Tag Archives: PLUCKED

00490408 (simulation too)

“No, not *those* apples, Mrs. Extra Ordinary. Because you are.”

She blushed through the anger, turning her cheeks a deep, winesap 2 times red. She throws the apple just picked away. It clunks into the grass beyond the tree, bouncing and rolling several feet beyond its landing spot. Poison, she understood, eyeing it from perhaps 20 feet away now. Or too close for comfort. She brings the basket of the already plucked fruit over for me to look at too.

“How about these?”

“1 bad, all bad,” I say, thinking I see the first malignant worm wriggling amongst the batch despite not trying too hard. “Here, take my hand Let’s get you out of here.”

She hesitated. “W-what about the pie? The pie I’m suppose to cook for…” She turned to the 3 story, 5 bedroom, green with white trim house with attached double garage and rental loft. She couldn’t remember the name of her husband. She looked for him amongst the many windows hoping his figure would jar her memory… no one home. She also couldn’t remember the year she bought the house, the year, period. Paradise, but false in nature?

“The pie can wait until a better place,” I say, still holding the hand out. Will this work? I think. I had to try.

—–

“How could you not remember you were married to the sheriff of Fox County? I’m the most important man around (!).”

“I know. It was just a silly dream.” Still she wondered what would have happened if she would have taken that hand, be led somewhere else.

There. The apples are washed. No worms or other abnormalities spotted. Silly dream.

“I’ll be back in 2 hours for that pie,” he said while standing, have other matters to attend to in the meantime. Important matters for an important person. She knew her place. (TBC?)

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00490106 (speed limit)

“Oh I hate removing all these beautiful decorations and then taking down the tree. Can’t we keep it up for a while longer, Frank Lynn? Please? Pretty please?”

“I told you, dawg,” he said while continuing to finger the difficult Spongeberg invention, #3 he was working on this particular day I believe. Full of Middle C’s in an attempt by the composer to make the path more clear, but still a very windy and twisty journey indeed. One he still can’t fully navigate to its end. “We don’t have to take the tree down until New Year arrives,” he continued his explanation.

“But… Nada is arriving at 7. For our dinner. Philip and Nada together. Two teams.”

“Frank stops playing, pivots in his bench to look over at his own (new-ish) girlfriend Daisy, realizes the mistake made.

“*No*, not *Nada* New Year. Just the New Year — dawg. The first of the year. It’s tradition that you don’t have to take down Christmas trees — for most people — until New Year’s Day the week after Christmas.”

Daisy stands back, gold ornament still in hand and not the collecting box. “Oh,” is all she could say, and proceeds to hang it on the same limb she retrieved it from not 30 seconds ago. “Good,” she said while putting more on formerly plucked. “Good good good.”

—–

“Where’s he now?” Daisy asks about Frank’s oft times visitor Dr. Mouse. Like House but different.

“Place called Linesville PA,” Frank answers from across the table. They’d finished eating (salmon and brown rice and mixed vegetables, yum!). Now time for leisurely chatting before cards (bridge? rook? Mille Bornes even?), catching up with all the latest local news and stuff. “He’s wondering why it’s so close to the PA-OH line,” Frank continued, “about 5 miles if I remember correctly, but not named for that. He’s also indicated Glenn Islands next to Ford Island in the same area and something about the possibility of watching a lot of Glenn Ford movies when he gets back, hogging my video feed again, pheh. Maybe time to think about that 2nd screen?”

“I’ll chip in,” chips in Philip to his right, partner Nada New Year across from him as Daisy is to Frank.

“Well thanks, Philip. Nice of you to offer. But as I recall, you didn’t bring any actual money over after your, er, *conversion* from Alamo to Nawt Vaya here.” Unlike me, was the unstated jab; Frank planned his metaverse jumping quite a bit more carefully. “That’s why you live with Lexi.”

