commanded to again, I suppose. I intended just to rest my eyes and body for a second…

“… which turned out to be another hour, the same period of time I spent on that Dry Rock back in, where was it — not Windytown but the town before that. A couple of towns ago. Anyway, I’ve told you the result. Was my period at hard Dry Rock negated by this square of soft, cushiony green, I have to ask?

“Then, after another hour — the place I would be, say, if I didn’t take that long nap, hmmm — I found the plane that I *didn’t* crash. I began to think I wasn’t alone in this netherworld after all. Lime green as I still was, I began to fear The Other.”

“Thank you very much for this information, Philip,” I said, seeing sweat bead on his forehead again. Time to stop for today. Maybe tomorrow we’ll continue. Day 3? I’m not sure if there is such a thing but we’ll see.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0514, Back Rooms, Europe, Holland, MFS

Tagged as , , , , ,

January 19, 2025 · 4:47 pm

00450508

I decided to skirt this arid seeming patch of land a rather large group of buildings nevertheless exists within, not trusting if the ground was toxic or not by the looks of it. While doing so, I fantasized about an imbalance of dry vs. wet, and that this place was a barren wasteland because another neighborhood, perhaps even far far away, became too wet and exotic at the same “time” (quote unquote, because time does not really exist). I found my thoughts becoming weirder as I trodded across this flat flat terrain. How would it end? Perhaps badly, very much so. Yet I had to keep going, nay, I was *commanded* to march forward by powers still unknown. But I had hatched some plans for remedying that. I had to become a *power* myself. God-like.

20 minutes later I stared down at the canal I was walking along and realized how alone I was in this world. Only Me Myself and I around — the Holy Triad — and only 1 of those counted for anything. Yes I needed to consolidate my power. Become all supreme, all knowing.

50 minutes later brought me to Fred (sheep). Fred had a *lot* to say to me; said he’d been lonely too standing in this field of corn without any company for the longest time. He opined strongly about The Netherlands’ economy, saying it was a world heavyweight in comparison to the actual size of the land. 131st in size (among world counties), 2nd in agricultural exports, he proclaimed proudly around the midpoint of our lengthy discourse, which, when checking later, I found to be absolutely correct according to 2020 estimates. I guess Fred would know, living in this country and grazing amongst its agricultural products like this corn all his live long life. We exchanged email addresses and promised to try to keep in touch before I moved on, bound and determined to reach the se corner of Holland by part 10 or at least part 11 of my journey.

A little over an hour later I entered this grassy field dotted with poppies (*not* tulips) and spotted Fred again, even though he had to have been miles away before. “Told you I’d stay in touch!” he yelled at me when I approached. I decided that I needed to call Lester, let Fred talk to *him* to see what he had to say. But all Lester heard was baa-ing of course. I needed that sanity check.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0508, Europe, GTA, Holland, MFS

Tagged as , , , , ,

January 7, 2025 · 3:02 pm

00450414 (a new high and low of it all)

Welp, there she goes again, thinks Newt, sipping on a recently procured nice cool lemonade drink courtesy of a boy named Bart. Back into the tunnel. Guess I better get back to the home base myself, start working on that skybox and maybe the rezzing of that larger version of Howl’s Moving Castle I have in my inventory. Must not forget the Yellow Guy. Or the Red Man or the Green Dude or the Blue Boy for that matter. “Frank’s Moving Mountain” which is kind of the same as “Howl’s Moving Castle” is a way to keep moving forward on that subject.

—–

On Wheeler’s (Shelley’s) part, when she’d finished with her jog, she went to visit the bar that inspired her own over at Conejo Island, which she hadn’t returned to in a while.

Things seemed different. Curious. She copies all copyable objects and brings them back home again to roost.

—–

“Yes!” she says to the bar underwater.

“Yes!” he exclaims to the castle in the sky.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0414, Bull's Bar, Frank's Moving Castle, Jeogeot, Juho, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , ,

December 20, 2024 · 6:27 pm

00450306

“So we next have a big juicy red jewel to insert between the already placed green and blue (insert). There.”

“So no more info for the red one of our continuing saga,” I theorized, knowing Bill had placed the green and blue jewels in the book cover *before* telling their stories.

“No. You invoked the yellow one who lies beyond red and you both drove away from each other, him down to the flatter lands from which he came with his beautiful wife [delete name] and you to your much closer mountain paradise currently devoid of your own beautiful spouse who was in England at the time, soon to be in Avebury. Ave-bury.”

“Yeah (sigh). I know.”

“You *will* return. Center of the world.”

“I know. Hopefully I will. I desire to return and I guess that makes it possible.”

“You *will*… return,” Bill Giant emphasized, drawing the last jewel out of the matching brown bag that came with the book. “Now: yellow. I’m going to go ahead and insert it since I have my hand on it already. Hold on (!); we’re almost there.”

“What about the other holes on the other side of that center circle?” I thought to ask.

“Those will be filled with the anti-jewels that will be provided by the system itself. No need to worry about that.”

“Cool, I suppose.”

