Tag Archives: Mary Tyler/Chuckles Greentop

nestings

Philip paused in reading his red book to stare over at the child. “What’re you building, sugar?” He’d become more open in his affections for Heidi Hunt Ives recently; he’d been dreaming about her almost every night. She was fast transforming into his own flesh and blood offspring.

“A portal,” she said mysteriously, still not looking up. “You *do* like to get high… don’t you?”

“High?” Philip coughed. “Nah. That’s more Marion’s bag. Nickle bag, hehe.”

“But…,” she continued while making her sand castle, “… you *do* want to keep him calm and happy. Because he then calms you down. Remember how it was *before*? You were not the nice person that you are now.”

Philip considers again that Marion should have never told the kid about their backgrounds. But she insisted if she was to be part of the group, the *gang*. He remembered his own briefing about the girl. “Shapeshifter,” Marion reinforced. “Can turn old, middle aged, young. She’s even got a dog transmutation… poodle, she claims, although I haven’t seen it up close and in person. Then there’s another one she’s working on, Philip, and this will take the cake. Bug,” Marion says, making him laugh. And now that’s what he keeps calling her in these dreams. My little bug, etc.

Philip decides to walk over to the sand box and take a closer look. It seemed quite detailed from his perspective. She was just finishing up the northeast turret.

“Hana Lei is where it will take us,” she began again. “We thought she was dead but now it’s been found again.”

“What — or who is this Hana Lei?”

“Island,” she speaks, halting her work and looking up at Philip now. *Is* this his child? he wonders, staring into her green eyes.

“Pitch,” she then utters.

“Pitch?”

—–

Pitch Darkly rouses himself. By his side, Mary was staring at him, wide awake already. “You had another dream didn’t you?”

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Filed under *Second Life, Capitol City, Gaeta V, Hana Lei, Uncategorized

continuation

Philip continued to read his book for hours. Afterwards it described him looking through the telescope at hand and seeing Spica, bright as a bell, like he was back in the northern hemisphere and far away from that dreaded Southern Cross. Back to studying the Spica variable star and the precession of the equinoxes, similar to one of his major heroes Copernicus did before him. Our Second Lyfe’s sun, hmm, he then ponders, wondering if it could possibly be reachable by rocket ship. What is in the centre?

—–

By this time, Marion Harding was back down on the ground — grounded — and seeing Capitol City straight and for what it really was again. Bland and boring. The others of his gang were suppose to meet him in Raven Manor’s main dining room at 7:00 (more leftovers from the great spread he had prepared 2 nights back now), but since they both were usually a little late, he decided to drag his feet this time as well. He takes a detour to that recently found ice fishing shed over in Horizons-Spica, part of the sci-fi retro sub-continent where land can be rented so cheaply (thanks Veyot!). Ahh, vacation, he thinks. Could it be possible soon? Perhaps after the one last big bank heist in Farmington. Or was it Bennington?

He teleports to the shack using the landmark created last night. An angler is positioned just a bit down the bank from him, seemingly of the female variety. “Hello?” he says. No answer — but this might be problematic. He wanted to be alone and smoke his grass and talk to his fantasy creations: Peanut Cop, Golden Josephine, and the rest. Away from that nonsense babbling Kid and tough talking Philip, somehow the best of buds now despite their different natures. He doesn’t want other fishermen — or fisherwomen — in his way. Who does own the shack? He desires it for his own, his own centre of the universe, he realizes, at least for a little while.

He decides just to ignore the problem for now and poke around inside again. Chess, he remembers…

He finds himself laying down on the far couch against the colorful throw pillows.

“Fishing,” he murmurs, relaxing, letting it all go. “Fishing for fish. Fishing for answers. Fishing for…”

“Pitch,” the fisher lady then calls from outside, puzzling him. “Pitch. Time to wake up. Wake up.”

—–

“It was awful, Mary. I dreamed I was back in Buster and I’s killing shack, but I was the victim set up this time. I was to be sacrificed!”

“There, there,” Mary comforted, stroking his white forehead. “Only a dream.” Then they laid together. It was like old times.

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Filed under *Second Life, Capitol City, Gaeta V, Hana Lei, Horizons, Uncategorized

monochrome

“Well, Wheeler. What’s next for you… us?”

“Call me Kidd here. Billy Jean Kidd. Chroma who is Jimmy has fused with Wheeler and The Musician. The great 3-n-1. Norris.”

“Norris?” the great vampire Pitch Darkly questions. He did not know this name. “Do you mean Morris?”

“I do not,” replies The Kidd firmly, sitting forward with hands on knees now. She stares toward him.

Pitch decides to enter mouseview to get a better look at her.

