“I’m not sure why I had to spend the night with *Splinter*,” groused Rebl about her acomodations at the Southwest Castle last night. “But — here I am. All grounded and shite. Ready for action.”
“Good, good,” cooed Tronesisia to the visiting Bena lawyer. She could tell by the fire that this was a hot spot, a balance of black and white and red all over. She looked over at the eyes…
… and assimilated.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0102, Corsica, Splinterwood^
She had come to see the band but they were away. Well, Jim A. was *permanently* away, replaced by this mysterious Jim B. who was 20 years younger. And what about herself? Also 20 years displaced. It was 20 years ago today (etc.).
The Band; a make-believe one inside a real one. But the make-believe one had come to overshadow the real, like a Virtual Reality within Reality Reality begins to take over and work its powers outside in as well as inside out. Glove.
Satan.
“Hell-o hell-o hell-o.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0505, Maebaleia/Satori, Pipersville/Sink X^
“This Lena Horned is good, admittedly.” Older Keith B. looks over at the singer currently crooning “The Ballad of Stormy Daniel.” He then leans closer to Kate McCoy sitting beside him. “But she’s not as good as my little girl.”
A noncommittal Kate turns toward the dance floor. “Well… Zach and The Mann seem to be enjoying it enough.”
“And The Dogg too,” Keith B. laughingly adds.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0503, Maebaleia/Satori, Pipersville/Sink X^
The Rhode Gallery is no more in the Omega continent’s Meat City
Former Fenfarg neighbors (w/ “swastika windows”)
But, across the *road*…
… the sim of Rhodenwald certainly still is, thank God.
“I know who you are.”
“I wish they wouldn’t emphasize that rocket so much here. Makes me cold inside, brrr.”
“Well,” jested older Keith B. a bit. “It was a big deal in the days. Put Golden City on the map.”
“Put it *on* the map by taking it *off*, brrr. Nothing left but a big hole.” She glances sideways at The Man, who was scanning pictures on the wall at the back of the stage, focusing on one in particular. “Speaking of which… he needs to get back over here and finish his story.”
“True,” agreed Keith B. “He can’t just leave us hanging in mid air about that whale.”
“Hey!” Kate McCoy called over to The Man. “We gotta keep moving down the road, to the fork. Else…”
“I know,” The Man replied in his cool, bass voice while still studying, still looking. “All of this will be in vain. But I believe — this man — is wearing — lipstick.” He touches Jimmy’s gray lips with his finger, as if he could swipe them and then check for color.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0117, Golden Sink^, Maebaleia/Satori
“The white whale escaped, of course. The famous Moby Prick of the Deep South. But the blue whale didn’t fare as well. Caught in the Blue Feather Sea. Some say she *became* the sea, one equals the other. Do you understand, older Keith B.?”
“Absolutely not, Kate McCoy.”
“Good to admit, thank you. The cube is the sphere is the sea is the whale.”
“Maybe we just better unfreeze or unthaw The Man and go. Let him explain it all. After all: he was there.”
“Indeed. Let’s go get him.” They enter the “aquarium”. Dog joined them there.
—–
“The cube is the sphere is the sea is the whale,” Kate McCoy pronounces clearly in the direction of The Man. He begins to stir inside his plastic cocoon.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0116, Burning Life^^
“Not too bad for seconds, Hatfield, but also: not good enough. 3.3 seconds. You needed 10.”
“Eek, my spine,” he managed in-between groans.
“Next! Announce yourself first before mounting the Wild Whale.”
“Um, TV. Colored TV.”
“Do you, Mr. TV, understand the challenge facing you? The Wild Whale giveth, the Wild Whale taketh. All Hail the Wild White Whale.”
“All Hail the Wild White Whale,” everyone within earshot repeated, and even Hatfield managed a weak, out-of-breath, “All Hail… White Whale,” before his stretcher arrived.
—–
“11.5, Colored,” proclaimed Baker Bloch. “Most excellent — 3rd best time yet. You can join the winners over in the The White Whale Lounge.”
“Thank you, sir (*eek*). Thank you (*groan*) kindly.”
Colored TV joining the “winners” after being checked out and cleared by the medical staff.
“Next!”
“Hi Male Baker. Do you know my wings are called Dali.”
“Mount the whale, sir,” rushed Baker Bloch, knowing he already had a winning TV character and not desiring random chatter from this *inferior* product, then. “The Wild Whale giveth, the Wild Whale taketh. All Hail the Wild White Whale.”
“All Hail the Wild White Whale,” everyone within earshot repeated. It was over in 2.
