Tag Archives: Marty^*+++$

June 13, 2020 · 10:10 am

Upper West East Central Fenland (or thereabouts)

He decides to become Harrison Jett this morning, who seems to be the same as Young Harris the professor, perhaps a later incarnation. It was a logical choice, given the shirt he wore.

“Another Messed Up,” he observed about the art work before him, thinking back to the contract signed on that particular Weird-o Island. Not the one with the Upper New York virtual university. Not the one where that pseudo-God lives up in the aether somewhere — David something or ‘nother. Instead perhaps the *weirdest* one of the 3, but he can’t recall the name. He remembers… staying there. Perhaps he is still there.

Whose heart is left on the musical stand? He must think of Mozart and the critical error of Yoko Ona the witch. Hole in the center. But it wasn’t John’s. It was his! The walrus was… well, you know the story.

I think this has something to do directly with that Weird-o island I can’t recall the name of. Queer?

Better head back there for more clarification hopefully.

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June 12, 2020 · 6:17 am

Bell’s

“Everyone knows about the Ant Castle,” replies Golden Jim, glancing over at the structure perched on top of Yellowmoon Ridge, wearing it like an orange crown. “It’s where the ants emerge from the elephants trunk, turning it into, well, just Eleph. Peak, that is.

“And do you *know* the particular black ant that lives in the castle?” the mann next to him queries further about the mysterious object high in the sky. “Not Queen but King.”

“Boldon,” Golden Jim guesses, suddenly recalling the history of the place, the *smell*. The wax hardens and everything is recorded. It was a good work.

“He invented the telephone, you know,” The Mann spoke over. “That’s why he likes to use it so much. One could say he’s really *jazzed* about it.”

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May 31, 2020 · 7:44 am

Heartsdale 04

She stands at a crossroads outside the motel. David A.B. and Linda Halsey are still talking in the lighted patio outside the lobby. They would be doing this as long as the motel itself existed, she realized. She stares toward the mysteriously highlighted red-blue-green gate to the east (sky-sea-land). She’s *been* here before, she realizes while studying it and almost being hit by a right turning, beat up station wagon with Illinois license plates in the process. BDR529. Not quite all the numbers but getting there.

“Where there are churches there must be liquor stores,” she remarks confidently while walking between two. She goes in a direction no Yoko has ever gone before, messing with the patterns.

—–

“So this is what you do all the time, Baker B.?” asked observing Marty at Collagesity’s Blue Feather Table Room.

“Pretty much,” admitted the male baker version to the famous composer/musician variant.

“W-where is she going? She’s just heading off in a random direction.”

“Not random,” spoke Baker Bloch. “Hopefully.”

“What is this place?” Marty further queried.

“Heartsdale. It’s in title.” Baker looked over, confident in his randomness. “She’s been here before,” he added. “Or *I* have.”

“And this has — something to do with John.”

“Absolutely,” I crowed. “Bakersworks,” I said to end.

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May 28, 2020 · 5:15 am

Corsican Collagesity 03

“I wanted to bring you here, Hucka Doobie, to show you where John and I use to meet to go to our various hangouts. Before he became — well, you know now.”

“Solid lime green,” responded Hucka, recalling the meeting. “Lemon”.

“Yeah, the whole *blurring* of the n’s. Like we can’t see properly. And we *can’t*. John is lost to me. But *here*. We could go back…”

“To go back is to die, Marty,” the resident Sunklands blog spirit offered to this.

“Yeah. I suppose.” Marty looked around. “Smells so fresh here after a pouring rain. This is where I also became the Fireman. In short: I want to help.” He stared straight at Hucka Doobie here.

“The Table.”

“Yes!”

—–

“I suppose it makes sense,” replied Baker Bloch later to Hucka Doobie sitting at the same. “He *does* live here after all. He’s just a skip and a beat away. Lemon can’t come, though.”

“Oh no,” states Hucka Doobie. “He has a, well, he has a hole in the middle that can’t be filled. Property of a *witch*.”

