Tag Archives: Mary Tyler/Chuckles Greentop^^++++!

July 2, 2025 · 10:02 am

00470308 (workaround)

“An island!” Firey calls from the top. “And about the right size too. Maybe we’ve found our Dream home after all!”

“Cool!” says his riding companion Leafy clinging to his legs below. “Let’s get a closer look. But *careful*.”

“Whoa, that was a *close* call with that big building, Firey. I told you to be careful!”

“And *I* told you when we started I don’t know how any of this works! I’m just along for the ride like you!”

“*Not* cool (still)!”

“Uh oh,” says observing fisherman Mr. Z, watching them move closer to the ground…

Closer… closer…..

*CRASH*

“*Well*,” says tossed aside Firey, trying to make the best of a bad situation. “We’re… here?”

Leafy leaps up, surveys the damage. “Firey what have you done?! Now we’ll never be able to return to Goikyland! Glider — *destroyed*!”

An exclamation which the people holding service behind the red doors of the Church of Ood they just crashed into would surely have heard if they weren’t laughing so hard at Pitch Darkly and his cussing about the blood spurt he’d received on his chest from the clown sacrifice up front, ha ha ha, he he he!! Even wife Mary beside him couldn’t subdue a smile. The landed spurt must have also exactly coincided with the crash outside come to think of it. Cool? Not cool? To be seen, perhaps.

On the other side of the island, All Orange senses another object-character is here with him now. No, make that two other object-characters, he amends.

He rushes inside to place a call to his Constantynople contact.

“Excuse me, Phyllis (Phyllis!),” Al says when hearing a particular ring tone and understanding who is on the other side. “I have to take this. Business matters.”

But Phyllis was still laughing at the matters in the church. Remotely. We’re talking about some kind of doppelganger spirit here.

“Hallo?” Reply. “2 of ’em, eh?” Reply. “Find them before anyone else if possible?” Reply. “I’ll try.” Reply. “Okay, I’ll *do*. Goodbye, All Orange.” He hangs up. “Goodbye forever I wish,” he says to himself and himself only. He turns around but Phyllis is on the ottoman now. Both of ’em.

“Sit down, Al,” they cackle as one, scrunched down to only a laughing/smiling head. “I’ll bring them to us, no worries.”

“Here,” Firey says, spreading his stick arms out before it. “I feel that we should go here.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0308, Constantynople, Fal Mouth Moon, Goikyland, Nautilus

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April 21, 2024 · 3:21 pm

00420512

Pitch Darkly and especially (of course!) born fisherperson Mary Ball Darkly were so successful on their extended angling vacation that they had to rent a truck to bring the caught loot back home to Aisle of Palms. “Hope you brought your appetite back with you too,” issues Mary while staring at the smelly crates piled 3 high in its bed, knowing they had limited space in the manor’s freezers.

Now to get down to serious issues once more: the Ball situation. They were four weeks late getting back as it was. Too much fun! Couldn’t let it end despite the potential cost. It’s all virtual reality anyway, said Pitch to Mary after their huge haul at Fox Island (alternately Squirrel Island) in Endlessly Antipodal. So it was on to the Amazon Basin and piranhas/electric eels after that to finally get the cold of Walsh County ND out of their bones and blood, and then All Orange to finish up, a virtual fisherperson’s paradise as indicated by Mary’s knowledgeable friend Sandy Beech way way back in the days. Just got around to getting there. Sandy’s never wrong about these things, she knew. Best fry cook in the whole of Great Belt where he comes from, she’s heard from not one but several sources.

“Are you sure this is right, Mary? Fish in a *volcano*?”

“Emm, maybe I got the wrong color in that name. All Green?” she tested, burning through yet another line. “Brown?”

“Let’s go, Mary. Well have to rent a truck to get back our vast haul as is. We have enough.”

“Alright.”

“Plus the Ball situation; Baker wanted us back there a month ago.”

“I know I know.” Mary starts packing up the tackle…

… just in the nick of time as it turns out. *Great balls of fire* that was close to where they were standing! And more on the way. Get off that erupting mountain quick guys!

But, as we know, they got home okay, phew. Mary wasted no time in placing a call to so-called expert Sandy Beech.

“All *Blue*,” he erupted back when hearing the color she chose to remember in their by now long ago conversation about the place. “There’s no fish in a volcano!”

But, savant that she is, Mary still caught a couple.

