Tag Archives: MORGAN/MORGAINE

December 29, 2021 · 10:37 pm

01-

On a tip from someone in Squared Root City, she decided to confront them, this bigoted “Annaberg” audience, in a private public post. “Who are you!?” they cried from their respective positions after she had assumed not quite front and center stage but a viewing nonetheless. “A witch?! What bedevilment is this??!!” They studied her from their angles in the half darkness. Since red was involved, some of them wondered if this was the ancient hagg Morgan returned to them, who also goes by Morgaine and other similar words. They shuddered at the thought. They’d all read the legends, good and bad.

She realized they wouldn’t recognize her — in the present — without her beret on. She changed/she turned. The light on her face increased, emphasizing it over the rest. “You!!??” they cried even louder, seeing before them now the white woman associated with raspberries who loves black. “What *is* this??!!” they demanded.

“I am presenting myself to you as I am. One who has been tested for alien powers and abilities. One who is indeed part alien, as witnessed by my pink-ish skin, at least in comparison to you lot. One who has a vertical and a horizontal line up top. One who has a cylinder at the bottom, several in fact. One who has the colorful markings of a modern, because I am also that. I have fish, I have butterflies, I have hearts, I have writing, I have rings and stars, I have designs of odd origin. I am… me.”

This *is* Morgan, some had determined, since the red remained in the lone shoe on her feet, the left and not the right. And they were not wrong.

One also being tested dared to approach her through the mistletoed entrance with luckily a Julia and not a Julian, or else all would be too upset to continue watching and return home to view current black and white reruns of “I Love Lucifer” and such. They danced in complete sync as if on a granite hilltop between two sims. Then the N was regained and all went to hell. The bell was back.

“Let’s meet at your place instead,” past Hucka Doobie determined.

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December 19, 2021 · 8:43 am

34th Street

“I’m just saying you haven’t been the same, since… since…”

“Cincinnati. Just say it.”

“Bench.”

“I know,” he interrupted again, knowing the story all too well.

“It was a lot of lumber!”

“He deserved it.” Silence for a bit, then: “I guess we’re going to talk about Rose next. The *ul-timate* Red.”

She shook her head. “No. No, I’m just saying…”

“It was the frigg’n Metz!” he exclaimed, finally raising his voice on the subject, as he almost always does. “How would I know, a MIRACLE would occur?”

“It,” she tried to calm him down, “was… a long time ago.”

“Not in my nogg’n.” He knocked on his head. It made a hollow sound. Lumber again. Bench would get his revenge. “The whole *team*, was jinxed. Just look at their names. Rose, pheh. Bench, *huff*. Perez… well that one was kind of normal. But *Morgan*.”

“Now dearest, why don’t we wrap up some more presents,” she distracted again. “Then afterwards, afterwards…” She dangled her leg seductively. No need to think about 69 any longer. *That* 69.  It was often the only way to get him to shut up about it once he started. Now the other leg joined the first: two danglers. Would he take the bait?

—–

“Tom… SEEVER!” he said to end. Always the same.

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December 10, 2021 · 9:57 am

marina (new killer star)

He figured this was his boat since he had the keys. And the Maebaleia battle flag. Was he finally heading home, away from *here*? He needed to get off this island at least. He knew that. But where? So many ports of call on this aptly named continent of Nautilus. He might as well be a submarine and attack it from the rear. But he was a woman’s man, he recalls. He had a sister.

She let him go. She’d read in the script she was suppose to do this but he didn’t know that, not quite yet. He’d received the pink April copy that morning in the post and she’d already gotten the July blue, with white between them. He wasn’t even in-between, as if stuck on one side of a flag. At least he wasn’t sitting in back and it flapping and slapping him, like poor Zach Black, still without his Jazz Attack, also thanks to Fern. Fern was *real* smart if you didn’t get that part, that role. Because you probably couldn’t. I’d give it at least a 145 to comprehend and play accurately. Sarah I think was the actor’s name, with Jody playing Marilyn, a somewhat lesser challenge. But that was all a long time ago now. I was a different person, a mere child in comparison.

