Tag Archives: Lichen Roosevelt^^+

February 6, 2021 · 9:28 am

golden one

“It could have happened in King Post at Wendy’s new place, although that would be quite a long way off. Or maybe King’s Stone, since the name location is closer. Or (its neighbor) Druid’s Post I suppose. Hucka?”

Cackling from the witches. Baker had forgotten Hucka Doobie went to the White Palace in the skies about, I don’t know, over a single photo-novel’s length ago by now I would guess without checking. “Come with us, Baker B.,” they beckoned. “Come with us to our photo shoot. Kita!” He didn’t have much choice. That would set him back several more hours in his search for the origin of the explosion, but, as a bonus, they indicated the precise location when finished. Not Kita: Kitaro. So close to the Urban Ice Cream Parlor — just missed. Elvis Kannelvis’ coordinates were just a little off. He did better with sports in school than maths. Plus he had indicated the wrong McMillan: there were several in the area as it turned out, although all unrelated to each other. Just like the Urbans. A strange place.

Speaking of which…

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January 22, 2021 · 10:32 pm

00240412

Those black, white (yellow) and red ladies said I didn’t have to stay here that long and that’s probably a good thing. A little too grown up here, in that things are too *big* for me… like this chair. Can hardly see over the edge of the table!

But those flowers are nice in front of me, although they make me do weird things when “touched,” like touch my toes — touch for touch. Maybe I don’t want to touch my toes, I say back. And then they quickly relent — they always do — returning me to my sitting position in the chair. Strange also that they don’t have a vase.

And certainly the *butterflies* all around are a perk-me-up in these dark dark times. I lost Carolin! I lost Mabel and now I’ve lost my next best friend, the one that remained behind and helped me through the first dark times. Robert! she remembered. I totally forgot about Mabel’s lime green robot stored away after her — not *demise*: disappearance. Carolin said he would be too hard to take care of now that Mabel is gone, thus the dismantling, the storage. But, oh Robert, I *do* need you now. You were the third best friend, after second, Carolin, and first, Mabel. But do I want to put you in the same jeopardy that they, unbeknownst to me, were in — just by association? How hard would it be to put him back together? Carolin said: near impossible, when she brought it up every now and then, especially when she remembered the most times small sometimes not as small difference between a second best friend (Carolin) and a first (Mabel). Third could help fill the gap and more. Why *not* try now — what’s to lose (except a 3rd best friend)? So when the black, white (yellow) and red ladies come back I’ll tell them. Maybe they can help with the reactivation, come to think of it. They do seem to feel genuinely sorry for my plight — kicked out of Green Yarn, a thought of *new* home, and then turning into a wanderer again, first at the End of Time caves like before, and then — kicked out again. The black, white (yellow) and red swooped down in their spaceship: set down the cow they had in their tractor beam and latched onto me instead; brought me up in their ship. I wasn’t scared, strangely, like I was use to it. I had nothing to lose. They offered me — hope.

Thus the stay in the treehouse. “You’ll be safe here — for a time,” they collectively said before whisking away back into space.

(to be continued)

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January 21, 2021 · 7:54 am

unjarred

I decided to have tea with another while I was there, perhaps the brains of the operation. One Fern Stalin, not a redhead perhaps surprisingly but still eating at commissary kitchens with the commoners. I ask her about the operation.

“We created it all,” she was explaining. “This art town — we’ve taking over the whole island, actually. And we’ve just plain taken over, period. Your rule is at an end. You should have invested in the Toddles storyline more, gone all 200 meters worth on it.” Brains indeed.

“Toddles could come back.”

“Hmph,” she expressed and turned her head to the left, to the sea. “That island over there is as much toast as your wee yellow one. She’s stuck in the pavement, under the street actually. She has no more power.” She ends with finality.

“New Island?” I questioned,  seeing the direction she indicated. I tried to decipher the meaning to this clue. Photo-novel 9 was all about New Island, but we move away from it in novel 10 to the present one, across that bridge just over there, the New Island bridge. But this was Fisher’s Island. *They* have taken over Fisher’s Island. What did this mean? A return to the Omega continent? I as Baker Bloch wasn’t sure this was a good idea. We had kind of wrapped all that up in novel 10, especially as extended to novel 11. Omega continent: covered.

“We move you where we desire.” Witch power she was on about again. I recall that a witch lived on New Island, and probably still does. The same or connected? I ask her this. She got up and ran across the bridge we just spoke about at an impossible speed for a normal person. The she ran back — the path was smoking where she sprinted so fast she was going. “Forgot my lipstick,” she offered as an excuse for leaving, then applied it to her lips. But then it became a piece of straw as she changed into the next (Lichen Roosevelt). We had a nice discussion as well but it was more oriented to comedy instead of gravity.