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March 14, 2024 · 3:17 pm

00420306

*Interesting*. Part of Mary Ball’s Epping Woods remains over near VHC City on the Heterocera continent, although the Killing Shack there where vampire Pitch Darkly and his partner in crime and fellow vampire Buster Damm took their victims for blood sacrifices is gone. I guess that would go along with it reappearing at the bottom of a lake over on Bellissaria. And Pepper and her gallery of abstract sculptures is there too (as I wrote that, I sneezed).  Hard to forget her. She’s the one who drove Pitch (and Buster) away from VHC City in the first place, back back back to Collagesity also on the same continent at that time but many sims away to the south (Rubi Woods). We’re talking about storied lands here and tales that are approaching decades in length. Tales of banishment and at least partial redemption.

Nearby: The Void swallows.

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March 14, 2024 · 4:07 am

00420305 (blow the doors off something (also: Rabbit))

Time for Mary Ball and Pitch Usurpius Darkly to move on to the next leg of their extended fishing vacation…

…. Fox Island at Endlessly Antipodal. Note that Antipodal is very close to antipoison, almost as if it was in the same jacket near the same pocket. Juliet-like, balcony standing Sepisexton we’re talking about here again and her hidden vial of the latter. Just in case, as she puts it. The former is included in picks by not one but two Yellowmoon Ridge landowners who seem unconnected to each other, er, otherwise (where we’ve just seen Shelley and Arthur). That’s why I knew I had to send the Darklys or someone else in my family of avatars there to check it out, interact with the landscape and perhaps the residents, if any exist.

Philosophy time now: Everything in Our Second Lyfe is connect to each other as if in a fractal environment. It all drills down to the same thing over and over. Only Outside can save us, something beyond Our Second Lyfe. Haze County where I actually live up in the Real World is an obvious, top level way to escape this void. Similarly virtual but much more intensely verisimilitudinous Red Dead planet too — if I can figure out how to get Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate out of that fox body and into a human one again in St. Dennis, its only full fledged city and what some call the 8th wonder of that world. GoogleEarth and associated Street View is yet another way to latch onto something more real. Thing is, Our Second Lyfe is losing energy as games keep developing way above and beyond it. If it weren’t for the ability to create. Oh, and also the avatar customization and the incredible creativity of Our Second Lyfe residents in designing clothes, buildings, vehicles, all sorts of things. I seem to need to relay this to the reader of my blog to illustrate that I’m in sort of a tug of war between it and the rest of reality, including even other virtual worlds (and specifically, at least at this point, Red Dead Redemption 2, even though I don’t yet own the game itself, ha). I mean, right now in one of my other computer windows I’m looking at something that shouldn’t be possible. Something in Mary Ball’s old Killing Shack now located at the bottom of a lake in Decker on the original Bellissaria continent. How did I get to this point?


Then there’s the problem of OSL laaaggg.

So here we finally return to Pitch Darkly and Mary landing in their small fishing boat on what’s called Fox Island in the River of Bear. Of course it has other names — no surprise there — including Squirrel Island. Because of this little fellow, currently surrounded by sniffing foxes checking him out. But he’s actually a chipmunk; that’s what the foxes have surmised as well, being versed in Endlessly Antipodal geography and the naming of local things. “We’re still okay; still on top,” one speak-thinks to the other, actually being a part of one soul beneath the separate exteriors, a distinct advantage they have over humans.

Maybe we shouldn’t be so hasty in switching Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate back into a human body himself. See what he can still uncover as an urban fox.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0305, Bellisaria, Google Street View, Hana Lei^^, Haze County, RDR2, Western Hills

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March 12, 2024 · 4:00 am

Walsh County (Pitch Darkly)

“Look dear, I caught another one (!).”

“Hold on, Mary. Hold on. It’s Baker calling.”

“Baker? Hi!”

(reply)

“Yeah, we’re getting along great. A little cold of course but it is North–”

(reply)

“What was that? Hold on, let me take this darn Russian cap off with the ear flaps and all.”

—–

“Okay go ahead, sir.”

(reply)

“Yeah, I heard that now.” He covers the phone with his hand and whispers over to fishing Mary. “Baker says he needs to talk to us as soon as we get back to town.” He listens again…

(reply)

“Mary Ball, eh? Well that’s *one* of her names.”

(reply)

“George, right.” He removes the phone from his ear but doesn’t cover the face up this time while saying over to his wife in a louder voice: “He wants to know how you acquired the Killing Shack, you know, the one over in Epping Woods.”

