Tag Archives: Pitch Darkly^*++++

00390508

Pitch eventually found Wheeler in another one of those Hana Lei lands, specifically designed for kids this go around. And that’s how our Shelley Struthers, now reverted to a child — at least temporarily — got involved.

“What happened to her face?” Pitch asked Shelley after they were able to separate away from Wheeler for some private talk. “It’s like, I don’t know, 2 things superimposed on each other that don’t belong.”

“Yeah, the blonde hair,” Shelley agreed. Then she explained that it went back to when Wheeler was underneath the chocolate all that time, lapping it up like some kind of deranged dog. “Must have done something to her complexion.”

“Hmm,” Pitch said to this. “Shouldn’t she, then, I don’t know, turn *brown* or something?” Not blonde, he additionally thought.

“Might not work like that,” quickly answered small Shelley, already wise way beyond her age. For she wasn’t really she in the hallucination. This is kind of combining several layers into one, smooshing them altogether like a club sandwich in a vise. Thus the picture of the faces in the carnival poseboard, I believe they call them. To illustrate or symbolize the change (another flattening).

But this might be better: Wheeler preparing to take a ride on the Olympia Looping roller coaster, drawn in by the 4 colors of TILE displayed all around. “TILE” she said to the attendant after he asked for her ticket. Jim Crochet Wedding Dress let her ride anyway, little voice in his ear telling him so. The Big Boss, or at least one of the Big Bosses, Wonka I believe. Or Wonky. Wonky like Willa, ha ha. OK, I’ll stop, Wheeler. So getting back to her (always her, never me it seems lately), she takes a ride, but she also calls over a companion. “Arthur, I need you Arthur,” she said in the message accompanying the teleport offer. “I need you more than ever.” Take in what happens when I trip the light fantastic, she added to herself. Because she knew she’d see stars; they were just that bonded by this point. She’d write all this up from the perspective of Edward later on, about 2:01 in the morning, she’s guessing. Always seems to be that or around that.

“What happened to your face?” he asked upon showing up.

“Never mind that, I’ll change before we start looping.” And he got in beside her, ready for a start. With her deformed mug still in place, she kissed.

“I love you Wheeler!” he shouted before the TILE colors even came into play: still on orange. All Orange, as it turned out. The rest was mere refraction from the whole.

Pitch just stood there at the bottom beside Jim, wondering what happened to Shelley as he watched blue turn into red turn into green turn into yellow to end the looping. All grown up again and gone? he wondered. He’d find out soon enough (here come the cars).

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0508, Hana Lei^^

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?

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0507, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File

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.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0505, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File

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.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0503, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File

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.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0501, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File

00390415

“Why from the Abyss,” she answered the hot dog guy, trying to guess the ambiguity. The Christmas look and the green nose didn’t win him over. “Gracious goodness I’ve forgotten the name of this festive thingamabob growing out of my nose,” she said just earlier, talking about it before he did, they all did (in her mind). “Not mistletoe — that’s for hanging *above* your head, not *off* it, ah ha ha ha ha!” Did the laugh convince?

“Well it looks like a big long booger,” he said crudely, and then asked if she wanted relish on her big loong dog. Disgusting. Why did she come out of hiding in the first place? To deal with lowlifes like this beach bum? This nobody? “Where you from? Woman?”

—–

Where indeed? There were *elephants* in her Abyss now, another sign she had to go, along with the rest of the avatar family. Zimmy is obviously Jimy. Jimy Z., gone as sure as Zimmy since he was also dead. Only the symbolic Liverpool plane remains: big red machine, twitch of the Morgan, lumber for a Bench. Red as Rose, another archetype and more obvious. Red Star becomes Old Red Star and is banished from the game he so so loves. They bring in a Foster boy and he turns out to be just as legit as any of ’em. Conception is an error caught between the legs. Perez just is. Geronimo! (and he died) Griffey had a Junior who took control. One through eight complete. Visible compendium. No need to worry about the zero and the nine. They were enough by themselves to carry the team through any troubles, ride it to victory. Never mind who pitches what. What’s the pitch, Pitch? Didn’t matter. They were enough. Biiig lumber.

She went to talk to Willy Wonka in the past present future to give him a piece of her mind, dodging big piles of elephant doo all along the way. They met at the south end of the property, where we’ve been before, CROOKED in clear sight through an opening between palm trees and rocks. “You *don’t* understand,” she complained while indicating. “Those are *historic* buildings over there.” “That *junk*?” he reiterated, trying to think of new and more effective ways to derender all that for his fancy smancy artsy fartsy photos. “It looks like, I don’t know, a giant kid ate a whole bunch of tinker toys and legos and then threw up.” “*Moard* *Ling*”, she kept defending. “You’ll never hold a candle to him… Wonka.” It took a while but she had learned to respect the prolific prim creator, stuck in the past but with lessons to teach. Sometimes the past is better, at least in part, in ways. This is what she learned from Constantynople, soon to be no more here. She was about to have her last pass through it. She spotted the purple garbed guy — another *former* after all, another one living in the past. Why can’t he *see*?

It could have been different.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0415, Colorado, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File

machine, big and red

She turned her back on him while riding, so disgusted she was of the situation. Leaving! We just got here! And so many more fish stories to catch. “What about Philip?” she protested from another angle. “What *library* is he going to find all the whoppers that have been written about *him*? Hmph.”

But of course Pitch, being who he is, had another pitch to deliver. They moved downstairs to continue the game…

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0414, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File

X’s and

Mr. Babyface’s big mouth on his huge head forms an O. He realizes he’s been staring at perfection all this time, volcano at top, familiar green green Xilted and its now grassy fields at the bottom. All answers lie here.

