Tag Archives: Jeffrie Phillips^*~~~~~

Paperweight

He sat at the table outside the bamboo hut he’d rented several days back and thought about All Orange and what he’d lost. The phone rang (D Flat). The phone never rang.

“Hallo?” He was expecting someone jovial, not saturnine. He was surprised. He stared at the missing blue eye on the Book of Monsters before him as she continued to chatter. He dare not crack the cover lest the other one roll off. Especially now. Would he get a word in edgewise?

—–

She hung up the phone. “We’ve got to keep an eye out on him,” spoke Jeffrie Phillips, glancing over at his bamboo hut across the water. “He may even try to off himself, say.”

“No he won’t.”

Her hair was now the green of seaweed but she was no monster, or at least Jeffrey thought. Was she?

“What next?” he queried about her appearance. “Your skin turns green?”

“Maybe,” she shot back quickly. Both knew that if this happened she was lost for good to him. Maybe even the mohawk would reappear.

Something was happening on this sim. A painter paints. A complainer complains. ART appears. A perfect circle. Pooh with his honey pot moves away from the scene with little to no impact now.

A perfect circle, eh? I thought, yellow included. I knew what this meant.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0414, collages 2d, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

still life with lemons

“You see, once I get the location and then the proper people it all flows pretty freely. I usually can’t go back and edit, and if I do I usually revert it to the original language. Just clean up stuff is usually all that’s permitted, some tense correction and such — sometimes.”

“Fascinating stuff,” replied Dr. Mouse in his always slightly sarcastic tone to Collagesity town leader Jeffrey Phillips — *still* leader, despite the recent death, thanks to Wendy and the wedding vows, which have been renewed several times since. It is good that he is attached to her. “But we’re not here to talk about how you create blog posts in this here Sunklands. Instead we need to talk about the *girl*.”

Jeffrey Phillips tried to figure out which girl. He didn’t want to embarrass himself (again!). “Yes, she *is* a problem,” he decided to say.

“Problem?!” spat back Mouse. “Salvation more like it (!).” Dr. Mouse waits a beat, allowing Phillips to deliver his next line. He looks over at the top of his cane resting against the table edge. He decides to slightly suck at the roughage sticking to his teeth. Hydroponic vegetables — not his dish. Give him some red meat and a side of something else with meat in it any day. Jeffrey Phillips has obviously forgotten his lines. He glowers a bit at him, even. Shoot, he’ll have to improvise. I doubt Ronald would want to reshoot this late in the day. “Yes, like I said: *salvation*. We’re obviously talking about Ruby Alien here.” Dr. Mouse keeps staring and the actor (Jim Hayseed) through him. Go ahead and bring up *Alysha*, he simmered internally.

“I…” he sputters, “think we’re actually then talking about…”

“Alysha, right,” answers Dr. Mouse for Jeffrey Phillips. Finally back on script.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0315, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

tale tale

“It’s the Fortress all right,” he im’ed Alysha remotely. “I’m standing directly beside 300 over in Eveningwood.” This is where Duncan A. entered the Sphere through Fieldon, he thinks to himself. This is where Marty probably followed him.  All the way to Borneo which wasn’t Borneo any longer. The Oracle — predicted this.

“I tried to get through the gates,” Alysha im’ed back, still in the northern Nautilus village with the one black and the one rumored gay. “15 sec ejection period.” She then leaned back against the cool stone of the well also pondering the next move but along different lines. The buildings were duplicates but — what did this mean?



Eveningwood


Northern Nautilus

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0216, Eveningwood, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^

the farm of the Deep South is a seemingly pattern-

“I found it! Now go tell Alysha.”

“She’s *your* friend.”

—–

“Whaddaya think? What does it say? Can you read it? Is it too blurry? Do you need to borrow my reading glasses?”

“Nah. Fine.” She turned another page, and then she turned 10. The rock wall.

“I’m sooo excited.” (*sip*)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0214, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^

00270213

After the note he never saw her again in her original form, although a ting of blue hair remained, as Charlene the Punk explained it. In a certain light, say, at dawn or dusk. She announced she was now a messenger, *The* Messenger, and has lived a long time and seen a lot of things and was getting tired, getting wore down. She needed to pass some of her knowledge onto another. Thus the revelation of the Big Inside at this here dinner meeting at Perch. the one Jeffrie Phillips wrote about in his note slipped under her Kidd Tower door.

