Tag Archives: LIMB

peppery

“Hey loverboy,” she said, spying him spying through the limbs at the limbs. “Tree’s over *here*.” Marty moves his eyes from what Lichen called her sister to the now Santa-less tree. “Now all we have to do is change the lights out and we’re done, Christmas Tree to Winter Tree completed.” Marty kept thinking about the sisters, one black haired, one blonde, the one that less interests him strangely enough now his hair had been dyed. Ditsy was her name, she said. Didn’t sound like a real name to him, didn’t ring true. Yet they just showed up and got down on the floor and started talking to each other, giggling, whispering. The other one’s name was Zizzy; just as improbable. They said they were twins.

“Now you’re just looking in the air at something,” she said, still spying. “Come over here and help me take the colored lights off and put the white lights on. Say goodbye to Christmas.”

It was Valentine’s Day and indeed the traditional end of the X-mas season, just like Halloween was the beginning. It now stretched to almost a third of the year, Labor Day and St. Patrick’s Day soon to be threatened at each end if he was reading the signs correctly, which said “Happy Holidays” reduced to one. It was like the Nazis. It was like Attila the Hun. Soon it might be just Christmas and its polar opposite, 4th of Juli, standing. And then…

“*Dearest*,” she said more sharply. “Over here. *Now*.”

——

Soon they would reach the star at the top and have an important decision to make.

Niece Amanda kept carrying around her new uncle’s crappy Valentine’s bear present around, contemplating pushing him into the tree from this angle and ending the ruse. Might be what tips the balance in her favor, she thinks, sensing the building tension between the two. Zizzy, pheh. It was always going to be something new.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0509, Nautilus, Upper Austra^

5 cats

Prick grew up after the disappointment of losing the balloon and his childhood sweetheart along with it (Pip). Took to playing the violin; joined a band of sorts. But beamy yellow sunshine always remained hidden in starless darke. He was not a happy man. Here he bows a dirge to fallen children everywhere — one of his compositions for the group.

Don, Joe and Alex put up with the pain and sorrow, which they liked to mask themselves with drugs and women and expensive, gaudy clothes. Colorful, they were in a word. Sgt. Pepper-ish. Not Prick. Just pepper would do for him, as in sneezy and black.

They played the last sad chord of the piece.

“Okay,” offered Cheery Don, who was kind of the leader. “Let’s try something more uplifting now.”

One of *yours* obviously, Prick thought pungently, but instead it was green boy Jolly Joe’s turn. Ambiguous Alex, who was closer to Prick’s spirit as well as his body here, glanced over, wondering if he’d even lift up his arm to his fiddle for this one. Someday, he knew, the limb would not rise but remain by the side. Then it would be done. All this was written or foreshadowed or prerecorded back in childhood.

Then the group as a whole could move on to Frenzied Fred. The Purple Bunch they would become in this most likely of probable realities, archaic instruments set aside forever.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0027, 0403, Nautilus, NORTH, Slaashsides

prick

“What happened to you? Tell me *every-thing.*”

“There was this other man. Todd. Lured me into a trap. Triangles.”

“Triangles?”

“Irresolved, he said. Called me in to help.”

“Mushrooms?” she picked up. “Should have let him down. Slow and eassy.”

“Yeah, I know that *now*.”

“Right. Okay. Continue.”

“A dreaming boy. 5 cats out on a limb. The boy dreams the cats, the limb. It is he. They are waiting for the one who chops the limb off. Fallen.”

Uninjured Wonderlady sits back. “How is High Fidelity doing anyway?”

With this they enter the sphere (*POP*).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0027, 0402, Illinois, Nautilus, NORTH, Slaashsides

Mistery Island 02

Through the tree limbs, he watches Sammy glide away across the sea, back to the Northern Ocean whence he came. A Messenger Featherfloater, he pondered, another one of *his* creations. Like this Mistery Island. Like Original Fern, Substitute Fern be damned. And now he was off too, following Sammy in a green lantern boat, another of his design. Spore certainly was the evil minded inventor. But Icarus the golden robot rocket might have been his greatest feat. The rocket that would propel mankind to Mars. If he actually *wanted* it to, ho ho.