Al temporarily staying over at the Temple of TILE until they get a true custodian of the place was thinking along the same lines. Paradise found. His itchy and scratchy down there has suddenly and, to him, miraculously cleared up, even though it appears to be exacerbated especially by heat and it’s now basically the middle of the summer. Subtract the bit o’ heartburn which he’s not worried about (he’ll adjust his meal again tonight to further pinpoint the issue), he realizes he hadn’t been this healthy in years. From this center of power combining present past future, he wonders what’s next for Shelley, for Arthur and Edward, for Mr. Babyface and whoever shows up to be his companion and sounding board for more Big E/Big Schwa theories in the Kidd Tower, perhaps old lover Greg Ogden (who can still change into green green Gregg Oden when provoked), or maybe nephew Peter Ladd, a cousin of Lamb’s Paul and thus from a different mother, even though they both call Babyface Uncle.

Mr. Babyface has the impression that Shelley and her boat boys will be moving out of the top of Kidd Tower soon, tired of the limited space there. Soon, then, his dining room and his staring chair will be backed by (the map of) Zebrasil not Xilted, as he moves out of W (lower) and X (upper) back to Y (lower) and Z (upper). That’s his hope.

In other locations, Mr. Z has dropped his backpack and its many masks collected over both real and virtual continents in the second floor of Crooked, determined to make it a home too, as well as a space to further the TILE study group he wishes to jump start here in town. The standing yellow ickle just below is sure to follow; another Lamb — and a needed 4th color to balance the other 3, red green blue. We’ll soon see.

But Mr. Z has a journey to make first. He additionally senses he must unite public north and private south into one to make Constantynople and Constance Island as a whole truly fulfilled; be made a *constant*. Myrtle Beech must be visited. And he needs to get the lowdown on the whereabouts of his own cousin Zimmy.

But I forget. Mary, the third member of Lamb to add to Peter (different from Peter Ladd) and Paul, is already here! And so is hubby Pitch Darkly. They’re established at Darkly Manor, their old home from Collagesity back in the days, back when it was set up right next door to the sacred Rubi Woods. Through a transparent upstairs wall they could stare directly into the many linden trees, the cypress 1’s and 2’s, the eucalyptuses, and, most mysterious of course but only occasionally, perhaps only that one time, Unch himself, the fabled 200th tree of the forest, the one that has the ability to uproot itself and go walking about the place. Being a Linden creation and thus supposedly permanent, the forest is still there. Just not Collagesity. The also sacred 97/97/97 spot that once united Collagesity directly with VHC City on the same continent of Heterocera is protected from alteration, i.e., terraforming from the outside, the thing which ruined the parallel 97/97/97 in VHC City, psychically uncoupling the 2 burgs.

And what of Shelley? *She* is from that same diagonal line crossing the continent, its very tip top in fact in Hooktip, a suburb of VHC City — 135/135/135. Another perfection, it seems. Mr. Babyface is huffing and puffing on his recently purchased Blue Pennant tobacco by way of Hana Lei which replaced inferior Red Dragon, still staring, still preparing in his mind. Won’t be long now.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0206, Constantynople, Heterocera, Jeogeot, Kidd Tower, Nautilus, Rank & File, Rubi^, Temple of TILE, VHC City^, Xilted

“Doorpick”

“User,” he said, pointing. He knew who I was. Did I? Am I still Baker Bloch in the game we play that is Our Second Lyfe? Is that my primary avatar still?

Anyway, thanks to Pearl Grey for including this work in her most recent Wanderlust Art Truck show! Pearl’s blog here:

https://millionhappyendings.wordpress.com/

And you can teleport directly to the exhibit here:

http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Ashenlave/199/61/63

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0508, Ashenlave^, collages 2d, Corsica

fishy

“So how long you going to keep up this ruse? *Pitch*.”

“As long as it takes,” he replies generically, shifting his long legs nervously again. “Do (he indicates behind him), do these *people* have to follow you everywhere you go?”

“The Eightyeights? Of course. You know that.” She paused, thinking about what to say next. “Bad luck to stare at the ocean this time of day, though, they believe. Have to face away. Like the bear.”

“Ted?” He dares to glance back in its direction, centered in the sandy passageway that runs between the two halves of Sunklands Institute.

Another pause. “We can call him that. Or her.”

“What’s with this Tiki curse anyway?… riddling the town. Saddling it.”

Wheeler paused longer this time and decided not to even answer Baker Bloch, currently disguised as thought-to-be obsolete VHC City originating vampire Pitch Darkly. Married to Mary instead of Wheeler. The reason for his being.

“You can’t keep postponing the inevitable,” she said after staring into the hateful ocean for a while, bright in the fairy blue light. The light of the Devil, some say. 10:01. The Eightyeights couldn’t handle it, thus the turning. Wheeler was, in contrast, soaking it all in. Pitch was just glancing all around, shifting his feet and legs and arms. And glowing eyes. “You’ll wake up next to Mary one morning, perhaps one much like this one, and realize she’s just a symbol of something bigger. ‘Mary me,’ I said so long ago that I can’t recall where and how.”

“Boston?” Pitch said, and then corrected himself. “No, not Boston.”

“Not Miami,” Wheeler also offered. They both sat there, trying to remember the circumstances surrounding the event. It was also the day he met Mary; he did recall that. Reel reel reeling them in. Just like now.

“Caught another one!” she cried gleefully just over at the newly placed dock.

“Wonderful dear! A *whopper* this time!” he observed.

“Just like your story,” Wheeler hissed over through folded hands.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0507, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File, Wild West