“It is (!). The last part, on *our* end, is the activation stone in the middle. We’ll talk about that after our stories, 4 in number, are done. Let’s continue…”

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0306, Oooo

Tagged as , , , ,

November 1, 2024 · 3:16 pm

00440509 (LOST no more (therapy))

“Eat Jack Sheepe power you loser!”

—–

“When I started mowing down pedestrians with my souped up riding lawn mower made from discarded plane parts, I knew I had to change or else face the consequences, like felony charges. That’s when I decided to become a leader rather than a follower. Else the pent up anger would keep resurfacing. I had to find my true potential.”

“Good, Jack. Good to get this out. We’re making so much progress today.”

“Well thanks, Clyde. Nice to see my big bucks I’m forking out to you are finally paying off, ha ha.”

“Riight. So let’s go back to the beginning (again). The vineyard. When did you return?”

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0509, GTA

Tagged as , ,

November 1, 2024 · 6:52 am

00440508

“My first real gig as an owner of a business actually came through the vineyard. I bought out the O’Neill Brother’s crop dusting business when 2/3rds of them died in that unfortunate fire which destroyed their family home, including the only 2 of the 3 who could actually fly a plane. Like me. Only later did I learn the true culprit behind the tragedy.”

“So… you knew how to fly a plane?”

“Yeah. Learned it from my 2 uncles growing up in Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina.”

“Interesting.”

“Isn’t it? Anyway,  Martha — the owner of the vineyard at the time — said to come by every week to douse the vines with a special herbal pesticide she concocted herself, just like those O’Neill brothers did before me, and be sure to leave by 3, or else take a break at 2:45 and don’t resume until 3:15. Else — and the first time she mentioned this she made a throat slitting gesture with her hand and mouth, which of course I took as death. 3 o’clock — death; keep that in mind. But at the time I just took all of this as part of the peculiarities of the old woman and didn’t believe the stuff she was telling me. After all, she had a special recipe for pesticides, you see — a weird-o. But I still didn’t fly at 3. No use taking any chances, I figured. She later revealed that 3 o’clock at night would be bad for me too but didn’t mention it at first because she knew I’d only fly the plane during the day.”

“Why did you call yourself Jack Sheepe in those days?” he asked, thinking of the hanger and its sign. “Instead of Jack Shepherde, like you are now — like the LOST guy? But, let me guess: because you view yourself as a *leader* now, and not a follower. You changed the name to show this.”

“Correct. Do you even need me here? Sounds like you could have done this interview by yourself (!).”

“No, I need you here,” he says with no humor. “Now. Let’s talk about the move to the big city, how that came about.”

“First there was a detour. Through Christianity.”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0508, GTA, Oregon

Tagged as , , , , , , ,

October 31, 2024 · 6:20 am

00440507

He was wealthy beyond anything he could have dreamed of now but he couldn’t help but keep thinking of his humble origins in that vineyard over in the hills north of Lost Sanos, before he became, as it were, LOST in the hustle and bustle of the city’s mean streets. Capitalism, greed took over. Lust for power. Money. A simple video editor of GTA V he was back then. First camera. Couldn’t even figure out how to add his own speech in for the longest time. But then the talking started, and it never ended. Deal after deal after deal, making his way to the top of the pyramid, stepping on the heads of his competitors along the way. Smushing down everything beneath him that needed to be dealt with in his path like accrued sedimentary layers of mud and preserved skeletons. He didn’t feel like he was standing on the shoulders of giants to get to this point. He *was* the giant, towering above the land of man, tall as Atlas. A man and also a whole world. In his head. He could see the circumference, could navigate the surface like a modern day Magellan to all ports of call here there and there to collect favors, debts, even bribes if necessary to keep the collective going forward. But more and more lately he yearned for that old, delicious glass of Pinot noir, his favorite, while staring into the tiled fountain from his favorite seat on the patio, and wondering how to actually produce sound from his lips. Ah, the good old days.

If only he could find his fountain pens he could write down the halcyon beginnings, but big bucks blocked the way once more in the form of an attache case full of dough here, lid raised so he could gaze in on his most recently acquired booty. And he also wondered why he converted his laptop into such.

“Gertrude!” he called on the intercom to his underling secretary, one of the beaten down, one of the ones trying to escape the pressure of the city and return to country origins in her own northern arcadia of the early 21st Century, Morro Bay I believe it is called, a place Jack also knew about; where they met, actually. “Bring me a computer in here pronto and, let’s see, let’s make it a 62 inch monitor this time.” Big screen needed for a big view of the world, he rationalized. His world. F- the pens, f- the fountain, *f-* the vineyard. His thoughts had returned to the normal ones.

—-

“Do you want me to remove the attache case to make more room for you?” she asked after bringing it in and setting it up, gazing down on his now even more crowded desk and also wondering why he converted his laptop into such.

“No I’m not finished staring at it,” he said brusquely, barely acknowledging her presence all the time. Return to normal as I said. She left without more words.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0507, GTA

Tagged as , ,

October 30, 2024 · 6:30 am

00440506

Q:  Tell us a little about yourself. And how you got involved in the Mysteries.

A: Well, my name is Tom Morrow Jack Shepherde, and, yes, that’s like the LOST guy. Except with an extra e on the end, the 9th to complete the 3 and the 6.

