Tag Archives: Jim Wells^*~~~~~~~%

white on black

I just *love* this music, Swanky. She’s my brother, you know.”

“Indian?” he asked.

“But American. Not Asian,” she clarified. She didn’t think. Point is, she was home, listening to her old music on her old phonograph player. All the Wells: well well well. That was an old joke she shared with Patty Spearmint, her bestie since grade school going on high school. Schneider would enjoy it too. If he were alive to hear it. All the Wells were musical, geniuses even. Rosie decided to part ways with the rest and become a scientist. Now she worked on the Crabwoo Revitalization Project or whatever the heck they’re calling it these days. Blue Feather Redevelopment Initiative — something. And she had that single eye which was different too.

They tried burying it in the front yard that day, but it just popped right back up. They had to accept her as a sister, albeit different.


Rosie at work, realizing she should have bought a telescope instead of a microscope for future research.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0029, 0304, Bellisaria, Blue Feather Sea^, Continent 02, Maebaleia/Satori

00280211

“I can’t see the castle on this peak either, Shelley.”

“Silly. There *is* no castle on that peak. Not any more. Not for a long time. The reason you couldn’t see it on the other peak we just looked at is because your draw distance was too short. Don’t you know *anything* about Our Second Lyfe, tee hee?”

“Suppose not.”

“That’s where Ruuster’s castle use to be, though. Some say he was an actual rooster, a creature. Some say he was called that because he *roosted* on the peak, like some kind of bird, rooster or no. My papa taught me that. Said sometimes there’re multiple ways of looking at the same thing and sometimes none is right but at the same time *all* are right. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“Suppose,” he repeated. Shelley started wondering about his brain, and maybe she didn’t finish the boy properly — left holes where thoughts should be, rationalization. “You say… we’re suppose to get married.”

“Um huh.” He was still staring at the empty beige peak, perhaps 50 meters higher than the one they are on. He was staring at himself.

“Can you elaborate? I mean, it’s rather shocking that you know that.”

“I can see the future.” He turns. “You can see the future. We are all angles.”

“Angels?” She purposely misheard him but he didn’t laugh, didn’t get the joke or just didn’t care. Maybe both are right, she realized: angles *and* angels. Are *they* angels?

George turned back to the beige mountain seen through the diamond paned window. “Roost never sleeps. It’s an ironic name, then, because that’s what birds or roosters or whatever are suppose to do when they roost. Sleep.”

Maybe his brain is alright after all. Those are pretty deep thoughts he’s thinking there, she thought, pondering the irony herself. Her daddy had said the same thing. Roost never sleeps, corrupted to rust never sleeps.

George looked down from the peak to the green grounds below. “Well well well, if it isn’t the Wells.” Why did the boy say *that*? Is someone actually approaching? Or was this just more word play?

“They’re trying to find the front door,” he then said. “Better go down and help them”

“The… neighbors?” she guessed. He just stared at her again and then extended his arm. “After you.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0211, Nautilus, NORTH, Rooster's Peninsula

00280201

Ripped Windmill Man, as they called him, was assigned the role of night guard for Ruby the green grey Alien, currently holed up down at the fire station for further protection from those darn psychic kids. Half policeman half army man, he was more than equipped to fulfill the duty — overqualified, Ben Bolt said, eager to get the job as well to support his own troupe of kids, 2 psychic and 1 mundane from an early marriage (the former Mary Bolt, now married to Alfred Reynolds the shoe cobbler). His ripped body wouldn’t fit through some of the doors there, he argued. His half policeman half army man training made him all bastard, he tried. Jim Wells, father of Alice Wells who Ben was also trying to woo along with the job, would have none of it. “Windmill’s a fine man. He has 3 ripped bodies that he can strip like a snake or lizard or something if needed to fit through any door.  It’s *just* a night guard job, Ben,” he said to a potential son-in-law he didn’t want. “Maybe you should aim a little higher, hmm? How about — manager of the day care; help keep an eye on those psychic toddlers, make sure they don’t get into trouble *too* early.” Because Jim Wells knew it would come to trouble later on as they aged a bit, spontaneous fires being only one potential hazard. “The firemen, the policemen, heck the *army* men can’t do anything about them once they reach a certain age, some say 5, others: 7. Jim Wells realized he was making a case for ripped Windmill Man to take the day care managerial job instead of Ben Bolt and stopped. His future son-in-law — if it came to that — would *not* be a night guard at the fire station, no way Jose.

Ripped Windmill Man stripped his 2 outer ripped bodies so he could fit comfortably through the door and look in on Ruby. “Everything all right in here?” he asked, checking the corners of the fire station’s storage room again for bugs. He was sensing something but didn’t know what.

“Tell him everything is okay,” commanded unseen Billie Jean Kidd from the side. Turns out Ruby had already been compromised and the firemen, the policemen, the army men couldn’t do a darn thing about it.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0201, Paper Soap, Soap