All she asked for in return was the monster book Jeffrie possessed. He’d bought it for a hefty price (300), but she said money was not an option. When Jeffrie asked if she meant money was not an issue, she replied, “I said what I said.” He tried to figure this out. Did she just want him to *hand* it over, no strings attached? She stared at him, 3rd eye obviously squeegeed wide open but with no drugs involved. Just wisdom derived from being a relative immortal. They called themselves that, anyway, she explained during another part of their meeting, before the mushroom and olive pizza arrived which they’d agreed upon. Despite the actual limited shelf life.

“How old are you, then?” asked Baker, mesmerized by the turn of things.

“Do you have all night for me to recite the numbers?” She winked with this, but two eyes still remained open. He was like a fish on a hook, being real real realed in. The Big Inside awaited. Yes, he had all night. But not at the Blue Feather. He knew a little hotel up at Starfish Lake that had a couch with some nifty animations. They could go there. He’d phone Charlene up and say his car broke down over in Tinseltown down at the bay. “Must have been the weighty or salty sea air,” he rehearsed in his head. She’d suspect but he had to give it a try. He’s been good before about balancing two women, heck three or four at times, he he. A natural juggler he is. But of course Sally knew this too and had also given it a shot. It worked. She was inside as well.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0213, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^

squeegeed

“Using the tip from Sally, we followed the car all the way to the entrance of the park but could go no further. *Fifes* Grove Park, like in Barney Fife.”

“Like in Barney *Rubles*,” emphasized Man About Time, fascinated with the new information. He hardly ever emphasized anything in his speech, so mild manner and calm and cool and collected he is. But this seemed different. They had found a way… inside.”

“I thought you might want to know, being second in command of this here chilly town in the mountains.

“So beige,” said MAT almost religiously. But he understood. “In case something happens to me,” is the unspoken sentiment.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0212, Iowa, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^

Hollywood

They were all dead now, these “monsters”. All except herself. She stared at the empty space that should have held her own picture, thinking back to the time they first discovered her superpower. She was called the ugly duckling, the unpretty one who instead seemed to be cut from the cloth of the ordinaries all around them, the mundane, the *muggles* to borrow a phrase from another supernatural mythology. Must have been blinded Uncle Sam on a town bender, they figured. But as they aged, she didn’t. They then traced the genes back to Great Great Great Aunt Selma on the father’s side, who was from a long line of immortals. Then they traced the whereabouts of Selma herself, living under a new guise in Cheeseburger, Wisconsin down near the city dump or city hall take your pick. “Of course she has powers,” Selma replied in a middle-aged voice about Sally’s seeming normalcy, at least judged by the outer world that we, us non-monsters, live in. “Why would she be staying with you otherwise, humm? Uncle Sam has nothing to do with this; she’s actually the oldest of all of us.” She addressed each of her visitors individually: “Great great grandson, great great great niece and nephew(-in-law), great great great *great* grandson. Meet your ancestor with a family name so long that it would take the rest of the day to pronounce. I’d suggest you just keep calling her Sally, then, but respect the hell out of her from now on and look to her for sage advice instead of just ridiculing her looks.”

Even Selma is dead now, since the great majority of so called immortals are actually quite mortal and only live to be a couple of hundred years old at the most. Sally is a little different, since both her mother and father were pure bred. But one day, still a long way down the road, it will catch up with her.

She had to say goodbye to each one, watching them fall like dominoes in time’s passage.

—–

Jeffrie’s note came under the door. Without opening it, Sally remembers how she was slipped under the door, as it were, of her own great x 2,375 niece and nephew(-in-law)’s gothic Mockingbird Lane abode by parents long in hiding themselves. Marge and General Johnston I think they’re calling each other these days. She’ll have to look them up sometime. “Uncle Sam’s kid, yeah,” she presented herself at the threshold, luggage just behind. Stooping down in the present, she picked up the note and read.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0211, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^

00270210

Spying from a safe distance, he watched her enter the library on the southern edge of Collagesity and the Fordham sim as a whole. She stayed until about 1/2 past 6, and then exited with no books checked out as far as he could tell. Tim Bean had retired from the library in ’72, about 2 years ago minus a year or three. Right now it was auto-service in there until they could get a new person. She had her pick of the books, then, but she seemed not to want any. Then he remembered *he* had the monster book, found in The Abyss temple atop unique, unicorn-like Fissure Mountain over on the old continent of Sansara. Maybe she came out with nothing because *that’s* the book she was looking for — interesting.