Such an interesting simulation. Simulacrum. He takes up the thread again. “So, who is this Norris, then?”

“You know. 3-n-1,” she states once more.

“Humm, Sandusky,” Pitch says, nodding. Nodding off, that is.

—–

Blackness again.

Then falling. He recalls a brief glimpse of a large, many windowed building.

Something was lost. Not just eyesight. Earsight; speechsight. He falls and falls, then lands, upright, in the midst of animals.

Solid water. He thinks: ark. But then intuitively realizes this is more simulation and there is a door out of what is actually a small globe. Like a door from Earth to Heaven. He thinks of “The Truman Show” and going beyond “The Wall”. True man.

He finds the door in a logical seam, and faces a different, greener water. Atoll style.

He makes his way to a distant shore via an inflatable mattress.

On the beach, he looks back at the globe with the animals within, but knows the animals cannot see him. He thinks to check the owner of the globe, the inflatable mattress, the water itself and the beach and the rocks. All belong to The Kidd again. He is in her realm, he realizes.

—–

Pitch wakes up. A brief nap, but meaningful. Billy Jean Kidd is still staring at him, wide awake all the time.

“I have removed your cardboard eyes and given you back your sights, all 3 of ’em. All I do for this is to ask a small favor. Only one. Find Norris the Father. Look in Beaver City, Nebraska. Find him and tell him that the time has come to firewalk between Republicans and Democrats. He’ll understand. He’ll come here, then. I know you can pull this off. Else: darkness again. You have all the resources of this island at your disposal. And other entities will be dropping by to help.

“But…” he implores.

“Mary?” Billy Jean Kidd guesses correctly about what is foremost in his mind. “Yes. Her too.” Mary manifests beside The Kidd. Pitch Darkly wonders if she’s grown taller since they last met about a week back.

“One chance out between two words,” she chants.

“Worlds,” Billy Jean Kidd corrects. “You meant worlds there.” Mary turns toward her but doesn’t respond. Pitch blows out air in resignation before shutting his eyes and falling asleep again.

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Filed under *Second Life, Hana Lei, Uncategorized

’round the clock?

Santa God waited patiently for 10:15, when he would allow Baker Bloch to exit the Christmas Chamber. He wanted to be there in person to greet him and see his smiling face as he opened the door. Like a kid opening presents, except in reverse. Humph, he thought while staring across the castle’s open interior at the Christmas Mural — “Snowball” he lovingly calls it. What *does* he want here? The great 3-n-1 is within, as I’ve told Halloween Jack, the scoundrel. We should probably contact Melvin about this. Although rather an idiot, he’d help smooth over our differences. A quite square little fellow, but he has some allies on his sides and makes good points at times. We can meet at the Forest Retreat, a neutral spot. There we can achieve the low-down on this Mr. Baker Bloch’s motives. What’s *really* inside him and makes him tick.

—–

Halloween Jack was the first to arrive, taking a larger seat as per usual. Santa God refused to sit beside him, and squeezed into one of the smaller chairs two down instead. “Where’s Melvin?” he asks the taller deity. “He said he’d bring him right over.” Santa God reconsidered. “But I guess he has to give him equal time in the Nasty Bodiour”.

“He doesn’t have to sleep with Lady Mary,” Halloween Jack clarifies about Melvin’s own castle room. “He just has to lay with her for 15 minutes.”


Awwkwarrd!

“Melvin’s a sickie, if you ask me. And why does he get the highest castle again? First one here?”

“Yes, like I was first to arrive at our meeting and I grabbed a higher chair. I knew you wouldn’t want to sit next to me, and 3 down is too far away. Hence you are forced into a lower chair. That’s us, then… the two ‘Lowies’. I don’t like to make the same mistake twice.”

“I’m still a little higher than you,” Santa God replies about the position of his own castle while readjusting himself in his chair.

“Not here, though. Not now.”

“Hrmph.” Santa God turns his innate loathing back to Melvin. “I guess he’ll start to bedeck the place with his Fourth of Juli stuff soon.”

“Not until I take down my Halloween decor,” offers Jack. “That’s how it works. We don’t have enough prims otherwise. And yours, lets see, is due to come down December 26th? hehe.”

“August,” says Santa God disgustedly. “September till August. That’s the deal.”

“And I get the trees instead of you,” Halloween Jack finishes.

Melvin arrives with the guest to their plane.

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Filed under *Second Life, Clemscott, Gaeta V

landscape

“I can’t see *anything*, Pitch thinks. “I can’t hear, can’t speak. My life is over.”

“We’ll get you fixed up,” Mary encourages in his head while continuing to stare at the giant fruit in front of her. “Apple, orange, yellow fruit, lime. There’s nothing to see, hear, speak about. Yet. We’ll get you fixed up.”