“Now Hucka, you know we can’t say that here.”

“*We* — just did.”

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May 27, 2020 · 9:31 am

Corsican Collagesity 02

For their second “date”, Marty took Hucka Doobie to a remote coffee shop in the sky on a parcel bordering his own over in eastern Urqhart. “Bring your mac,” he warned. “It’s always pouring rain there.”

—–

“It really is raining quite hard here,” spoke Hucka Doobie, staring out.

On his part, Marty wasn’t looking at the rain.

—–

“I think he likes me (!),” she exclaimed later to Baker Bloch back at the Perch restaurant in Collagesity one sim over.

“Oh, come on, Hucka,” said one of her two oldest friends in this world, along with female counterpart Baker Blinker. They go back over a decade now. “You know he’s probably still married to Linda Halsey. And he lusts after that Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child. And he’s had an affair with Audrey, even after causing the death of her husband Jeffrie Phillips before deciding to resurrect him at her urging. In other words: he plays the fields.”

“Strawberry Fields,” responds the wise bee person. “Lemon is back as well (!). I get to meet him on our next, er, get together.”

“Still afraid to commit to calling it a date, I see.”

Hucka Doobie knew Marty and she didn’t have a real future as a couple. She was just trying to get under Baker Bloch’s skin, see how he felt about the whole situation. I guess it seems to be working? she queried herself while staring into his cold, dead eyes, looking for signs of life.

—–

“Well?” asks Hucka Doobie after an hour. “Where is he, Marty? You said he’d meet us at Perch.” Marty still wasn’t paying attention, staring down from Hucka’s eyes. “Oh I don’t know. Probably picking up more eggs for Yoko or something.”

Lemon’s foot enters the door…

… shortly followed by his body. “Hell-o hell-o hell-o”.

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May 27, 2020 · 8:14 am

Corsican Collagesity 01

“It really is very nice, Hucka Doobie. But — where are all the *new* collages?”

“Well,” she responds to Marty as they keep walking toward the Temple of TILE, perhaps the final destination of the night. “*That* process has basically been absorbed in the generation of the Collagesity *photo*-novels, photos equaling vague or simplified types of collages quite often. Like this.”

Marty looked over at the profile of the walking bee-woman. “Like what?”

“Never mind,” she says, “that wasn’t for you.”

“Hmm.” They continue forward toward The Junction. Official name? They pause here.

“Temple of TILE — thataway, Marty. Barry X. Vampire’s new writing house: dead ahead. Which way do we go?”

“Is this, ahem, another *collage*? One I can’t see?”

“Maybe, er, baby.”

“Listen, baby. I must be going. Lemon is coming over for stew, bringing Yoko Ona. The ‘Coming Up’ song really worked! He’s back in business. Solid lime-green he is. You should come see him.”

“I saw that Barry X. Vampire had written about that,” spoke a noncommittal Hucka Doobie. “But — what of the solid lime green auto? Back in Storybrook.”

“Oh that place is so *history*,” quickly replied Marty, waving his hand in dismissal. “Lemon’s taken its place. You have to choose between green and yellow. You can’t have one over the other.”

“But you *can*.” Marty didn’t understand this. After pecking her cheek with a swift kiss he chose the path to the Temple of TILE to get to the Circuit La Corse which would take him home. Hucka Doobie stood her ground, staring ahead at Barry’s place on Collagesity’s edge and wondering what just happened. Next to the town dump currently he is. Barry hadn’t complained about the smell yet. Perhaps that’s a bad sign about his health.

—–

“You and Marty had a *what*?”

“I think — it was a kind of date (!)”

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May 25, 2020 · 11:17 am

Fireman

“I’ve killed your husband Jeffrie Phillips, Audrey. I’ve killed the *killer* of your husband Arthur Kill. I’m afraid we are *all*…”

“–Don’t say it, former lover,” requested Audrey to Marty from the bench in front of NWES’ Red Rose (actual type of business yet to be determined). “You brought him back. You also got rid of that murderer Arthur Kill to everyone’s great relief.”

