Tag Archives: Pretty Man

center>centre

“Uh huh.” More buzzing/squeaking from the floor. “I see.”

“What’s she saying?” asked a slumping Broken Heart from the other couch. She was pretty stoned.

“Hold on a minute.” Tina speaks again in her minute, tinny voice, understandable only to Jacob I. in the room. Perhaps it is because he’s closer to her, however, or just actually paying attention. The lawnmower continues to interact with the tiny being. “Alright, I guess we can do that.” Tina replies. “No, we don’t have the equipment or manpower for that, Tina.” After a small pause, Tina squeaks and buzzes for about 30 seconds more. “You take care as well, friend.” She scoots rapidly across the floor and out the door.

“So… what’s she saying?” queries Broken Heart again while remaining in a slumping position. She didn’t even realize Tina had left the scene.

“Jeffrie Phillips, that’s what,” replied a frowning Jacob I. “Centre,” he added.

—–

15 minutes earlier in Gaston’s Central Park, Pretty Man puts on the green ring. Everything changes.

“Over here, punk,” he calls to Earie Chuck after the deed is done. “I made a small detour.”

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Filed under Gaston, Purden/Snowlands, Sansara, Second Life

trailers and chairs

Earie was walking past the red, blue and yellow chairs positioned in front of the art trailer when he heard Pretty Man snoring. At first he couldn’t tell what the sound was, but then a loud, pig-like grunt firmly indicated to him the presence of another human being. He moved toward the trailer’s dark interior and watched the folded body on the dirty mattress and rugs within heave up and down a minute, sometimes with a twitch. This guy was obviously in deep dreamland. Shame to wake him, Earie thinks, and decides to move onward through Central Park to the Joint Joint, where Jacob I. and Broken Heart Jackie were most likely waiting. But with an even louder grunt, Pretty Man then rolls over on his other side and opens his eyes. “Don’t pull a knife on me, friend. I ain’t dangerous.”

“Sit up, then, and let’s take a look at you,” the pink haired punk commanded. He didn’t have a knife on him currently, but two pistols were tucked in the back of his belt. Pretty Man sat up and started looking all around, as if in a haze. “Art is everywhere,” he then said. “In the sky, in my hands.” He looked at his hands. “In your hair.” He gazed at Earie’s mohawk. “*Especially* in your hair. Where you from, fellow dude?”

Earie had concluded this person was obviously stoned on something. He definitely *wasn’t* going to tell him where he lived in town. So he made up a place. “Butcher shop,” he said. “Upstairs.”

“Ah, Wanesa the Slasher. And I didn’t know her shop had an upstairs… thought they cut that off back in the 30’s.” Pretty Man stared at Earie’s head again. “Your mohawk thinks you’re lying,” he said, and then laid back down on the old mattress in the trailer and started to laugh, face upwards and arms spread. Earie wondered if he could tell just by the tone of his voice or if he’s one of those true psychics. Their services are more expensive than the whores. Sometimes you can get a two for one deal at a discount, but he’s only heard about such things; Earie doesn’t engage with Gaston’s Berry imports if he can help it. And, gandering at Pretty Man’s current pose, this led to the another thought: that this *man* in front of him could be a woman in disguise. He’s never heard of a male psychic. Or a male prostitute, at least around these parts.

“What’s your business, here, partner?” Earie inserted amidst the continued chuckles. He voiced some of his suspicions. “Man whore? Man *psychic*?”

Pretty Man’s laughter petered away, and he dismissed Earie’s guesses with a wave of his hand. He sat up again. He stood up out of the trailer, looking in the direction of Earie’s Yellow House. Does he know already? Earie pondered. He briefly goes around the trailer’s corner and comes back with a cup of coffee, steaming hot somehow. He sits down in the red chair. Earie just stares at him, wondering if he should take a seat as well.

