Tag Archives: Rocky Racco

End?

Rocky goes back to Middletown and sets monstrously green Gregg Oden free from his small prison. He immediately becomes red clad Greg Ogden again, planning out his next oil painting of Treasure Hill (*not* a watercolor). Rocky sees an army base nearby and decides to turn in his resignation. Since entering the war 4 days back, Rocky had risen to the rank of lieutenant, soon to be captain in several more hours. It was time to end the insanity before he climbed to the very top of the ranks and was in charge of the whole kit and caboodle. He didn’t want to be trapped in that!

“Wrong side,” he said while looking at the wall behind the central desk within. “Oh well, it’s all games and pretend anyway.” He then saw the name on the typewriter at the desk. He sat down and studied it to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. The brand name: Raccoon.

Rocky found himself typing. And typing and typing. In a matter of hours, he had unfurled his whole story from Olde Lapara Towne, Collagesity, and Middletown. The stack of paper by his side kept growing higher, yet he went on. Future adventures. Collagesity and beyond. Mushroom house in the Adirondacks. Must keep going higher. Higher. To the top.

Two days later he was finally finished. He had risen to the rank of 5 star general, overseeing the whole Gulf engagement. He sent word to his lesser generals. Put down your arms. The insanity is over. There is no war any more. There never was.

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Rocky’s Ships

Rocky found that when he tried to sit on the destroyer in order to plant the bombs and, er, destroy it, he seemed to *become* the ship. No deployment of explosives possible. Eventually the Japanese ship that Rocky has merged with passes another of the same nationality, and Rocky unsits and tries his luck with that one instead.

Same basic situation: he can’t sit on the ship because it keeps moving and he does not. Several times he tries, but keeps falling to the ocean floor behind it. He gives up, and wanders to the top of a nearby underwater hill, laying his long cooled gun beside him.

He looks around; scans in every direction. Nothing, he thinks. There is nothing here. No war, he realizes. No sides to choose from. It was all a dream. I’ve been living a dream ever since my webbed feet touched mainland and I entered that battle camp. Rocky looked at his gun, which he’d named while practicing target shooting in Olde Lapara Towne down in Grasslands last month, the last time he would do so in that location. “Time to go home, Terry,” he addressed it.

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Alex and Albert 02

“Let me out of here,” he cried in his high, wispy voice. “I’m Gregg Oden! I drink… I drink Baileys from a shoe.”

“Not until you choose a side,” a gun toting Rocky persists. He didn’t have the heart to shoot Greg Ogden on the spot several days back so he just bought a small freebie jail to hold him in. Then *this* happened shortly afterwards — red to green again. Inexplicable.

Rocky stared west from whence he came. “What else might come through that cursed sand castle portal over on the volcano island?” he asked himself.

“You don’t understand little raccoon man. I haven’t painted a watercolor of myself or Baileys in a week. I’m dying for lack of art. Gregg Oden needs art to live,” he insisted.

“Shut up with your yammering,” Rocky voiced, tired of hearing the poor pitiful creature rant on and on about basically nothing. “I need to think. We’ve been on this perch long enough. There’s a war going on!”

“I know Alex,” Gregg Oden then said more mysteriously after a pause. “And Albert. They could help you with your little war. Could help one side or the other win. I hide them in a special place.” He looked down at his tutu, then back up. “I can help you out raccoon man… if you help me out.”

Just then, Rocky spots a ship passing in front of the Zebrasil-Ichelus island. He employs remote viewing, sees the flag, and decides to go after it.

Lucky for Rocky, because he was about to be manjinaed by Gregg Oden just like poor Terry and others before him.

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Switchies 02

Newly formed Roger Pine Ridge decides to sneak by snoozing Cyberpaperdoll on the lower floor and go visit friendly, understanding neighbor Tammy Whatammy in her cabin across just across Old Cannon Road to tell her the news. But Tammy was nowhere to be found within. The entire cabin had basically been cleaned out — no sign that she had ever been there.

Only one object remained: the town’s generic media player. And on it, the Sunklands post had changed once again.

—–

Greg Ogden was trying to ignore all the commotion going on behind him in order to focus on his painting. The subject matter, as always it seemed: Treasure Hill, now about 200 meters north of his chosen perch. To its right, Middletown lay just beyond his draw distance from here. He liked it that way. Treasure Hill alone and without tag-along berg, just like in olden days. Pre Gulf War days, he thinks while listening to a new round of shots from in back. Then a fierce explosion rocked the land, totally ruining an attempted first brush stroke. Greg Ogden had decided to give up for the day when Rocky Raccoo reached his perch from the ravaged camp below, smoking gun in hand.

“Axis or Allies?” he called toward the harmless artist. “Choose or be shot anyway.”

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Zebrelus

Must admit this is cool. But where’s the wacky weed?

Nice. Where’s the grass?

“Grass? Any grass here? Well be that way then.”

Ooo. No way around the island or whatever it is from *this* direction. Don’t want my feetsies getting toasted!

“Anybody home?!” Rocky yells after going through a gap to reach the eastern side of the island. “Any grass around?! Any at all?!”

His calls echo around the volcanic mountains. More strange, non-communicating creatures appear.