The old and white man had a task, he knew this. To get the hell out of Dodge. West might be best since East is least. Little did he know that Fern Stalin would be waiting for him there as well.

(to be continued)

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December 10, 2021 · 8:48 am

a state of being timeless

“Avalon,” he said without turning, remaining old and gray instead of black and white. The Room would always be his center, another Box come to think of it. Trapped.

“Yeah,” ditzy blonde Marilyn says back to him, still cleaning that glass, almost wearing it out like with sandpaper now. She should think of another task to perform. She’s stuck as if in a rut. But at least her mouth, her *mind* is still working forward. As well as backwards. “Some say Our Second Lyfe started here — in Dex — instead of Babylon.”

“Whore of Babylon,” he responded. “There *is* no Whore of Babylon.” He should know since he was there. “It’s all… make-believe.” He said it with disgust, she thought. He’s bitter about something else. A hidden truth. He could have done the deed as well as young Travis, she gleaned. If circumstances were different. She turned.

He assumed the position of a man, she a woman.

“You know, I had a sister once,” he started his confession on that late April day on the 4th of July.

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December 10, 2021 · 8:18 am

Old and White

The wheels in his mind kept spinning. I’m in Dex, he thought rapidly. But in olden days this island, this *town*, was named Avalon according to that map over there on the wall, not too far from (the Isle of) Babylon but also: not too close. A gap between, but Smaller Water instead of Bigger Water. He had to prepare. The past meets the future and it’s not pretty. Pink (or red) does not bode well for a man. He’d been tested. Red it was. The lipstick remained. He could not remove it now, however hard he tried.

“Try again,” W. urged from the side, still just out of sight, of reach. He could only talk to her as if via phone.

She remained black and white as she twirled and whirled, like a rotisserie chicken in the Wild West of Nautilus, he believed, beyond the reach of phone. Hurry up, he thought, rid of the lipstick for now but not for long. This was a battle of Madam and I’m Adam. He turns.

At least Marilyn is here. Sing us that national anthem again, dearest.

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January 25, 2020 · 11:02 am

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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March 25, 2019 · 6:22 am

a one and a two

“So this is where Old Mabel performs her Hannah Montana routine, huh,” spoke Baker Blinker, not touching her breakfast yet.

“Go ahead,” urged Baker Bloch, seeing his female counterpart’s hesitation. “The Bennington experiment eggs are the best. So tasty. I’m on my second helping.”

“Umm. I think I’ll pass. Thanks for the food, though. It just smells a little — off to me.”

“Bennington eggs? No way. They ship them in fresh every day. I hear the delivery truck rattle down main street every morning promptly at 5:00am. Or so.”

“From your home of Darkly Manor?” the female Baker attempts to clarify. “You *are* Pitch Darkly here in Collagesity. That’s where you live.”

“Err. Yeah, I suppose.” Baker Bloch was trying to understand how all that worked. He had memories of being the bloodied vampire originally from VHC City, and lots of them. Marriage to Mary Greentop. Construction of Darkly Manor to lure him to Collagesity from VHC City when the latter finally became impossible to live in. But how could he lure himself? He must be in two places at once.

“Well I’m all ears now. Convince me — and Karoz — to come back. Now that our coup didn’t work.”

“As you’ve described, it worked for one shining moment.”

“Morgan, yeah. But then — in the same spot even…”

“I know. Karoz lost the wrestling match again. Or won it — something.”

“But you’re right. We had it for a moment.” A climax, she thought, but didn’t say aloud. Then: droop all around. Julian reduced to Julia; loss of “N”. AlmaNoz separated out to Alma and Oz. But where did the “N” go? she pondered. Was the one time enough to lure them back? Like the good ol’ days?

“Two places,” Baker Blinker started the compromise in earnest. “We’ll have to have two places to live.”

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March 23, 2019 · 8:13 am

hair today…

“Black, white, blue, red, gray. You cannot get rid of me that easily, Baker Bloch. Nor Opp.”

“I know. The alchemy.”