“Jacky Jack,” he declared to his right hand rabbit to his right. “I’m going to the other side of the island for a while. Make sure you clean and scrub the houses and reset the lanterns before I return nightfall.”  Jacky nodded in silence. Jacky had learned not to speak up unless demanded. The less information Spore has to work on the better, since he uses such for evil and not for good. The little rabbits can’t go to college because you’re short on cash? Spore will find ways to withhold even more money from your check. One, several or all of his brood could become future servants, the intrepid ruler thinks. If the family is destitute enough, he he.


Billyboat Bay

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0025, 0212, Maebaleia/Satori, Outer Islands

transformed

Celebrations for Carrcassonnee’s 420th birthday will continue throughout the month I’m assuming. Happy Birthday Oh Great Green One!

Just later we found out that Carrcassonnee herself decided to become the sign, just to switch it out for a while. Her various olive limbs were separated out and tightened or rolled up a bit to become arranged as the numbers — 6 prims both, then. Only the 7th, her *eye*, remains within the Temple of TILE. Until the end of the month that is. Or thereabouts. Everything seems to be “or thereabouts” in this here Urqhart location for Collagesity (or thereabouts).

We must move on from Carrcassonnee for a while until her various limbs are taken back apart, loosened or rolled out a bit, and rearranged into the shape we are all familiar with and placed in the Temple at its regular 3rd floor spot beside Frank. We forget to mention Frank in the last blog entry! Perhaps he will even take over as town deity during Carrcassonnee’s brief absence in this post.

Frank and The Eye.

Frank and The Eye? Just temporary if so. Right Frank? Frank?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0020, 0304, Corsica, Urqhart^

another linden wood

You look astonished. Is it possible you have never heard of the ominous Lime-Tree, and the Fatal Bough? Why, ’tis a common tale hereabouts, and has been for centuries. Any old crone would tell it you.

After passing through a Green Cypress Tree tree near the top of a grassy knoll, The Monk entered the southeast corner of Rookwood proper. None of the other sims mattered now. He could focused in on the task of finding Phillip’s grave…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0020, 0218, Corsica, Linden Memorial Park^

another

Summerhill Nova’s other job besides running the Bemberg sim in its entirety was preaching to the congregation who congregated at Church of the Elmers in Melder in its entirety each Sundae. Unlike with the Main Church of Cheese, usually a packed crowd for this one, and no exception this day. They began by honoring a fellow parishioner who had been killed in the recent, new troubles down in, “Bena or Bennington or whatever they call the miserable village these days,” white Summerhill lectured from her white pulpit in her big white church to a host of white people dressed in black. She knew harping on the evils of their degenerative sister sim to the south was a certain crowd pleaser. Then she started talking about Ben Wolf.

“I know many of you’n’s frowned when we accepted Ben into our congregation. You said he smelled weird, especially around the full moon. You said he howled when he went to the bathroom. You complained — silently mainly — when we found out his wife the Irish Lass (Summerhill couldn’t remember her name right off either) was also a beast underneath it all, a fox in her case. Yet he heard the calling of the Lord (Summerhill stops here, as if hearing my voice as well), and came to us for guidance, for shelter from the harsh world he saw around him, trying to tear his very limbs apart, pull his very head out of his body and parade it around for all to see and mock. Yes, this Ben, this *Wolf*, was just as much a *man* as any of you lot here.” She pointed around the congregation for emphasis, singling out various men. “And what else has he done for the church you might ask? Well, we set him to tasks — menial tasks but after all he was grateful just to be here. I think each and every one of you will agree that the 17 bathrooms spread out in our various churches across the compound look spotless now; he will be hard to replace for sure in that area.” Agreements and nods across the congregation here. “And what of tree trimmings, and the squirrel bombings, and so many more tasks we set for him that he accomplished with great joy, great glee, great triumph. No, this *man*… will be sorely missed around these here parts.”

“And now — a word from the widow, an exile from Bena or Bennington…” she stops here and covers the mike with her hand, calling over to Phyllis Phox sitting in one of the nearby lawn chairs positioned below the main congregation. “What’s the name, dear?”

“Phyllis,” came Phyllis’ answer, not understanding what Summerhill Nova meant.