“Why does he want to know that?” She was happy fishing right now. She didn’t want to be reminded of that horrendous past on her well deserved vacation. Calm, she said to herself. Caalllmm.

“I’ll ask him.” Phone to bare ear again. “Baker, what’s going on?”

(reply)

“Virginia neck country again, eh? Just like with—”

(reply)

“Dead ball era, huh? That’s *my* era, where I came from. Where the *ERA* was real low, he he. Get it? My era. My ER–”

(reply)

“Okay, thanks. See you when we get back.”

(reply)

“We will. Thanks.” And Baker Bloch hangs up on the other side.

—–

“Did you mention the antipoison?”

“No,” Baker responds to Hucka. “I thought he’d had enough to chew on today.”

“Agreed I suppose. So we’re on for next Tuesday?”

“8 o’clock sharp.”

(to be continued)

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March 10, 2024 · 9:40 pm

00420302

“I found this in the same county as White Stone, Hucka. Merry and Mary, just like in St. Merry’s (?) Church.”

“Follow up on that,” she requests. So I did. I talked to Pastor Ziegler about the weird conjunction.

—–

“That’s interesting it’s Mary Ball there as well.”

“As well?” I prompted.

“Yes. Mary Ball is the mother of George Washington. And it happens that it’s Pitch Darkly’s Mary’s maiden name too. Can’t be coincidence.”

“Again,” I replied.

“Especially since they also have a kid named George, come to think of it. Not sure how old the boy would be now. Maybe even a teenager?”

“He was growing up fast the last time I checked,” I agreed

“Anyway (*sigh*), this is certainly a mystery indeed. Another Virginia neck mystery.”

“First Susan and Shadow. Now this. Lively… variant names of both Pitch Penny and Catch Penny, inferring a battery in baseball. Balls are more lively than they use to be back in the dead ball era, before the death of Indian Ray Chapman via beaning and the cleaning up of (the ball and) the game, giving hitters the upper hand over pitchers (and catchers) from that day forward. Martyr, some say because of it.”

“I’m glad you are confiding all this to me,” spoke Pastor Stephan Ziegler of the 1st Church of St. Merry’s — yes, that’s the name — who seemed just happy to be part of the town story again. Aisle of Palms… stated he loves it in all its interesting twists and turns. I thought to myself that he’s probably just glad I didn’t instead go to Rev. Amos T. Sandman across the street at the rival Fries with Cheese Church with my insights — gives him the upper hand there as well. But of course Amos is rarely in the building because of the smell. Allergic to cheese of all things. And they built the church out of the material, as traditional states. No one can really stay there that long without wearing clothes pins on their noses, and so that became part of their traditional as well, part of ecclesiastical lore.

Fries with Cheese office manager Martha Lamb takes note of Baker’s exit from her second floor office window while getting ready to go home herself. She can free up the nostrils at last. Worst part of the job — everything else she loves, just like Stephan, who she perceives as a direct arch-rival, assuming that role for the mainly absent Reverend, she feels

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August 21, 2023 · 11:22 am

00390507

Pitch woke up on the other side of the Heart of the Island forest in a mess. His head hurt. He didn’t remember what happened. Wheeler, he then recalled. She ate the wrong kind. She won’t be getting out as easily as me. He raises up a bit and looks around at the big pink doughnut he sits in, he *escaped* in. He dares to look over at the police box through the trees, envisions the girl entering it and encountering whiteness inside. *That* was his salvation. Little Shelley Struthers from Hooktip just up or down the lane. Uncorrupted. Able to resist chocolate and other sweets, no chewy gum for example. Just as pure as golden ticket Charlie before her. But what now? He can’t leave without Wheeler, he understands. She is still a part of him, despite the, erm, evil. No: misjudgment. He’ll have to go back inside. To the beginning!

“Let’s actually switch, Wheeler,” he says over when getting there just before the first bite, thanks to Shelley’s help once more. “I think I can handle chocolate a little better than you.”

“Heartburn, yeah,” Wheeler said, remembering her once in a while condition and withdrawing the object from her salivating mouth — just a bit.

“Here,” Pitch said, extending the pink one in her direction and ready to grasp the brown with the other. Can she?