But then Pretty Man pops back up and states, “this isn’t the right chair,” and then looks at his coffee. “And this is not the right drink, pheh.” He spits the beverage he just partook of out on the road beside him. Pretty Man goes around the corner of the trailer again, returning with a beer bottle this time and hops back up in the trailer, leaning against the wall. “The red one is not mine,” he reinforces. “That’s… what’s his name?” Earie gets tingles. He *must* know.

Pretty Man moved to the edge of the trailer again and looked directly into Earie’s face. “Chro-ma,” he pronounced distinctly. “Sit down in your *yellow* chair, and let’s have a talk Earie,” he then said to the stunned punk. “And of course I’ll take my blue one.”

Improvio.

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Filed under Gaston, Second Life, Uncategorized

pretty things

“Bucket of nails,” requests Wilson to Terry. “And make it bloody.”

“Ahem,” intercedes Baker Bloch. “Not open yet, Wilson. Sorry.”

“Yeah, sorry,” echoes Terry. He tries to size up his new potential customer, but can’t quite make out what’s the deal-i-o. Baker helps.

“So you’re a man again,” he states to Wilson.

“Yeah. A pretty man. Let me show you. You haven’t seen yet.”

“Just a glimpse at the police station. How’s Burt the Cop doing?”

“Brutus?” replies Wilson. “Prostitute problems as usual. Gastons’s filled with them, even choking on them. Berries. Cherry, Raspberry, Blueberry. Lemon. Yes, Berry is fully intertwined with Gaston. You knew Lemon on Mars didn’t you?”

“I did,” states Baker, thinking back fondly to his stay in futuristic INSCO. “Have you seen her? She ran around with Sugar then, but wasn’t a prostitute (like her) at the time. Circumstances must have changed. Science is getting tough to swallow for many.”

“I’m not sure she’s really a whore there,” says Wilson. “She could be undercover. Brutus hinted at so much. Purple Gang. Burt Lake Band. Crooked.”

“Oden, then,” responds Baker.

“Yeah. Have you seen him?”

“Old Gregg?”

“Right.”

“Maybe a glimpse as well at Morrison. Rockabilly Cafe. But we’re done filming there.” He pauses. “And you haven’t shown me the new face yet.”

Wilson changes.

“That’s way too pretty, man,” Baker offers. “For a man. How about a scar? What do you think Terry?”

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Filed under Heterocera, Rubi, Second Life, Uncategorized

prep

“Terry. I’m glad you’re here already.”

“Yup. Mr. R. sent me ahead to set up the place, make sure all the correct drinks are loaded up, (and) so on. We’re playing cards later tonight. On the clock, of course.”

“Of course,” Baker Bloch responds.

“Sorry we don’t quite have our license nailed down in Minoa yet,” the green fire-ickle states.

“Perfectly all right. Just checking to see how things were going.”

“Mr. R. should be here by the end of the month, first of next month at the latest, Mr. Bloch.”

“Baker, please.”

“Mr. Baker. Mr. B.” Terry emits that cool clicking sound with his mouth again and points. Baker is a bit smitten himself. Such a groovy dude.

—–

“Norum,” Wilson Wheeler says. “This is the place.”

“And there is the man.”

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Filed under Heterocera, Rubi, Second Life, Uncategorized

forests

Looks like some big ta’doin’s going on at Chelsea for the Halloween season, but Baker feels it’s not his place to go down and investigate. He’s for all practical purposes banned from the Sister sim of VHC City, if not physically then psychologically and philosophically, he feels. He allied himself with alter-ego and ancient town vampire Pitch Darkly and is now suffering the consequences. Fellow former VHC City vampire Buster Damm cannot return either, but has less of a desire to do so. Pitch wants to come back; enjoy the alternate reality where his “Pitch Black” property was not absorbed by the Finely Torn Id and he still has a central place in town and can pick the brain and borrow the ear of Chelsea leader Sikul Himakt about developments in those directions (psychological/ philosophical). But it’s not going to happen. The Diagonal has power still, yes. Rubi and Sister are still definitely sister sims, united by the triple numbers 97/97/97 in past/present/future. All’s Baker and me can do is focus on what we have, what we know. 97/97/97 is no longer present in VHC City. If it *would* return, if the power of the triple numbers and the attached Diagonal were known, then a link could return. But there’s always fiction for it. 🙂

Woody may have discovered or remembered an important detail related to this. Let’s have Baker Bloch tonight quickly change into that character instead of Pitch or something else…

… and send him over to the very center of the Purden sim, with the “show interface” option checked off on the snapshot.

