Tag Archives: Randolph/Jim the Pirate^*~~%

southward

Elvis Kannelvis’ small, pine dominated Linden forest, shaped like an arrow, points directly to the center of X-City: the famed crossroads of Maebaleia/Satoris and the symbolic heart of the continent as a whole. As the heart goes so does the land, but right now we’re dealing more with a spade (upside down/oppositely colored heart) situation. A Menace has taken over. Where will Elvis go now? Will he simply remain in this wood forever and ever, finding out more and more information about The Line through nightly dreams?

He’s seen Randolph the Bastard Pirate and Wendy Wheeler Wilson rendezvous almost daily at the Kingpost pirate bar. He knows what goes on there; that was the beginning, what set it all in motion. The Line begins. Then we have Aunt Ginger on the complete opposite side of the 28 sim long phenomenon with the Intrepide tinies, herself being miniature as well most likely. Tealy and Tillie are on their way over there as I type, attempting to figure out the where/who/why of the vast explosion they saw the smoke billowing up from the other day from their home on the shores of Rubisea (also on The Line). Red being Devil Dave is in the mix too but I’m not sure how.

And then there’s Tessa.


“Steady as she goes, Fisher/Philip Strevor/Devil Dave!”

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2021-2020 WINTER”!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0703, Continent's Edge, Gno Kingdom^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^, Rubisea, X-City^

odessey and oracle

—–

It’s not about The Zombies. It’s the lighting, phew!

“Now let’s get out of here,” she said to herself, detaching the machete and the basket for the cut off heads before returning to The Line after adjusting her environment appropriately. Lightening up! Now all she had to do was find the Valentine twins and choose between the two: Natha Neil or Nata Lee?

—–

“Tealy?”

“Yes, Tillie?” They had almost weeded out all the infected plants from the garden. 3 days of toil and anguish. But no way could they eat most of this stuff. Giganticism!

“How would you like to… visit Aunt Ginger for Valentine’s Day?”

Must have been all the thoughts about the size of things that made her want to do this, Tealy rationalized. But she had other reasons.

—–

She affected the local speech. “Arrr. There be Randolph the Bastard Pirate and his three cornered hat.” She pushed the plate full of apples, oranges, bananas closer to him as he approached. “Ready to see which way the fruit swings?”

He sat down. He was ready.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0616, Continent's Edge, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Rubisea

TILE VILE

“Arrr. *There* be my three cornered hat. Thank yee for keeping it for me, Saucy Wanda.”

“Wendy,” she replied, use to the bastard pirates getting her name wrong. Especially this bastard pirate. Randolph was his name and magic squares were his game. Especially Jupiter’s right now. He be melancholy lately. Not just because he lost his hat — that was only several hours ago. This be days ago. The tinies on the exact opposite side of the Maebaleia/Satori continent took something from him, but something of much greater value (and he truly loved his hat). Not exactly his pride, although that factored in too.

—–

Elvis Kannelvis was back to training again. He wish someone would just blow up the Urban ice cream parlor over there across the sim line. 15 lbs.! He’d never fit in the hole at this rate. He’d have to cancel the event, lose all that potential money. No… NOT tonight. Back to the woods across the road from the *Active* Urban Mall. And why all those Urbans again in this one small space, he pondered while trying to run even faster at the first whiff of pineapple strawberry.

—–

“Here,” he said while bending over and starting to sort out the gold glass shards. Or was that blue. Red? “Maybe we can put it back together.”

Green now. “No way!” cried Tiny Wanda in her miniature voice to Blue Bear Y. Ginger would, of course, know the difference, despite the giant gummy beast’s fame with fusion energy. They couldn’t put the *colors* back together.

Gold again. Blue.

Red.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0612, Continent's Edge, Maebaleia/Satori^^, X-City^

wedding 03

Weddings at St. Mary’s traditionally took place after the Munday sermon so Preacher Stephan had to sacrifice a Renaldo O’Donnell clown first to appease the Gods. Tradition as well.

“Oops, that was a real squirter Pitch, ha.” The Darklys excused themselves to go home and wash clothes.

Afterwards church officials found the sacrificial altar was too heavy to move, so they made do with a cheap wedding booth found buried in a pile of junk at the back of the annex. Toothpick and Elberta then said their “I do’s” to Preacher Ziegler, since Preacher Stephan, a Northerner, refused to acknowledge the Deep South tradition of marrying siblings as kosher.

At the reception, Marty sang one of his beautiful love ditties to Saffie sitting with Toothpick, Elberta and best man Zapppa, hoping to get a better rental unit out of it.

Time to cut the cake. Big Wanda becomes annoyed about the orange butterflies that keep flying off her head in the excitement and leaves the task solely to Toothpick.

As feared, Her Majesty the local bigfoot/yeti came up from the new hole behind St. Mary’s to pay her respects to the newlyweds but was surprisingly controlled by the Corona-V pirates and ended up not eating anyone.

Lastly: group picture. Everyone had a laugh about all the innuendos.

And that’s it! Log another Collagesity or Sunklands photo-novel in the books.

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Barry 02 02

He awoke again a little later on in the day, not having moved from his spot in front of the Raccoon typewriter. Nappy the cat stared directly into the camera, aware of its presence. Eraserhead Man even dared to wave at it, thinking the noticing was funny. Barry DeBoy was not aware of it. Barry DeBoy was in character. He had awoken again, in the same spot as before. Someone, perhaps himself, had turned off the lamp.  More clarity all around this time. Wadded up papers on the floor — was this something *he* wrote, perhaps a future or past version again? He picked one up, unwadded it.  Something about a place named Gaston. Later he found parrot droppings on the floor of the shed and put two and two together to make four or five. A pirate with a parrot had been here, and he thought he knew which one. The dream controller. The one who brought the virus in his pirate ship for communities that didn’t heed the warnings. Like maw’s Storybrook. Like this place. DeBoy tries to remember the name, the most obvious thing he should recall. But all he could come up with was The Waste, which he knew wasn’t quite right. Something about a number. Or numbers.