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August 19, 2023 · 8:43 am

00390505

“Are we going to go ahead and sacrifice Willy Wonka, this *new* clown?” knife welding Preacher Stefan cried in the church immediately bordering the joker’s property, channeling the anger of Constantynople’s townspeople as a whole. Their buildings, their homes, had been called *junk*! Outrage spread through the village. Thus this meeting in the church they all loved. At least he didn’t pick on *this* particular low lying building, the most sacred in all the I’s land: St. Merry’s. “*I* want to speak,” said Pitch from the front, who was, after all, their default leader, the me closer to me than all the rest, being the same as Baker Bloch in essence. “Go ahead, dear,” urged wife Mary by his side. Always. Preacher Stefan acted fast before the townspeople were persuaded otherwise with a stab and accompanying spurt — right on Pitch’s just washed suit, blood splattered again so soon. Pitch looked down.

“Aww *damn*!”

“*Honey*. Not in *church*.” Laughter all around; bloodlust satisfied. Pitch had no pitch here.

“We’ll work on getting it out later,” she added toward the end, wiping up all they could in the moment.

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August 17, 2023 · 6:29 pm

he bats right he bats left doesn’t matter

“That was some pitch… Pitch. Explosive, even!”

“Thank you. I tried hard on that. Bit of spit, admittedly, to cut down on the Lively. Return to dead ball era, where I was *king*.”

‘Of course you were, Pitch. And Buster was a marvelous shortstop back in those days too.”

“Damm right!” Both laugh then quickly compose themselves. Serious stuff now. Library. Saving Constantynople.

—–

There he was, in Special Collections again. Looking for himself. I’ll have what I’m having and all. Self service. He already had his eye on something.

“Can I help you?” reading room coordinator Swanie Rivers jumped in, trying not to flap her wings this time despite the head, the gum. Calm and cool, like a waterfall or attached stream. *Not* a volcano or any kind of lava flow. Blue, clear, ready for tubing on a sticky ass hot summer day. She’ll let him select something and then tell him. No f-ing gum in Special Collections! But… calmly, cooly. No wing flapping.

“What’s in that more crooked shelving, those ring binders over there?” Philip believes he’s seen it in a dream. Several times in fact.

“Oh, yes, that’s part of the Merk Coolie Brighton collection. He use to work here!” Swamie told herself not to get excited and shout in the room, even though no one is currently there except Philip and her. But… he use to *work* here!

“Am I in it?” he asked, throwing Swanie for a loop. A closed one. Not-what-she-seems cleaning lady Ross C. slides through the cracks in the front door to observe.

Philip pops his gum one…

last…

time.

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August 16, 2023 · 4:37 pm

heart of the island trail

They left their familiars behind at the campfire, Mary and the 88s. We may catch up with them later. But first…

“Okay, all together with the magic donuts,” Wheeler commanded with the chocolate, Baker the strawberry. “One… two…”

Didn’t take long before she was somewhere else, being someone else. “Baker, w-where’d you go? Baker!? Suddenly she had to go, she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t shut the door for privacy. A little girl passed by.

“A little privacy?” she asked, making her stop and stare. Uncomfortably. “A little help?” She wanted the girl to shut the door and go away, because going away then shutting the door was impossible. “Little girl… your name please, little girl.” But then she recognized her. Shelley Struthers. From Hooktip. Just down the lane from her. Or up.


Shelley wasn’t suppose to talk to strangers, especially ones with long green noses and who smelled bad in the moment. Through the hat — different than the one Wheeler wore upon entering the woods in the heart of the island — she gathered she was confronting a witch. And it was strangely satisfying to see her obviously doing the thing that outhouses were made for. Gratifying indeed. She took in all the various, accompanying facial expressions. Why was this so fascinating?; like getting a mustard and ketchup laden hot dog with relish ta boot, she thought. So odd. The situation lasted a very long time indeed, probably much longer than possible actually. The witch had been saving it up for just this special moment, it seemed.

“*Thanks* little girl, er, *Shelley*. Thanks a *lot*,” she managed after it was finally over, door still open all this time. Then she realized she could have just “touched” it and shut it all along. In the heat of the moment, she forgot how Our Second Lyfe worked. “I’m *not* real here,” she muttered as a reinforcement. “I *didn’t* have to go to the bathroom — especially like that. I *could* have shut the door all the time. Heck, I didn’t even have to get seated. How’d *that* happen?” She looked up; Shelley was still there. “Well, move along… or speak or something. Don’t just keep standing there staring. Show’s over anyway.” She stands and finds she is clean down there, despite the lack of paper. Things were kind of getting back to “normal” in a virtual sense. And then her new hat was gone, replaced by the old. The girl extended her hand.

“You haven’t been here before, have you?” Wheeler shook her head and then grasped.

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