Iggy later gave his broken TV head back to Grey Scale Kimball. “A lot of good it did for me,” making GSK nod in agreement.
“Let’s see how far it can roll into the sink.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0108, Golden Sink^, Maebaleia/Satori
“Unlike with the chickens just outside, my creator plays fair instead of fowl. Fairmount fair.”
“As opposed to Fowlerton fowl, I get it.” Even though they might be considered rivals, Grown Up Kate McCoy, another avatar auditioning for a part in our newly blossoming Collagesity novel, was truly amused by this big orange cat she currently shared the Red Devil “Hot Spot” Sofa with, not feeling the least bit competitive with him. Didn’t hurt that he hates dogs too. We can both enter the game, she muses, perhaps as a team. Another Dynamic Duo. The Fair Party. Down with Fowl, so on. Could be a nice angle.
“You know they’re from the same hometown, Jimmy and my creator,” the large feline continues. But male as hell.
“I didn’t know that,” she replies, hand cupped under chin in a rapt listening position. “Do tell more.”
—–
“Hatfield!” Baker Bloch shouts from beside the missile across the room, so fiery upon its return. “You’re up.” He points up.
“Looks like my turn on The Moon.” The orange cat prepares to rise from the red sofa.
“Break a leg up there,” Kate encouraged before he left her side. “And put in a good word for me. Fair words instead of fowl, ha.”
He pats her diminutive hand with his giant paw. “I will.” He saw where this was going too. A team — a ticket, even. Like Jim A. Garfield and Chester A. Arthur before them. Question is: which is which? He’d have to be top dog no doubt, then pardoned himself for the expression.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0105, Golden Sink^, Maebaleia/Satori
“Kate,” requested her mother. “What do you see now?”
*Katy* listened to the patterns in her ears. “War, of course,” she answered shortly, then paused, hands on headphones.
“Do you see a Jellyfish? Or a Mermaid?” optioned Tracy.
“Umm. Both!”
“Explain.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0014, 0409, Blue Feather Sea^, Maebaleia/Satori
“Come on, Preston Weston. It’s time to go into town.”
“Aww, Maww. Do I have to? I always get burrs on me passing through that small forest on the the way, heh.”
“Now, now. That cute, little Felicia Mae Appletree might be at the laundromat, hmmm?”
And her *mother*, Preston thinks. Saturdays are *so* cool. He resets his zapper gun to smooch mode. “Okay. You talked me into it.”
—–
“Almost there, Preston,” Your Mama encourages.
“Jeez! Dang burrs.”
—–
I’m just going to pass that place by, Your Mama thinks when stepping onto Brown Street, named for 1/2 of the famed Brown-Bower team of Sinkologists. What put Pipersville on the map!
And those too.
“Jeez, Ma. Walk on the sidewalk will ya.” But she didn’t want to get too close to any of those doors over there. Too tempting…
—–
“What happened to the laundromat?” Your Mama asked aloud.
“Creepers Ma, I-I don’t know.”
She throws her sack of clothes down in the middle of the road in disgust. “And no water in the sinkhole (as a backup). Damn sinkhole.”
“Maa!” Preston protests, knowing you’re not suppose to cuss that sacred cow ’round these here parts. He scans the area to see if anyone overheard the faux pas. Your Mama cusses again. And again, beginning to stomp on the sack of soiled clothes with all her might. “STINKING SINK HOOOOLLLE!” she hollars in crescendo, then collapses beside the battered sack, crying. Preston goes over and tries to comfort in his own, special way. “Aww maa. Not the tears again. Did, heh, I ever tell you how Antarctica became frozen?”
“Preston, dear, please. Not now.” Not ever, she thought. Because she’d made up her mind. She was leaving.
—–
Spiky-headed Craighead Phillips shut the book. “And that’s how Preston Weston got lost in his dreams, Katy. No tether to reality any longer. The End.”
Tracy Austin (Clown) weighed in. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate book for a child, dear.”
“I disagree,” gruffed Phillips in his whiney voice. “It’s got kids written all over it.”
“One kid.”
“Yeah, Dad,” offered Katy, wise beyond her years (but, after all, not a kid at the core). “Couldn’t you, I don’t know, chip in or something? He was *your* son after all.”
“Yes,” spoke Tracy again. “I agree. One of your Options should have been chipping in.”
Phillips sighed, realizing he’d have to go back in time again and switch things around. Damn sinkhole.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0014, 0313, Maebaleia/Satori, Pipersville/Sink X^, White Horse Village^
Sunklands 