Tag Archives: Paciman~~$

Cpt. Munch

Yeah, I’m here, she says to the Star Trek teleporter crew in her mind. Still walking.

Oh look, there’s Star Wars’ Rutti-tutti robot in a space age mish-mash. What next? Lost in Space?

… Lost in Space, yeah. But maybe I saw it out of the corner of my eye, heh.

She stops walking. She turns to the second robot she’s encountered in this here pyramid dominated area. “Can you tell me where *Marilyn* is? The president’s concubine, in your time. Just kidding. It’s Roosevelt, Marilyn Roosevelt. But not the same president (in the joke). Or… maybe it is.” She ponders how Lichen got the last name in the first place, and, by association, her own. What a wit!

No answer from the robot. He seems to have lost his powers of function.

Still in the pyramid: “I’ll check with Howard on that,” a pill shaped robot (robot?) squeakily and waveringly answered Fern Stalin’s rephrasing of her original question, which went: “How do I find The Void?” Because Marilyn/Lichen was most likely there, or as close as possible to the despicable, object-less Abyss. She’s trying so hard, Fern though here. If only she had my brains.

“We’ve met before, BTW,” the thing said to Fern while texting this Howard, perhaps a workmate. They could be maintenance mechanoids because of the overalls, Fern rationalizes. Had she not heard of minions? But perhaps she is toying with us, the reader and also the writer, in this case. Probably (again). There are toys after all; a play on words.

The minion kept typing and typing but never got back to Fern. No answer from Howard apparently, or nothing the creature wanted to share, if Howard is even real. Fern moves on, down the stairs to the other side of this, er, space platform…

… to a game that should *definitely* not be played because this was actually a representation of The Void again, the power behind the powers.

It eats thoughts like it’s breakfast lunch and dinner all at once. Maybe the Tilists were onto something with the switching around of meals.

Back to the teleporter, and quickly. Marilyn/Lichen’s presence lies elsewhere in Gemini retconned from Mercury. We’ll get to that aspect in a moment.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0502, Gemini, Hana Lei^^

Beauty rests

She was still sleeping when the sun rose…

… the book of dreams opened up behind her.

What would it have in store for the great Horned being today?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0409, Hana Lei^^

good luck?

You’ll have to dip more than your feet in this TILE Pool to get use to the South, Dream Tessa. Rains down hard there! The rain with the pain, ooouuuch.” Ghost Pac-man reminded me of someone. And also someone else yellow; a rivalry, yes.

‘*There*. If you’re submerged you can’t feel the pain. Let it go, let it all go, the tension, the weight of the world.” The pool was just big enough, head to foot. Like a fitted coffin. Let’s hope the analogy stops there.

Tessa wakes up, gasping and grasping her throat in an attempt to breathe. After she regained her wits she looked about the room and noticed the umbrellas. Lisa the Vegetarian had delivered, as promised. Time to go. No more dreams: reality.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0024, 0514, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^

Comedian

“Were you seen, Jupiter?”

Jupiter? But Groover remembered who he was at the core. Jupiter, yes. “I don’t think so.” He thought back to the visit by Tickie this morning, intent on finding him and taking him back to an aspiring cryptozoologist in his hometown for study and perhaps fame and fortune, or so the Undertaker said. For he is the illusive, the one and only Knob Noster! Well, there were three of us, counting the wife and the kid. He needs to send them a postcard.

“What about the other fellow, the Man About Town it said in his outfit description? I wonder: *what* town? The same as Tickie’s? They didn’t seem to know each other that well. Did they?” She turned her scowling face toward Groover, wishing reciprocation.

“MAT, yes. I mean, no. They didn’t seem to know each other that well. He must be in on it. Why would he come to the Game Room to meet with him otherwise. Certainly not to play *Pac-man*.”  Jupiter/Groover here makes an imitation of a pac-man gobbling up ghosts and the like with his pac-man-like mouth. Understanding the Anti-Bart reference, Olive Oylstick still finds it only mildly funny. More is afoot now. She stares out again at the… tree? Is that what this is in the space formerly occupied by the House of Joy?

Groover gasps. “There it is again (!). Sideways.”

Olive Oylstick had an insight. “Do that thing with your mouth again you just did.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0023, 0616, Bellisaria, Four Corners

Anti-Bart

He listened in open mouthed amazement, like always.

“I don’t know, Groover,” he put it mildly but seriously. “I’m just not feeling it yet in…” He considered the name of the place, the village. But not a village. A community. Centered around Blues. He stared at his blue companion; decided to ask him about a name. “What do you locals call this, um, neighborhood?”