“Yes. I am powerful still. Most powerful. Occident must work with Orient. There is no other way now. Physicality wanes, but mentally we can remain strong, even up to the end. And mental ultimately rules physical. *Creates* physical.”

“What about emotional?” Baker Bloch spoke from his own bench beside the cyan fountain. The Fountain of Morgan Mountain. Or Julia Mountain. Half and half.

“We’ll see about that,” Wheeler answers.

—–

Hucka Doobie was studying collages in Collagesity again and catching up in general. “The Hand of Opp,” she gasps while standing in front of Stonethrow 08.

She examines the corner it makes with 09.

Could I walk into this collage? Hucka ponders while looking at the inviting road. All the way back to Stonethwaite? The road flickers again.

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March 18, 2019 · 7:44 am

SIDney

“What is this place, Baker B.?”

“Morgan. Morgan, and, over there at the bell, Julia.”

“Hmm,” offered Hucka Doobie the bee person. “Let’s meet at your place instead.”

—–

“Yes, I can feel it.” Hucka Doobie checks his inworld map for the general lay of the new diagonal, this “Heart Line” Diagonal. “Where was the spinning train?”

Baker Bloch checks as well. “Umm, Velox. Two sims up from us. We’re in Sabulella. Between Velox and Sabulella is Vashti. Beyond Velox is Webworm, Polia, Ufeus…”

“I get the picture,” interrupted the bee person. “I was called in because you finally, *finally*, got in over your head.”

“Well…” Baker Bloch started to protest.

“But you did,” Hucka Doobie completed matter-of-factly. She tried to turn toward the interior of the Tao Lodge they sat just outside of but found she couldn’t pivot her head. “Let’s get up,” she rather commanded. “Let’s go look at the painting that prompted you to give me a call. *Finally.*”

—–

“Here’s another Dali painting I missed before.”

“I don’t think that’s a Dali,” proffered Hucka Doobie, walking up. “Let’s go see the real Dali.”

—–

“Just around the corner here, Hucka Doobie. Tigertail, Stinger, Chick all in one.”

“Hold on, Baker B. I’m seeing something else in this one.”

—–

“A map. A map that freaked you out, grid lines running all over the place. What has this dude been up to? you asked yourself upon reading his profile. Chick, Tigertail, Stinger…”

“Yes.”

“But the chick is the elephant, and not the chick on the ground. Gala. Dali’s muse of course.”

“The chick is the elephant,” Baker Bloch reaffirmed.

—–

“A nice fire. A laughing monk. What next, Baker B.?”

“I think you know what’s next.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

—–

“It really was all my fault, Martha my dear. I was overthinking the situation.”

“Think nothing of it. The Diagonal was being misused and you stepped in, just as you should.”

“But this one is different.”

“Yes.”

“Soooo…”

—–

“Who’s going to tell the children, Sid?”

“We’ll do it… together.”

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March 12, 2019 · 6:19 am

AlmaNoz

“I will come back,” spoke Karoz at the Table again. “But we must start to focus on TILE once more. Occident. I am a high TILE priest after all. And: bite it Wheeler.”

But Wheeler Wilson was still holding and using the cell phone. “I can’t seem to get a hold of Hucka Doobie, Karoz. Could she be… dead?”

“Doubtful. She’s in Gaston. Right?”

“Yes,” Baker Bloch answers for Wheeler.

Wheeler finally gives up on reaching Hucka Doobie for the night; puts away the phone. She crosses her legs and leans toward the blue-green being. “Okay, Karoz. Tell us all about TILE, then.”

—–

Later:

“I’d pretty much say it’s exactly your color,” bee person Hucka Doobie declared to her old friend Karoz at this Treasure Hill representing the heart of the Orient, its apex. Its climax if you will. Hucka Doobie looked around again. “Both Morgan and Julia sides.”

“Then this must be about me. And also Baker Blinker,” spoke the wise cyan guy. “Okay, we’ll return. Obviously mum’s the word about our meeting here.”

Hucka Doobie made a zipping motion over her slightly pollen covered lips.

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