He could slip a note under her door at the Kidd Tower where she was staying, directly beneath the apartment of Man About Time, a kind of vice chancellor to the city and a right hand man to himself as head honcho. He’d made his peace about the resurrection through the marriage to Wendy over in the Urqhart sim or thereabouts. Man About Time would still have to bid his time to become the ruler of this here fair burg.

“Meet me at Perch (restaurant) at half past 7 in the evening after today’s tomorrow,” he decided to word it, with just the right amount of detail, he felt.

In the meantime, he was due to meet with Man About Time anyway concerning the town budget wars so he slipped in a couple of questions about the new gal. Sally was her name, MAT said. Sally Nugent. He gathered she came from a family of monsters, because the pictures he helped tote upstairs for her all had people with green or bloodless white skin, with fangs in their mouths or bolts in their necks.

Bingo.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0210, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

Newgal

“It’s moreso now don’t you think?” speaks Jeffrie Phillips to sometimes/always companion Charlene Punk Brown, perhaps the best of all his girls. She puts up with a lot at the very least. “The hair, I mean.” He points to his own hair here between bites of the spinach pizza. “Blue. Whaddaya think?”

Charlene also steals a glance, trying not to be jealous. This *could* be her replacement. Why did she arrive so mysteriously in the middle of the night, as they say, on a plane originally bound for Starfish Sea, or Starfish Lake as some call it? Jeffrey said it landed just outside the town over the sim line in Siliconicus. He said he’d been meaning to put a small landing strip over there if he could only figure out how to position the anchoring prims properly, since it’s not technically his property but instead abandoned land — a lot of that in Siliconicus, which is commonplace in the beige highlands part of the continent. She *is* cute, probably as cute as she is. She’d also look good in that pink babydoll Jeffrey keeps around, she suspected. Maybe she should dye her own hair blue.

“Are (bite) you going to answer me or not, woman?”

“Woman?” Not now she isn’t. “Listen *man*–” but then bit her tongue as Jeffrey hesitated to take another bite, waiting for a lashing, which he knew he probably deserved. Sometimes he slips into old world talk, as his daddy use to say. Poor old dad: he hadn’t thought about him in a while, nor ma-ma. They didn’t approve of his playboy ways so he had to leave the family hearth. So long long ago at this point. Seems like a different lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” he ventured, then finished his bite.

“No — me. And in answer to your question it does look a little bluer. Is — she really the woman of your dreams?” She meant *in* your dreams but she let the statement stand, too ashamed to go back and correct it. She flushed a bit, even. He stared at her, trying to figure out how to get past this awkward moment so he could finish his pizza.

—–

He couldn’t stop thinking about her as they lay in bed later, bedposts not put up yet so nowhere to hang his tie and suit. They remained fully clothed. Charlene wasn’t anxious tonight to slip into that babydoll. She was just as worried as Jeffrey was excited. “What do you think she was looking up on the interwebs over there?” he asked his likewise restless partner. “Man About Time said she was a scholar of some kind, but he didn’t know what of.”

“*I’m* a scholar,” muffled Charlene, mouth to pillow. She moved so she could more easily speak to her partner. “Perhaps you got us confused with each other. Let’s try that quiz again.”

“Okay,” he relented, knowing he may or may not pass it.

“Alright, who’s your wife? An easy one to begin.”

He knew he shouldn’t say, “you” — that never seemed to work. He remembered the roses. He remembered the checkerboard face. Or chessboard face, take your pick. “Wendy,” he said.

“Right, and where did you get married? I’ll throw that in for a new wrinkle.”

“Er… Urqhart?” He remembered a house across the road from the Illuminati place.

“Correct. And *why* did you get married… to Wendy? And, say, not *me*?”

“Because…” He couldn’t remember that part.