Groover stared back, also considering a name. He hadn’t thought of it before. A list developed in his mind, Thirteensboro at the top. Unlucky Village? But 13 is a good number according to TILE tarot reader Marsha Slot, due to arrive at quarter past the hour to start her shift in the next room over. We should wait for her, Groover realized. He told this to Man About Time (MAT).

—–

The front door opened and closed. A woman’s footsteps were heard going into the other room. “There she is,” MAT said over in his soft tone with raised eyebrows, and they got up to go get her first reading of the day. MAT had 50 lindens. He hoped that was enough, because he knew Groover never carried around cash with him. No pockets.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0023, 0613, Bellisaria, Four Corners

Bart Smipson

He dared to skate right across main street in broad daylight coming back from the Giant Tiger when he spotted it to his right.

“Whoa ho ho. A new arcade! How could I have *missed* this before??” Naturally he pulled in and started checking out the games.

“Pac-Man. Laaame, pheh.”

“But *Doom*, he he. Yeah, this is what we’re talking about. Wait till I tell… wait, what’s the name of my best friend? Millgate. Yeah, that’s it. Wait till I tell Millgate.”

He plays Doom for several hours and becomes so immersed that when he finishes he is in a different world.

“Whooooa. What happened to *Picturetown*??”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0023, 0601, Black Ice, Canada/Picturetown, NWES Island^

teeth

Preston Weston heard his own voice on the tape his father was viewing. “Hey Dad?”

“Yes Son,” slouching Craighead Phillips Option 01 said from the couch.

“Whatcha watching, heh?”

“Oh, just your school play you put on last year. Can’t get enough of it.” He chuckles at something his son said on the videotape, currently playing the role of Hamlet.

“Cool, cool, heh.”

There was silence between the two as Dad watched act 01 scene 03 unfold.

“Hey Son. There’s Felicia Mae Appletree. Didn’t you have a thing for her (mother) last year?”

“Yeah, heh, a thing,” returns Preston Weston, thinking: duh, still a thing, Dad.

“What did you use to say about her? — so cute.”

“Geez, I don’t know, Dad.” Pacman level 3 had just been reached by eating the last red ghost.

“Yeah, he he, I remember. You said, that apple tree needs shaking, Dad.”

“Right. I remember.” A new ghost appears, new apple color. Green this time.

More silence as each are engrossed in their respective activities. Then Craighead Phillips abruptly switches off the new colored TV his wife bought just this afternoon. “Well, I’m satisfied with the product, Preston. How do you like the new colored monitor we bought in tandem, eh? 1/2 price on each. What a deal.”

“It’s, er, *great* Dad. Never knew there were more than two shades of ghosts. All these colors, heh!”

“Okay, we’re both satisfied. Let’s go tell your mother.”

“Oh, heh. Mom always goes out at about this time to the bridge club.”

“Oh… well, um, let’s get something to eat, eh? Little snack before supper?”

—–

“I’m on my dessert already and you haven’t even hardly touched your sandwich yet. What gives?”

“Oh, a little belly ache I suppose, heh.” Preston Weston forces himself to take another bite of the BLT before him, knowing that his mama would fix a full meal only about an hour later that he would be *required* to finish.

“How was school today? I forgot to ask earlier.”

“Fine, Dad. Thanks for picking me up,” he said with a mouthful.

“You’re welcome.” *slurp*

“How’s, er, mom’s mouse?”

“That’s mousse, Son. And it’s fine.” *slurp*. “Almost perfect, actually.”

“Oh right. Mousse, like the animal moose. Not a mouse, hehe, heh.”

“Right Son.” *double slurp* “Well, I’m done. Guess it’s time to go.”

“You heading back to — where, heh, did you say you came from today?”

“Athlone Village. In the middle of it all, which is — go ahead and say it with me, Son.”

“Which is unfortunately in the way,” they utter in tandem, Preston Weston rather reluctantly, tired of the old saying.

—–

“What time did your father leave today, Preston Weston?” Her voice suddenly had that edge to it. Father talk edge.

“Oh, heh. Um, about 4 I guess. Maybe, heh, closer to 5?”

“Bridge time, then, hmm,” Your Mama dismissed.

Preston Weston wanted to ask his mother if that bridge would ever get built but resisted the urge.

She turned to her other son, in the chair. “How about you Robin? When did *you* get home from the wilds? Did you also see your father?”

I’m not his son, he thought. “Oh, about 5 as well. Must have just missed him, sorry.” He wasn’t sorry.

They all kept watching “Leave it to Beav” in living color after this. Starring: the Beav.

“Look Ma,” Preston Weston indicated. “Like *me*!”

He was suddenly inside the TV set again, 3 hours lost.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0506, Maebaleia/Satori, Pipersville/Sink X^