“… Phyllis,” Summerhill then continued, thinking that was the correct name of Bena/Bennington now. Phyllis approached the podium to scattered applause.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0305, Benangatron^, Corsica, Splinterwood^

directions

Whenever Ben gets lost or confused in his wanderings, he just types BENA into his map search box and returns here through it, to the center of Bena, formerly Bennington — with his bar straight ahead. Through this practice he’d learned, quite a long time ago at this point — about the time of the Vampire Coup I suppose — that his home sim now called Bena has a double, also named Bena. Or beginning with Bena. Anyway, it’s an ocean sim or water sim, more in the western reaches of the continent. And, just to its northwest, a kind of parallel town to here. One day he’d use this trick to escape the bar, the vampires, even his old werewolf friends that still come by his establishment every now and then, despite what the vampires told them to do. “Stay away,” they exclaimed after the coup. “The bar is ours, the *town* is ours. And then they brought in that foreign lawyer Rebl to seal the deal. How many forms did he have to sign back in the day? Too many to remember. Bennington to Bena, pheh.

He turned around in place and stared at Northeast Bloodbath Castle, so named because of a bath of blood (the king’s favorite in olden days) instead of a murder spree of some kind. “Wonder if that Rocky Racco writer guy ever made it over there to fish?” he wonders aloud. “Guess I should have told him about the sea monster that guards the place, hehe.” Ben Wolf ponders about the last time he saw Gregg Oden, aka the “monster”. Probably 20 years ago at this point. Just walked in the bar, ordered a Baileys and poured it in his shoe and drank it down, and then walked back toward the bay, shouting, “I’m Gregg Oden!” before the waters took his slimy green, pink tutu wearing figure again. He’s always looking for a man-wife after he shows them his shiny man-gina, and perhaps this Rocky Racco will turn out to be a suitable one this time. But the odds are stacked way against him.

Ben exits the bay and walks into town, but passes his bar — empty anyways (day hours) — on the way to Rocky’s now vacated cave, his old home when Bena was Bennington. The “Wolf Den.”

He could live here again, he ruminates while sitting on the soft, cushy pillows within. But that would mean…

The pack wouldn’t understand, despite the weakening down through the years. They’d still tear her to shreds, pull out her head and all her limbs and wave them about while howling their crazy “traitor songs” maniacally. Once married to a wolf, always a Wolf yourself, he understood. The surname Phox she cooked up one drunken evening was a sardonic play on words. She knew it was Wolf still and told it to everyone who asked, saying the other name was a joke and then usually laughed a bit to emphasize this. Funny Phyllis Phox, people thought about her. Guess that led to the stand up comedy. Which led to the novels.

No, he’d have to think of another way. Perhaps involving this other Bena, yes…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0214, Benangatron^, Corsica

to remember it by (Treasure Hill continuation)

“I keep looking out that window and thinking there’s someone sitting up on that giant live oak limb, staring at us. But it’s just that dark angel in the middle of the pond over there.”

“One hour ’til sunrise,” urges Eighty-seven beside her, formerly Eighty-eight.

“Match tonight — better try to get some sleep.” Eighty-six now.

—–

Surely Wheeler will be alright on her own this *one* time, thinks rocking Baker Blinker back in Collagesity at her Gloomy Gus house. The 88’s will be with her.

But someone indeed has followed Wheeler to the wrestling arena in what use to be Morgan-Julia. And is manipulating time and space around her.

“One more piece then I’m done,” mutters Cpt. Americus, trying to polish off his bucket of chicken so he can think properly about another evil plot to hatch.

The stream rages on…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0612, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Mountain Lake^, Nautilus, Omega^^

no wee

“I think we’ve got everything we need, Merry. Rope, tent, flashlights. It’s all there. The general store here set us up real good with all these freebies.” He finally looks over; pays attention. “Oh my, you’ve changed again.”

“Yeah, the skin is gone. Been gone for about 30 minutes,” *Breeze* replies. “You’ve been calling me the wrong name for a while.”

Axis goes over to her, holds her. “I’m sorry.” They lock hands. “I promise to pay more attention.”

“It’s okay.” She leans in for a kiss.

—–

“I see it in the enlarged fire, Rules of Rose. Merry Gouldbusk is succumbing (!). We must do something to alter the mix.”

“Do something,” Rules of Rose echoed, also staring. “But — what?”

Ruby Fantasie looked to her right. “Norris. Norris could help. Put him back in that tree.”

“If you in-*sist*,” spoke the elven fairy, readying her powers of teleportation once more. This was her plan all along, though.

“He already knows his lines. Just send him. Break a limb!” she called over for encouragement as he vanished from the scene.

—–

“Hell-oo! Hellllooo!”

Jer Left Horn spots the source of the call up in his beloved tree. He stands. “Who are you?’

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0306, End of Time^^