“You don’t even know who I am. You *can’t* stay here forever.”
“I know, I know.” He looked out across the field of flowers — ‘nother one.
“We could dance before you go. I can do that for you. One last dance.”
“That’s not my name,” she interrupted. “You know my name.”
“June, yes,” he offered. “Like the month.”
“A particular June as well. This June.”
“Alright, alright.” Perhaps this wasn’t Paradise after all. Like she said, he must return. No short way to the center for certain.
Plain Jane Phyllis
Klondike Phox suddenly found herself not with the widows. In Plain Jane (sim) she was now, in the middle of some kind of pandemic, she sensed, disinfectors all around. The present, in other words. The nearest one spoke to her, holding out his hands. “Now, now, I’ll handle this.” Phyllis moves forward toward him…
… only to find herself somewhere else once more: in a boat with a blanket on a cool summer day, freshly baited rod in front of her.
On a coffee break in a nearby gardening shed, not-so-plain June Bug sensed the manifestation happen. “Another Plain Jane,” she groused, looking up at it. “Nancy Kulp should have never opened that can of worms in front of Jed.”
The sim changes the man in this case. Or makes a boy into a man, as it were.
And not being 13 certainly had its advantages.
“I wonder what’s behind the starred man on the striped couch?” asks Hucka Doobie about the most recently hung Bodega Gallery collage, killing some time while waiting for The Table meeting to start over at the Blue Feather.
From behind, thought-to-be friend Tammy Whatammy then pushes the bee person *into this collage*…
Roger Pine Ridge kept looking at the flickering white glow beneath the water that he knew was Anton. Shoes stolen; mission accomplished. Like finding the ruby slippers of Oz, he thought. Anorexia’s gonna be pissed off as hell.
He looked over at the green robed woman beside him, face harshly illuminated by the glare of the flashlight she held. Scars. “I’m just waiting for the significant other to finish up inside,” he explained from his chair. “How about you?”
Cyberpaperdoll walks out of Fae’s Boat House with 50,000 lindens in hand.
“Come on, Biker,” she said just above a whisper toward the closest Pine Ridge chair. “Time to go.”
“Don’t forgot to sign the guestbook out there!” Jim the Pirate Bartender called from within, a request they most definitely ignored while leaving.
Yvonne — not there.
Doflia (formerly Doreena): check.
“I’m just waiting for the significant other to finish up inside,” spoke Roger Pine Ridge from his *self named* chair. “How about you?”
But metallic green robed Junbug said nothing and kept reading her book of spooky stories. There were codes inside.
“I’m glad the Floyd Man is gone, Owlshead, because my book is now not full of glitches.”
“Do you have *any* clothes around here that’ll fit me?” the small green being now seated opposite her replied, “because I’m f-ing cold as old mold, *shiver*.”
“Okay,” Junbug relented. “Hop on back up and let’s go see how Anton is holding out. This was just a test anyway.”
“I’m thinking of changing my name again to Kelp, Sidechick… Anton. Whaddaya guys think?”