Merlin Martin

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Filed under *Second Life, Clemscott, Gaeta V

limey

“Pitch, I’d like you to meet Jessica — put your hand back, sweetie, he’ll shake it in a moment — and this here is Phillip Linden. You know about my creator now. Well, Phillip kind of created this *whole thing* we’re in, this Second Lyfe of ours.”

“Cool,” Pitch replied. “Nice to meet you Jessica, Phillip.”

“Phillip runs a bar now,” continues Mary. “Just for laughs and giggles, you know. Something to do when he’s not away creating worlds. Like now apparently, haha.” She turned toward him to emphasize his “away” status at the time.

“Right.”

“We should go sometime,” suggests Mary, then winks at him. “To the bar, I mean.”

“What about *Steven*?” Was Mary asking him on a date despite what he knows?

“Steven schmeven…”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“You and I, Pitch,” said Mary to her pale counterpart. “We’re the real deal.” She turned to Philip and shouted. “Hey in there! Hey Phillip! What time does your bar open!?” Everyone in the building turned and stared.

Philip woke up from his away status, looked around. “Um, what was that, er, Mary?”

“I said!” Then she lowered her voice, realizing there was no need to shout any longer. “I *said*… what time does Gene Autry open?”

“Gene Autry?”

“The bar, silly. Your bar. Just over there in the corner of the sim. Above the ride. On the second floor of the freebies shop.” She turned back to Pitch, took his hand. “Here, let’s just head on over, sweetie. Phillip’s there already. I should know.”

—–

“You see, Pitch darling. *This* is where it all happens. A philosopher’s corner. A veritable cornucopia of ideas and inventions. Why, just last week Phillip suggested the idea of a cubic moon for Second Life with equilateral gravity on all six sides. Not flat like this place. And I think that’s where it’s all headed, Pitch. Diagonal. Because diagonal leads beyond. Have you ever moved in a diagonal sugar?”

Pitch didn’t really know what Mary was babbling on about. A young black man who had been sitting on the opposite side of the room suddenly moved toward the bar toting a large, green lime between his hands. Not saying anything, he placed it on the counter, then exited via the stairs down to the lower floor.

Phillip became fully awake again, looked at Mary, looked at the big lime. “A lime is called a linden in Britain.”

“Who *was* that shadowy figure?” he begged.

And so it began.

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Filed under *Second Life, Clemscott, Gaeta V

All Mary’s

“I’m real, you know. I’m not just a doll.”

“You’re not my Mary,” a slightly drunk Pitch Darkly grumbles. He looks up. “What did I get you for our one month anniversary together?”

“Sapphire,” she quickly responded. “Pen.” She points toward her scarf. “The one I’m wearing.”

“Impressive,” Pitch says with a head tilt and a smirk. “So do all you clones know everything about each other? You Clem clones?”

“We’re not clones. We’re all the same. There’s a difference. Let me show you something. I want to introduce you to my friends here. Do you have time?”

“Sure,” replies Pitch. What’s time here? he thinks to himself.

—–

“Pitch Darkly,” says the seated Mary in a nearby building. “These are my mates Patti (“Hi!”), Ben (“Hellooo!”), Paul (“Likewise!”) and Tammi (“Nice to meet you!”). Why don’t you have a seat, Pitch. Have a drink as well. There’s a bar right over there.”

“No thanks, I’ll stand.” Pitch was trying to determine what this was. A party of mannequins? But Mary still talks to me. And all the others responded as well.

—–

Suddenly he was across the room, standing before Mary still but with a new friend this time. “We’ll get back to the party soon enough, Pitch. I wanted you to meet Steven first. I met him shortly after Hana Lei was destroyed by snow and ice… couldn’t handle the weight. Steven is a brick layer. Best in the four sim region.”

Steven stands up, shakes Pitch’s hand vigorously with a vise grip. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’ve heard so many things about you.” He glances over at Mary and returns to his seat.

—–

Then he was at the bar in another part of the same floor. Mary was bartending again. Another Bucket of Blood manifests in front of him out of thin air. The sun was setting on Clemscott. The automatic lights were warming up.

“So you see, we’re not clones. We’re all the same. Every last one of us. All Mary’s. Like Nancy before us. Like *everyone*, really. Like you, Pitch Darkly. Who are you deep inside that white, bloodied exterior? You know.”

But Pitch’s mind was not set on philosophy tonight. Something more basal and immediate troubled him. “So you have a new boyfriend now,” he blurts with aching heart.

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Filed under *Second Life, Clemscott, Gaeta V, Uncategorized