“And that’s why the French don’t wash,” she ended what I later understood was part of her monologue.

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January 16, 2021 · 11:15 am

gentlemen’s preference

“So you see, Hucka D. The 3 cars closest to the portal represent the alchemical witches I just met over at your gym, with the 4th missing, just like the Citrinitas stage is often left out of the alchemical process.”

“That’s *us*,” uttered the witches in unison. “*We’re* the cars,” and then they cackled like a pack of hyenas. Flushing Baker Bloch, a skunk with a rash as far as they were concerned,  had forgotten who he was speaking to. Certainly not Hucka D. “*Hardly*,” as each of them would say in turn, I’m sure.

But what of the 4th? The 4th could save them all. If she could figure a way into the X-ed out square. Picturetown. Those clever, evil witches!

Earlier (2009):

“*Here* Mr. Archer,” she said, seeing one of the witch’s cars at last. “A temporal opening I can finally wedge through. You’ll have to stay behind, pull me out by the rope if needed.”

“Just like Niagara,” Peet said under his breath, looking down at her sweet, wee yellow head.

“I’ll warn you. I’ll be much heavier when I return since it will be 11 years later; you’ll have to hold tight.”

He estimates his 200 meters of 3/16 inch braided nylon beside him should do the trick just fine.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0024, 0311, Canada, Canada/Picturetown, Google Street View

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January 15, 2021 · 12:09 pm

alchemical witches

Baker Bloch approached the clipboard on the white desk against the white wall. Whitewashed it was. He should have done this weeks ago, months: join the gym at Hucka D.’s White Palace in disguise, er, the skies. But where’s the List?

“Baker! Over here!” Fern Stalin calls excitedly from the Links, eager to get to know Hucka D.’s friend better. Former friend? That’s what she wanted to find out, why they set all this up in the first place. The White Palace. Baker found it!

“Who’s that over there?” he returns, peering through the machines and equipment. “Hucka?”

“*Hardly*.”

Wendy Wheeler enters through a portal in the corner. Lichen Roosevelt soon joins them too. The black, white (yellow) and red altogether again. Just like a newspaper, ready to be read. True yellow was not invited, which would have consequences later.

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December 16, 2020 · 8:03 am

00230505

“A whale can be a thing.”

“A whale can be a *ghost*.”

“Ghost thing!”

—–

So many wanted to get through. Well: seven. I had to control them all, give them *say*, but not overwhelm (me). I wondered where the 7th, the I, was again. I hadn’t thought about it before the meeting much. Put it out of my mind for real, as I *tried* with the 6th. There is no Sunday in week: that sort of thing.

We had to get Carrcassonnee back up and running or Sepisexton would have her run of the place, the 7 and the 6 at once, hiding behind each other, taking turns facing the world. But maybe that’s they way it is suppose to be. In these here photo-novels, 23 in a series of 20.

Olive… Sepisexton. That was a long time ago. What’s black and white or yellow and read all over. Triangle of witches — always works that way. They swallow each other whole again and again until they all blend together, like butter. Better get those flapjacks ready because it’s suppertime. I should go on a walk.

Olive Oylstick gets up, deciding who to take with her. She must get back to Bellisaria soon. Landing on Bellissima, like with all the others present, was a mistake, a variant attractor (or something; I’m not a maths person). The Bellisarian squirrel walked into the Magick Shoppe and I knew what had to be done. It was both a heaven and a hell: an endpoint all the same. Our Second Lyfe ended here, or became First Life I suppose if it is the hell aspect. The whale sings. The Light of Aurelia shines over all.

“We’ve reached a limit, Wendy,” spoke Sandy Beech on that Hammerhead Light dock across the bay from the Shining thing. “The Twins commanded the dress, but if the dress doesn’t fit…”

“It doesn’t,” reinforced Wendy Wilson by his side, who we know now is part of the Breezy archetype.

He turns away from the light and toward her, the dark passenger. “Will you go back to ‘Burger Wars’, then? That simple is it?”

“It’s never that simple.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0023, 0505, Ashton Village, Bellisaria, HANA LEI, Pickle 02

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December 13, 2020 · 7:38 am

Hideaway 02

“Thank Gods that shaking is finally over,” Charlene the Punk declared to Harrison Ford Jett, still with those apples. “Getting on my nerves sooooooo bad, arrgh.”