He unwadded more; tried to piece together the story being written. Gaston had appeared in something called a photo-novel in versions 6, 11, 16, 21. Through this, the bastard pirate had concluded that it was related to something called a Magic Square of Jupiter, a 4×4 glyph that appeared, perhaps most famously, in Albrect Durer’s print “Melancholia” from back in the 15th Century or something — this from the pirate text again.

He finished unfolding the papers, shooed the conscious cat from the table, and tried to align them in correct order. 70 pages total, he understood from the numeration. But only 4 present here: bits about the magic square and the overall theories but no meat, no details. He would have to shift his attention elsewhere for more answers.

He turned to the stool and the easel holding a canvas on the other side of the screened in shed. Painting. Barry DeBoy realized he had two functions in life now. He was a writer. He was an artist, if not a painter then the equivalent. But in this moment: painter. He had work to do… he remembered that too. The CITY design. Black Diamond. He must get to work soon.

He wasn’t a writer in this incarnation. He was an artist. He wadded the papers back up and threw them in the trashcan underneath the desk. The true story of Gaston would have to wait until another day, another dreamer in another day perhaps, or one who dreams he is real even though he is just another character, one in a long long line now. Maybe he will share a first name with another of his kind — quite likely, given the sheer number. But before DeBoy gets to work — this is *his* work station now, not the pirate’s, not anyone else named Barry — he must explore the neighborhood. Find Suisan if possible and get the story about his mother. Maybe even — maw? He had to look. He had to know. Suisan would know. If she was available.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0604, The Waste^^

Gastonite

Now eyepatched Jim the Bastard Pirate, still working from his magic typewriter, looks around the 2nd floor of his new Bogota Gallery in NWES City and sees it is good.

Soon he would reach the 3rd and enter a new level of understanding about what happened to Hucka Doobie when she was pushed into that collage to the left by thought-to-be friend Tammy Whatammy back in photo-novel 7. Instead: fusion.


“When in Rome” (2018)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0314, Black Ice, collages 2d, Gaston^^, NWES Island^

sweet sixteen

“I remember that day like it was yesterday,” spoke Jiff the former staff psychologist at Gaston Police Station. “Gastion, they sometimes called it when they were all drunk and slury down in the basement beside the torturing devices. Best to be intoxicated down there. Too many ghosts and memories. But it was the only place they could get away from chief Golden Josephine Jim and expect to get away with it. Chef Golden Jim Josephine often joined them. Cook at the upgraded Joint Joint, now a hip place for those who think with their hips instead of their head. Which was seemingly everyone around here. The Dark Peak dominated once more — Dark Days again.”

Jim the Bastard Pirate, formerly Randolph the Bastard Pirate, was typing away as Jiff’s cartoon-ish, Ickle voice yammered on. The words almost came too swift. He needed something better than a manual instrument for his craft, his trade. Because, he determined early on, this one will *sell*. I’ll hide all the things I’ve plundered from others, like that graphite gray map on the, let’s see, wall behind me. There. He turns.

Half of it remains screened for now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0313, Gaston^^, The Waste^^

pirate

138 dead. Chain reaction. The words reverberated in his head like a broken record or something. A repetitive sea shanty — that’s better. He remembers to paint again. Dreamy dreams can wait. He tries to set them aside but more return en masse. Chain reaction. 138 dead, 138 dead, 138 dead. Perhaps it is time to write; maybe the *other* voices will drown out *these* voices. He moves from the canvas to the typewriter to begin a long overdue project. He inserts a blank sheet. Like life itself, waiting to be written upon, he thinks. Fresh start. He presses caps lock and centers the page 2/3rd up with 3 backspaces. He types a G, then an A, then an S. He stares at what he’s typed so far. T, then, O. He pauses again. N to finish. It has begun.

That should keep the bastard busy for a while.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0312, collages 2d, Gaston^^, The Waste^^

buds

She was about to walk right past him on her determined journey to the almost vacated clown amusement park when he called over. “Duncy be not here any longer, arrgh. He be passing about 5 hours ago now. One way in, one way out. 5 hours be too long in that place (*squawk*). My blind parrot over there beyond camera sweep be agreeing with me, matie (pause). Marsha matie.”

Marsha “Star” Pink halted forward progress and look over at the chatty figure suddenly saying her name, hand with smoke dangerously close to a smoking fire. Pirate — in fact…

“Jim the Bastard,” issued Marsha, taking him in. “I haven’t seen you since–”

“Storybrook?” he completed, voice roughened by cigarettes and sea. She hadn’t heard that name in a long *long* time. What happened to her? Well, for one thing, *death*.

—–

15 minutes later, Suisan also came walking through the tall brown grass. “Come here, you,” Marsha called over, smoke in hand as well now. “We gotta talk.”

“*Sorry* I’m late!”

“Never mind that…”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0311, The Waste^^

Pirate

Bastard buccaneer Randolph wondered how his eye suddenly got better and he doesn’t have to wear a patch any longer. Oh well, must be a stereotype. He eyes the old, dusty upright book in front of him, pondering the cover again. Peter Oesso should be here shortly, he thinks, furthering his evil plans for world domination. It’s only a matter of time. The Descent of Chaos.

He also wonders about the tanker burning brightly outside, and why it hasn’t exploded further.

Then, while still staring at the book with the hand and the 3, he remembers his former existence. Jim, the convenience store owner who sells Lucky Stripes. And indeed he has a patch.

He also remembers the burning tanker at the gas station is in the past as well.

The Martian steps into it.

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