Q: Cool.

A: Yeah, that’s part of the Mysteries too as it turns out.

Q: Nice.

A: So, you know, I came up here to the vineyard because I like the nice view from the hills. Figured I could, er, practice my video techniques in this cool setting.

Q: Nifty.

A: And then people, you know, my online GTA buddies, told me about the vine and that I should check it out. So I did.  Just over there (he points). You can just insert that picture I took here if you wish.

Q: I will.

A: And, um, as you can see from this next photo — please insert again — I also found out that the vine glows at night, which my friends *didn’t* tell me about.

Then I found the ring nearby which was *also* glowing;  just down there on a, um, culvert at the bottom of the vineyard (he points again).

Q: Tell us more about the ring.

A: Well, er, I connected it — eventually — to a marriage, like as in a marriage that took place at the vineyard. That was the symbolism that Rock* put in here. Or at least that’s what everyone — my friends again, my online chooms — were telling me. Then I started to have my doubts. I started thinking that the marriage in the vineyard was *my* marriage, as if I was the one getting married here. But not to someone else as in a human — not really. Instead: to the vineyard itself, the wine and so forth. And, ahem, Viney.

Q: Viney?

A: Ah, you know. (he lowers his voice as if this is just a secret between me and him) The vine.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0506, GTA

Tagged as , ,

February 27, 2023 · 3:49 pm

00370201 (and 1 other)

And so they traveled from Mountainair down to Lordsburg, Hucka Doobie’s old stomping grounds. Before she died and was reborn again anew in her old bee form. Now she’s progressed far enough back to human to also more closely examine her human past, pre-bee. She retracts her antennae for good and dives in. Would they make it? Would Duck prevent the success of the journey? The point is that they made it. And Antony at the bottom again or at least Anthony, two of ’em in fact; double the fun. Border towns both. It was not all about Anthony — unlike that other claim — but at least the first 7th was (approximation). I don’t have many friends. Let’s call him up.

“I have to take this,” he said to visiting Hucka Doobie and Barry DeBoy. The Devil, he knew, because of the timing.

“Hallo?”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0201, New Mexico

Tagged as , , , , , , , ,

January 16, 2023 · 8:58 pm

00360509

“Baker Bloch’s soo gullible,” spoke Hucka Doobie to our right, certainly *not* an insect in this situation. Instead: a full fledged woman, complete with all the working parts. “He thinks I’ve reverted. Why would I want to be a bee again? I gave that up ages ago, along with the attached masculinity. And I’ve been faking the transformation back for months, maybe years.”

“Yeah,” chipped in Barry Deboy, famous artist of the Yellowmoon peninsula with his latest series, “Adventures in Tintown”, being a much talked about hit and spectacle. Imaginary defunct tiny town on the outskirts of Mortons Gap, residents say, marveling and shaking their collective heads at the inventiveness. What will that genius come up with next? “He thinks I’m scared of the Ant Castle up here,” Barry continues. “Why… Ant’s one of my best friends (!).” He turns to his right. “Aren’t you Ant?”

Ant didn’t remember or recognize the fellow but he acknowledged the close friendship anyway. That’s the problem with running a business the size of a small banana republic. Lots of friends — hard to keep up with. He’ll take the guy’s word. “Sure, chum,” he said, hoping to catch his actual name later.

“And I guess he thinks you live over in Fearzom on that smaller mountain to the southeast. Good one, Ant.”

But Ant *did* live there. He didn’t live here, in the skybox above the location of his old castle. Back ran the castle and its grounds now, rebuilt from the ground up after the fire explosion of ’83. Ant actually didn’t live in Our Second Lyfe at all. He’s too busy with his business, with his many friends. Real Life we’re talking about here. In Our Second Lyfe he was just an ant, nothing less nothing more. An oversized one, true. And he invented the Bell telephone. Oops, there’s a ring now. The Devil probably, since we were speaking about it.

“Gotta take this.” Ant was hoping it was a call leading him back to the Real World. Exoskeleton costume starting to weigh him down. He answers with his free hand, Tom Collins in the other. Barry’s rock’n a Russian Roulette, and I believe Hucka Doobie holds some ginger ale. She’s not against imbibing but not on the job. And this definitely was work. Acting. With these Bozos. She wonders again if Barry is borderline autistic, so bad he was at it. She’s about convinced. The topo maps did it for her. But he makes up for it in other areas, she thinks (see: last paragraph).

“Hallo?”

Ant sets down his drink and moves away from the others after hearing the voice. Devil indeed.

“Iiii… didn’t expect to hear *back* from you so soon, he he.”

Answer.

“Comedian, yeah. Always. Soo… (he lowered his voice even more) have you made a decision about the girl? Will she be able to keep, you know… her *head*?”

Hucka Doobie knew what the call was about but she prepared to feign ignorance. Barry just wanted to get back to his collages. More fame, more adulation!  It was like a drug to him.

They were dating, by the way. Barry and Hucka. Baker Bloch had no clue about that as well.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0509, Corsica, Northwest

Tagged as , , , , ,