“Nice catch, mister. Know anything about Mister Lock locks by chance?”
“It’s ms., actually,” returned the lady fisherman. “Do you view fishing as a masculine sport young man, er woman?”
“Guess so. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to talk about locks. Because I know who you are. You are the keymaster, perhaps on a permanent break. ‘Gone Fishing’.”
Meanwhile, The Musician had given up attempting to play the nearby odd piano. Spilling water for keys. Stringy plants for piano strings. The American Standardbred horse Enola EM looks on amused.
He walks over to the small pond. “That her?”
“Yeah. What’s your name missus?”
“Chuckles. Like a clown. I was in the circus before earning the rank of keymaster. Keymeister is how we call it in the trade. But I can’t seem to teach the laypeople that. Would you like to see my clown face?”
“Oh sure,” replies Wheeler. “Wouldn’t we Musician?”
“Wouldn’t we what?” He had been distracted by the VHC Town skyline, trying to figure out where their “safe” plaza was in all that complexity. How did Wheeler find the keymaster out here so quickly?
“Take me back to your Collagesity and I’ll show you. Just send me a teleport invite after you return home. Now skidaddle.” Chuckles returned her attention to the wriggling fish she just caught. “I’ll bring this perch along as well. Maybe you can find someone to cook it for us over in your town. I can’t cook worth a lick. Can catch fish all day and all night but, you know how it is. Compartmentalization.”
“Sure, that’ll be fine Ms. Fisherman,” states Wheeler.
“Ms. Greentop,” the fisherwoman corrects. “Irish,” she adds.
“We have something to show you over there as well,” states Wheeler. “A painting we found near your shop. A puzzling one. Perhaps you can answer some questions.”
“Yes, in your town, yes. Not here. Too many ears. Ears are in hears.”
—–
“Which one bought her?” The Musician asks in confusion. He begins rummaging through his inventory.
“Me, of course,” returns Wheeler. “Who has all the money around here?”
“Yeah, I don’t see it. And I suppose you have the painting as well. That one was free, though.”
Wheeler checks. She has both. She makes sure the right group is activated, then rezzes. “Stand back,” she playfully warns.
“Oh wait. I have a funny one,” she then says, rearranging the objects. “Haha.”
Chuckles Greentop awakes, looks around. “That an actual honest to goodness Linden forest out there?” She points her rod toward the transparent front of the Blue Feather Club.
“Sure ’nuff is,” responds Wheeler. “And full of demons and other oddities. There’s even a fishing pond on the southern edge. Would you like to see?”
“Why not.”
“Musician, go over there to Collagesity West and change that Gloomy Gus into convex hulls. That should do the trick.” She returns her attention to Chuckles Greentop. “25 prims, Ms. Fisherman,” Wheeler scolds. “You come at a pretty price!”
“I’ve been around,” Chuckles Greentop responds.
“Ahem,” The Musician coughs. “The painting,” he prompts.
“Oh right. Well Ms. Greentop. Do you know anything about this painting beside you. The cat looks through a red door, but yet there’s a red door already opened. Two red doors, when there logically should only be one, it seems. We know you know about doors and how to get in and out of them. You must know about the red doors.” She looks over at The Musician, who stares back approvingly.
“It’s time to show my face,” Chuckles Greentop says instead. “If you look behind the door, you will see.”
—–
The Musician took a closer look after the change.
“Lame” was what he was thinking. But then the rest of the face transformed as well. They were frightened all the way back to VHC Town and their safe plaza. Lesson learned!
Sunklands 