“The sim below Brodovima we’re in presently,” Harrison recites mechanically. “And an expression commonly used in the famous Peanuts comic strip.”

“Arrgh,” she exclaims again to something different now. “No it’s not. That was ‘aaugh’. I should know.”

“Right. Being Charles’ brother.”

“I’m technically still a Brown. Jeffrie and I aren’t married yet. We may not even be engaged — hafta check. But *you* — you’re different sir, different indeed. She looks at his face, and then down at the apples again still in place in the blouse-shirt. “You’re…”

“Don’t say it.” He looks at her own blouse. He’s guessed what he is. It changes.

Charlene drinks alone now. Maybe she should wander up to the bar and talk to The Mann, also drinking alone. Might be worth a try.

And this is how Fern met fellow shapeshifter Lichen, with Wendy still in the future.

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December 13, 2020 · 7:37 am

Hideaway 01

“So since Ally’s here now you can get off a little early, right?” on and off girlfriend Sep says to off and on boyfriend Seb. Sebby Cromac, who really lightened up the place when he was hired several months back. He also has a Rosehaven connection which procured him the job in the first place. More on that soon.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “Ms. Orange is still learning the drinks.” He lowers his voice now; Ally probably couldn’t hear them anyway since she’s shaking the tumbler so hard in mixing that martini for a customer soon to show up. Let’s say he or she’s in the bathroom right this moment. “She doesn’t know as much as I’d hoped with all that experience on her resume,” he continues after leaning in. “Look how long she’s been mixing that drink; and it’s a *martini*,” and with this he points behind his hand toward cheese colored Ally, who doesn’t look atall like what’s in the picture above to either Sep or Seb. In fact, he or she looks different to anyone involved. Oh, here comes the customer. Ally finally stops shaking, pours the drink.

—–

“What do you think?” she asks The Mann, who decides to call himself James for this scene. Fresh from humpback whale watching on the eastern shore of Pickle 02, he explained earlier while placing his order with the pretty, petite blonde. “Interesting,” he presently offers as graciously as possible after sipping, trying not to wince. He decides not to sip again for a while. He is a connoisseur of the liquors and knows an improperly made drink when he drinks it. Maybe he should have given more specifics on its concoction. He makes a mental note to do that at the next bar at the next island in his sea of travels.

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December 9, 2020 · 7:37 am

Dewey 01

Okay so they were the same avatar at the core: Wheeler Wilson. This black haired Fern Stalin, this yellow or blonde haired Lichen Roosevelt, the ditzy one — the “Yellow Kid” — and then the red dooed Wendy, closer to Wheeler than any of the others in the moment because she was being read. It was a newspaper situation, then, black and white — well, yellow — and then the thing being scrutinized, the alien, the intruder onto their lands. One Wendy Wilson from Arkansaw, Kansas, they determined. Yellow journalism all around, because this was not as advertised. They made it into a way bigger deal than what it was, or at least Lichen did.

“Tell me more about this nephew Stumpy,” requested Fern later at the interrogation, 3rd of the day (Friday) and 15 minutes after she ate her last supper (chicken). She was ready to end it all. She hadn’t talked but she knew they would break her down. Pain wasn’t her ace in the hole. Instead: pleasure; hole in one. If the year 1898 gave us the first silent Oz movie (Star Wars Negative 10), then 1948 ended it all. “Tell me about TILE, about how you came about getting *here*. We’ve been here for almost 10 years. Why *now*?”

The pills manifested in her mouth, 1/2 red and 1/2 blue. Purple, then: dare she go through with it? Her sentence was almost over. And so on the 5th day (swallow) she…

—–

“We were so close, Lichen,” expressed Fern afterwards, staring at the bovine remains. “This explains a lot. I’m ready to start studying that manifesto with you in earnest. Let’s go to this Stumpy’s next meeting; tell him about his loss and what we saw.”

“As much as we can.”

“Right. And get Herbert to clean up all this mess.”

“Yes ma’am.”

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December 9, 2020 · 7:37 am

00230315

Carrcassonnee looked over at the spot she had just been. Sepisexton she was now, both the 7 and the 6. It was time to move on from the great olive being and the great olive body. It just wasn’t working. Not right now anyway. Syd was a way out. And TILE.

She walks away from the new spot into the future.

—–

“Hey Roosevelt. Remember when we use to be black and yellow clowns over in NWES City? Funny times. That’s where you started your stand up comedy isn’t it.”

“No.”

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