Sentient tree Core-Alena should be here, true, but it’s only Woody tonight. He ponders on the absence, and then notices that he’s at 128/128/127, very close to the theoretical lone triple number of the sim. Or are there maybe even other triple numbers here? It’s worth a check… lemme turn on the sun and have Woody walk around and I’ll get back to ya’ll on this.

—–

First off, Baker-as-Woody finds it more difficult to walk The Diagonal in Purden than Rubi because all the *trees* seem to be exactly the same. In this way, Purden, although containing many more trees than Rubi overall (I think I estimated about 5 times the amount at one time), is a simpler, perhaps more primitive sim. Core-Alena stands out from all this same-ness more than kindred walky talky tree Unch does in his own Linden woods. Back to Woody’s walk…

—–

Okay, Woody can definitely stand at coordinates 127/127/127, and my guess is that this may be the true triple number of the sim. But so close to the center that it’s most likely a practical equivalent. Or centre, as Woody likes to spell it for a reason. He’s thinking of psychologist/philosopher Phillip Jeffries Jeffrie Phillips right now.

—–

He’s heading uphill for a little bit beyond this. Definitely possibilities for another triple number, maybe even several…

—-

But in subsequently walking up to the crest, Woody realizes that’s it’s simply not high enough, and that another triple number wouldn’t be reached in the sim. He gives Purden up for the night and teleports over to Jaffee instead, right on the edge but not within the Purden forest. This is the place where he once lived in an a-frame, as chronicled in “Collagesity 2016-2017 Winter” (Part 6). But now we have two places named “Still” there instead. They’re even marked on the inworld map…

—–

Strange. The word “Still” has now been erased in Jaffee (!). It was just there the other night when Woody joined the rest of the Blackstars at a rehearsal in “Still Dead”. But there is — or *were* — two “Stills”, as mentioned, with “Still Alive” joining “Still Dead” to make a logical yin-yang sky box tandem.


“Still” removed (western edge of Jaffee).


Before…

—–

Hmm, a new house on his old land. And this Blackbook person perhaps within, the owner of “Still Dead” Woody talked to just about a week back. He doesn’t desire avatar interaction tonight, however, and decides to teleport elsewhere. Home will do presently. Collagesity, yes. This is indeed home now. And right on the western edge of another, parallel woods. Perfect for him.

Good thing Woody didn’t use remote viewing while there to look within. Bert the Semi-Nudist! (his old love)

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Filed under Heterocera, Purden/Snowlands, Rubi, Sansara, Second Life, Uncategorized, VHC City

Pretty Man

Basically like clockwork, Earie passes Jiff’s abode a couple minutes beyond total darkness. 7:30 tonight, but winter is coming and the days are getting shorter. Tomorrow he should pass at approximately 7:29, the next day 7:28, and so on until time turns around or he leaves the sim. One day Jiff will follow the punk to see where he goes, but right now he needs to get some sleep. Jiff’s usually in bed by about 8 and rises around 6. Sometimes he even sees Earie pass the other way. Then it’s off to work at the Gaston-Berry Police Station as staff psychiatrist. A new and troubled male inmate has just arrived who goes by the name of Wilson. Pretty face, though. Maybe that’s the screw’s turn, Jiff ponders, knowing other information. Maybe this town demands too much from its citizens.

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Filed under Gaston, Second Life, Uncategorized

blackstars

It’s time for Improvio to strike out on his own.

Hana Lei…

… and Leona too.

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Filed under Purden/Snowlands, Second Life, Uncategorized