“Legos, yes,” states the famed musician/composer, pondering fondly of the little, toy-like people living on the hill overlooking Urquhart Castle at similarly famed Loch Ness in Scotland. They’d only spotted the actual one a handful of times, but they knew a monster when they saw it. And Arthur Kill definitely was one. *Pop,* roll roll roll, *splunk*. Laying in a bloody heap down at the edge of the castle thanks to the quick action of Winfield 5 and husband-wife Winnie. Marty followed it all in his mind’s eye; replayed his reimaging of the event many times. And then when you erase the extra “u”, like the Loch Ness Monster himself or herself did that one time, you get, um, well you get *home*. Urqhart. While I remain in Our Second Lyfe most likely. And Marty is a neighbor!

Audrey waited patiently for the internal monologue to end. Then: “I heard the fire engines will also be cooled down because of — this place.”

Marty turned. The Red Rose.

Yes, indeed circumstances had changed in this here NWES City, still a partner to newly repositioned Collagesity over in Urqhart moving forward. Both have been *reset*.

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May 24, 2020 · 10:07 am

switch 02

“I’m always having to hoooovverr in here for a proper sit,” Marty complains softly, still sorry that he had to absorb that poor girl Marsha “Pink” Krakow for the Greater Good by dying his hair black again. Almost half a meter higher than his median Second Lyfe position now, he returns his attention to the red doors.

—–

“We want to make sure it’s someone believable that enters those doors, Baker Bloch.”

“Sure, Hucka Doobie.” She keeps staring at him. “Oh — me?”

“*No*. It’s not always about you. *Me*.” She points to herself in the teal boathouse still rented by Baker Bloch in town, having given up on the green one closer to the church just today. Former occupant SEAN is truly gone from Storybrook: back to New Orleans for him, sans Marsha to his great disappointment. He should have never tried the Big Reveal. “Marsha was just too young, too *brainwashed*,” he speaks aloud to The Mann (her father) 5 years later in the New Orleans Blues Little Rock bar in nearby Little Rock, Arkansas.  A pity visit that turned into friendship and beyond: The Mann now truly loves this 28 year old black man with developing arthritis just as much as his little girl in ways. “I’m — sorry you had to leave, SEAN,” he spoke soon after arriving, looking out at the current of the stream sweeping another magic toy down to the bay.

—–

“Come with *me*, fellow hoverer.”

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May 23, 2020 · 9:03 am

no Bland

The Donut Hole, Marty thinks while looking down at it from the high window of the Starlite Lounge, fortunately for him and others one of the last Pipersville landmarks Lt. Salt had on his list to check. Didn’t get there. “And Sweet Alice is the filled void in the middle; no need to go back,” he spoke aloud while turning his red topped option back to the turntables. For every season, I suppose — seasoning. Pepper in this case. Pepper black starry void of 1975 or thereabouts.

He stares thataway now at what’s being filmed…

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May 20, 2020 · 8:43 am

split screen

“We’re not here to play with chess pieces, my lovely Linda Halsey,” Marty opens. “We’re here to play with minds. Give me a report on the latest over in Urqhart (or thereabouts), dearest.”

“Sure, um. We think Wheeler may be back in the game.”

“Is that good?”

“Is it?” she returned, and then Lisa Smipson showed up asking if they wanted menus but only brought up Vegetarian selections for specials. They thanked her while shaking their heads about needing food, not realizing who she was in the moment. Lisa then dropped this broad hint of how the game should go.

“You know, a mere pawn can be turned into a whole board given enough time,” she said in her pleasantly squeaky voice, bordering between serious and parody. Kind of like stuck between a 2d and 3d existence.  Fisher the fry cook called from the kitchen, needing her to pick up another order. “2 Perch, hold the fries, hold the slaw,” he called, giving more hints. She turned sideways and fairly disappeared in front of them. Another took her place in a frozen slice of time.

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