“Oh,” says Philip to this, remembering that fact. “Right. Which reminds me. Nada you got a tener you can loan me for a while? Need to pay off Frank for my bets the last time we played. Right Frank?” And he hits Frank’s nearest shoulder with his fist — pretty hard. Because he’s pretty mad about it. “Good to, how you say, *square* up before we start, huh?”

“Keep it, dawg,” he says while glancing at Nada, who remained silent, maybe even looked a little sleepy. Was she up for this tonight? “I — again — appreciate the thought.”

“Okay, good. Great — that’s great. Even steven, then. Soo… what’ll it be tonight? Rook?” Philip was always up for a game of rook, his favorite. But Daisy preferred bridge and Nada and Frank preferred Mille Bornes, at least for tonight just to keep things fresh. So the majority wins and Mille Bornes it was. Philip mumbled something about preparing to lose again since it wasn’t *his* game, but then dealt the first hand and started to get quite into it before the end.

—–

“Nada, can you loan me a twenty?” he said as discussion of cards was brought up the next week after another delicious meal (poached eggs, steamed green beans, something bread related) and catching up with local news and such. Frank was just that good — naturally. Let’s call him a card savant although I know that term is usually reserved for precocious children(?). If only Spongeberg came so easily. TBC

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00440513

It was right here where his ship landed years ago, perhaps 5 now, which would be about 42 or 43 years for him I suppose, given the 1 : 8 1/2 year conversion between Earth time and Our Second Lyfe time. Volcanic Zebrasil-Ichelus was and is the island, a well known landmark (infohub) to old timey Our Second Lyfe residents like me and perhaps like you. His robot parents were destroyed by hostile native glytches shortly after arrival but he survived by hiding in the bushes situated just here there and there, his littler body not detected by the marauding mutants, diminutive themselves but bad of eyesight. Then, not too long afterwards, vacationing adventurist Sugar Demossville, a brightly hued, small dinosaur who ran the eponymous Sugar Shack over in nearby Big Woods at the time, scooped up his little robot body found on an inner tube in the offshore water (glytches don’t like water, he’d found out in the meantime; too late to save his parents, though) and took him back home to the mainland with her. Since Sugar was red and green herself, just like Billy’s safe haven inner tube, she deemed it fate that he join her in the woods and live out the rest of his natural mechanical life there with her. But it was Sugar herself who died first from a stimulus induced heart attack brought on by one too many pieces of pecan and cherry pies at once several years later (2? 17?), freshly plucked from 2 of Big Woods’ many pie trees and too delicious to resist gluttonously gobbling down that fateful morning in late April’s May despite the warnings from her 2 doctors not to double up on the sugars like she did with her physicians. She was survived by mate Donald the Thong, a man-sized, almost naked duck to complement Sugar’s woman-sized, totally naked dinosaur — very tall but still within range, let’s say. He couldn’t deal with, let’s say again, Billy’s hypersomnia where his constant sleeping blended day and night until he couldn’t tell one from the other. “What time is it?” he’d ask now mate-less Donald. Then 5 minutes later, “What time is it?” “Five minutes after you asked the last time, little Billy,” Donald originally said to things like this but patience gradually wore away like his clothes did before (thanks Venus!), soon leading to harsh replies like, “You’re *clockwork*, Billy. You can’t tell time??” Time for Billy to be sent away himself, not to the Land of Death like Sugar thankfully but still regrettably to a robot orphanage over in Lesters Best, with many similar stories of eroded owner patience in the air, mostly for other kinds of conditions but with one in particular sounding very much like his own: that of Sally’s, who turned out to be the love of his life and the light in his eyes, particularly after the brain meld. What fortune, what fate! (once more!). He would never be left in the dark again.


Billy revisiting his “homeland”.


Billy staring over at his red and green inner tube, his safe haven until Sugar rescued him from this hellish landscape which took the lives of his parents (additional note: the glytches have meanwhile been rounded up and taken care of).

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