He walks to the shoreline and looks out across the expanse of water. “Is that mainland?” he asks himself now. One way to find out.

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twisty-turny

Olde Lapara Towne’s Rocky Raccoo hasn’t quite given up on the idea of moving to Collagesity, despite his cousins Racket and Sport setting him up nicely with that cabin high up in the Lapara hill country. He can work at the Grand Lapara Hotel, but doesn’t have to live in his old crawlspace area there — quite yet. Life is pretty good. Still he sometimes pops down here in the middle of the night to take a look at the apartment and ponder on the life that could have been. And there’s also the fact that winter is coming. Winter is almost here!

My name remains on the mailbox, Rocky thinks. Bookworm must not have used the town’s postal service during his stay.

There it is. The Hana Lei portal. Baker Bloch worked quite hard on all of this Grassland re-creation. Baker Blinker too.

Portal’s still warm, he says to himself after walking over and feeling the sand castle’s walls. Someone’s used it recently. He’s sees the glint of the green jewel. Hmm. Dare he?

First he decides to take a look upstairs.

I bet you this Bookworm fellow didn’t even meditate, Rocky continues. Scripted Dr. Who throw pillow and great view squandered!

But *they* can look down on him. That was a big factor in his decision not to come here, although he didn’t really express this drawback adequately to The Bakers. Kidd Tower renters could see everything that goes on. And no drapes! Although I guess I could have asked for some. Lots of things happening at once, though: loss of my market, switching jobs, switching places to stay. I didn’t have time to think all the possibilities out. The Bakers promised that I could run Collagesity’s Bodega Supermarket as well.

It’s right down there. I could see everyone that goes in and out from this perch. Advantage. I wonder if this window could be tinted black at night. Kind of a Wall of Jasper effect.

Through the opposite window, there’s a view into the 4th and last apartment in the SoSo Mall complex. The Bakers says it’s rented by a biker guy and his cybernetic lady friend. So that’s more potential spying neighbors. But at least on eye level this time. Still: pretty good view of Collagesity North and the newer part of town next to the Rubi Woods.

Rocky goes back downstairs to the table beside the dune portal and begins making a checklist. Kidd Tower neighbors can see in: negative. Winter is coming to Olde Lapara Towne: positive. 4th Apartment renters can see in at eye level and indirectly: negative, but less of one. Winter is coming: positive.

Rocky puts down the notepad, starts shaking his head. “Winter is coming,” he repeats aloud and looks over at the sand portal. “This will be the final test, then. How far it will take me; how much grass and weed I can find out there in the Great Beyond.”

He digs the owl’s head ring out of the sand in the widest castle turret and places it on the appropriate finger. One twist should do it. Right or left this time? he debates. “Let’s try counterclockwise.” He twists the ring with his body still touching the castle.

“Well this is different.”

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Sugar House

“See?” encouraged Baker Blinker. “It’s very nice here. I’d recommend turning up your RenderTreeLODFactor under Show Debug Settings in the Advanced Menu to, say, 10 instead of the default 1. That way the trees will fill out better in the woods.”

“Are you allowed to hunt?” the raccoon queried. “Or shoot atall?”

“No. I’m afraid not Mr. Racco.”

He put his paws on the table. “How about pot? Is it legal here?”

“I’m not sure, Mr. Racco.”

“Rocky, please.”

“Rocky,” Baker Blinker complied. “Do you want to sell it or just smoke it?”

“Both,” he replied rapidly. “That was my plan in Lapara. Before The End.”

“I’m sorry about your bar, Rocky. I’m sorry about Terry more.”

“One and the same,” he said softly, looking down. He paused, then, wiping his eyes, raised his head back up and stared intently at Baker Blinker. “I wish to see the body.”

Baker shook her head. “It’s not a good idea.” She thought back to how Baker Bloch removed Terry from the ceiling with a spatula yesterday. It didn’t happen in one piece.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s talk neighbors… citizens.”

“Well, there’s Baker Bloch of course, then Wheeler Wilson…”

“Who I know from Lapara,” Rocky interrupted. “But explain the clowning. Never understood that. Does this have something to do with Levi Clownski (owner of Olde Lapara Towne along with mate Shoshi)?”

“No, (the clowning) predates the family being involved with that town. It stems from VHC City. Something about The Underground there. Something about the story of Clare Nova.”

“I’m all ears,” Rocky said, leaning forward.

Baker Blinker instead suggested they walk up Old Cannon Road to the apartment and talk along the way. Rocky gleaned the truth.

“You don’t know why she’s clowned. Do you?” Baker admitted she was hazy about all that. Rocky shifted in his chair. “Then I want to see this Gregg Oden, the killer.” His tone had become harsher. “Is *Gregg* a clown?”

“No,” states Baker Blinker plainly, taking it all in.

“And you’re sure?”

“Positive.” Rocky shifted back. “And I don’t think it’s wise to go over to Gaston looking the way you do,” Baker Blinker continued. “All raccoon-y. They forbid aliens there.”

“Aliens smaliens,” he huffed. “Let’s go to Gaston. I have all the time in the world to look over your town. I want to see this *old* Gregg. Gregg with the extra ‘g’, pheh.”

—–

“I thought you said he was green.”

“He *was*,” Baker exclaimed.

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