“Yes?” She wasn’t going to drop hints, it seems.

He simply didn’t recall that he was recently dead and had been resurrected by the power of the vows. It happened a lot when he’d just returned home.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0209, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

cowed

It was raining when he got back to Collagesity and it made his depression worse. He decided to go to Vivian Blue Hair, the new girl — or one of ’em — for advice. She was a fire scryer, using candles for the most part, like here. He asked what was foremost in his mind. “Which… one?”

Vivian could have been selfish and said she was the one, but almost immediately upon staring into the flame saw black and white patterns all around. She slips deeper into trance, closing her eyes. “I see two countries — or counties — one black and the other white, but both named Austra.”

“Austra, yes,” Phillip replies. “There’s a Lower and an Upper — everyone knows that–” Phillip stops here, understanding that Vivian Blue Hair arrived off continent just day before last week. She was a friend of… he can’t remember. Maybe Man About Time, wherever the heck he is these days. Phillip is already itching to leave his Collagesity but has nowhere left to go, he doesn’t think. Not after Wendy.

Vivian Blue Hair changed into someone else, chessboard patterns moved to the face. “A promise made, a promise lost.”

It was the cards (!), heart upside down being a spade.

Jeffrie Phillips wakes up from the rabbit hole as the lot of ’em fall to the chessboard floor in a disheveled mess, like roses. He’s received his clue.

“Charlene,” he says to the woman beside him, the usual one, but probably not *the* one. This also stirs her.

“Yes, Mr. Jeffrie Phillips, sir,” she dutifully and groggily recites, automatically reaching for his red tie hung on the bed post but then realizing it was still the middle of the night. She returns her hand to his bare chest.

“That new girl in town…”

“Right… see where *this* is going.” She yawns and looks at her nails.

“No, no, I don’t fancy her or anything.” Jeffrey Phillips definitely fancies her as he does most women, but that wasn’t the point here. “She has black hair, correct? Not blue or anything crazy like that.”

“First off, blue *isn’t* crazy. My Aunt Zelda had blue, red, and green in a row before her death in the early 80’s.”

“She lived that long, huh,” Jeffrey replied, starting to contemplate time and the colors that one can change into at the end. “But to my point…”

“In a certain light,” Charlene said in answer, “yes, it could be considered blue. But the light has to shine upon her hair in a very particular setting, I’ve noticed. Early morning or late day perhaps: hafta check.”

“So: blue.” Jeffrey decides to lay the cards on the table, this time in an orderly manner. “I dreamed about her just now.”

“I bet you did.”

“Not that kind of dream. A dream of this whole continent, which (he then realized) broke down into a series of black and white squares — *sims*.”

“Fascinating,” she deadpanned, and put on her babydoll and got up to get some water. “Want anything to drink or eat while I’m in the kitchen?” He watched her move away from him in a satisfying manner. Nice to have compensation when he returned home. Charlene is a swell mate as well as lover. He’ll keep her around for sure; a short leash. Strange way to think about it, he realized. I don’t *own* her. Or maybe… maybe I do in a way. I pay her bills, I give her a place to stay here at the Blue Feather (building). She was rummaging around the kitchen now. “Are you going to answer me?” she called, hoping he could hear her over the static this time. “I’ll get you something anyway.” More noises, and then about 5 minutes later she returned with some milk and a plate of choco chip cookies. She lay down beside him, put the plate on his partially bare belly, and picked up the top one for herself, studying it. “Cow chips, they’re called. Saw them advertised on TV. Big beaver holds one up in his paws.” She extends her arms here and holds the cookie between them like a small steering wheel toward the static filled TV on a table just beyond the bed. “Like this.” In the snow, she imagined the big beaver mirroring this back to her.

He studies her, then he follows her arms to the cookie, realizing what this meant. “That’s disgusting.” He picks one up himself using just the one arm. Oversized and heavy on choco chunks, he sees, but otherwise just an ordinary cookie.

—–

In another dream that night, the cookie Charlene holds expands and turns into a whirling vortex, sucking up everything in the room including his milk. “And so on the 5th day…” he heard her say beside him as they fell and fell, blobs of white and chunks of brown all around. The rabbit hole seemed endless this time.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0208, GTA, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^