Tag Archives: Rocky Raccoon

Liz

“It’s a magic book,” states Hucka Doobie to the visiting Librarian, who stopped by for the day. “Just open it to any page and start reading.”

The Librarian does so and reads aloud.

“Martha: Our son does not have blue hair… or blue eyes, for that matter. He has green eyes… like me. George: He has blue eyes Martha.” He looks up.

“See?” explains Hucka Doobie. “There, George and Martha, our Washingtons, our first couple — Adam and Eve — use the illusion of their son as a battlefield for dominance. Ickles.”

“Sonny-Jim?” asks The Librarian, reading further.

“Yeah. I think that’s the name. Unifying factor. Blue-green.”

The Librarian looks on the opposite page. “Who’s Audrey?”

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Mr. and Mrs. Blue-Green

“You waiting on your worse half too?”

“Sure am.”

“Whaddaya say me’s and you’s go for a drink while we’re biding our time?”

“Sure am!”

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Ashokan, Little Tonshi

“Where *am* I??”

—–

“There, that’s better. Hi Rocky!”

“We found an Ickle,” the raccoon mumbles, half asleep.

“What’s that Rocky?”

His eyes open. “Two of them, Bettie. A blue one, then a green one. East and west. Directly.” He turns into the walking version of himself and goes to her. “Down there. Just in the other sim.”

“What are we waiting for?” she asks rhetorically.

—–

“What now?”

“We wait,” states the raccoon.

“Oh my.”

“Rocky?”

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future legend

“Trust me,” Rocky says. “You won’t be able to get through that narrow opening to the main street, Danny. We’ll have to go around the back of this building to reach the hotel.”

“Oh all right. Stupid anti-superhero powers.”

On the way, Rocky watches yet another person jump off one of those so-called suicide platforms to their death on the rails below. “Third one this week,” he says to himself.

“Hmm, this one won’t make it either. Come on Danny! Over here!”

“Hmph. Could have swore this was an alleyway just the other day. Go ahead and try it anyway Danny, hehe.”

“What a Fool. Okay, let’s move on boy. Man-boy.”

“*This* is Main Street, Danny. But the hotel’s now 2 blocks down. I’m famished. Let’s see if we can find some place to eat, eh?”

“Doughnut,” Danny answers. “Doughnuts and pig.”

—–

“What’s this, then?” Rocky disables camera constraints.

“A trapped little peoploid!”

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triad

The next day, Danny’s chest triangle lit up after breakfast and told him to visit a man named Great who was also Good and So-So and then back to Great again. He knew where to look.

“Piggies,” he grumbled while looking inside that cop car on the way. “What’s next in town? Marshmallow men? Confetti parachuters?”

Like any superhero, he was simply going to walk through that fence ahead separating the town’s two sims.

Made it! But in turning around Danny finds he can’t go back through the barrier from this direction. Power neutralized on this side of town? He tries to melt the top of a nearby building with his laser vision. It doesn’t work! Yes, he’s a mere mortal again. He doesn’t like it. Onward to the hotel.

He instead decides to walk up the stairs straight ahead to the town’s raised park where Rocky was performing on a much larger piano this day, grand in style. “Shut up,” he says softly from the top of the stairs. “Shut up!” he then shouts toward the animal pianist. “Shut up!!”

Third time Rocky finally heard him. He stopped playing the 2nd movement of John Cage’s “4’33″” and turned around. “Great,” he muttered. “The Jester has arrived.”

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going world? 02

“Rocky is playing a wonderful tune tonight. Cage, you say?”

“Yes. John,” answers Bettie. “‘Suite for Toy Piano.’ Debuted 1948 in Black Mountain, North Carolina. Not far from our user’s home. Very close, say, if it were 5, 6, 7 years down the road. If users are even around. We may be on our own by then. Us down here, alone with our actions, our consequences. Might be nice, Nancy. Just us, this town, its inhabitants. The Atoll Continent as a whole. Sansara can go to hell.”

Nancy frowns. “I don’t know. I like the old continent. We should go visit the climbable beanstalk (in Welsh) sometime.” Rocky’s piano tinkling ends and he gets up.

“Babble,” replied Bettie. Then: “Shush. The rant part of Rocky’s performance piece is starting. Let’s dance while he speaks.”

—–

Each one of us must now look to himself. That which formerly held us together and gave meaning to our occupations was our belief in God. When we transferred this belief first to heroes, then to things, we began to walk our separate paths. That island that we have grown to think no longer exists to which we might have retreated to escape from the impact of the world, lies, as it ever did, within each one of our hearts. Towards that final tranquility, which today we so desperately need, any integrating occupation–music and writing are two of them, rightly used–can serve as a guide.

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begending

“I don’t quite get all these references to clowns, Buster. Could this be a Clare Nova influence on the town? Clown town?”

“Here it is, Wheeler,” said Buster beside her, not really listening. “The stairs I took up to my death spot. But now Peter says there are two such structures (in town).”

“Well, let’s go look around. Anyone coming in has to land there. Why did they do that? Some things here puzzle me. Puzzle me greatly.”

“My guess is that there are two forces in Olde Lapara, one for each involved sim. The town is split, in effect. Male and female. Black and white. Good and bad. Old and new. The town needs to heal itself in order to go forwards. It’s the same with every one of us.”

“Quite the philosopher you are, Buster. I guess that goes along with you being 10,000 years old or something.”

“Yes. I’ve seen a lot. Do you know how hard it is to kill a vampire?” He answers himself. “*Really* hard. If they don’t want to be killed. And I’m simply a coward. I enjoy life in death.”

“Jesus could give you that,” offers Wheeler. “So says the protesters. Where’d they go anyway?”

“So many questions, but we must start at the beginning. And the end.” They walk up the stairs.

—–

“We could just wait here long enough and meet up with everyone that regularly comes through the place,” says Wheeler, staring inside. “Manifestation spot. What does it mean?”

“Stop asking that. Meaning meaning meaning. Maybe it just is what it is. A work in progress. Continual progress.”

“Let’s go see the other one. This one’s empty to me.”

Buster took a closer look.

“You don’t understand, Wheeler Wilson. I couldn’t even look out to see who was continually shooting me. 47 times. They thought I was already a vampire. But I wasn’t. At the time.”

“Who turned you?” queried Wheeler (yet again). “I mean, to become a vampire someone has to kill you — drain you of blood, right?”

—–

Synchronicity. Just then, Bettie manifested in the south side of town using Rocky’s Unique Mushroom Portal, as she called it — RUMP, for short. That was part of the deal. Rocky would possess the small house, but Bettie and her alts like Little Tonshi Ashokan could use it as a shortcut when they wished to come down the mountain for a visit. Which was turning out to be often, much to Rocky’s irritation. He was attempting to jumpstart his second novel. Current working title: “Two to Know.”

On August 8th, 1926, cubic Arnold and Betsy Layne had just arrived in town, demanding a room in the already booked up Grand Lapara Hotel…

Rocky took the sheet out of the typewriter, wadded it up and threw it toward the wastebasket in the corner. “No, that won’t do,” he sighed.

—–

“Do you want to do it or should I?”

“I’ll go. You go get some rest for tomorrow when we explore the other end.”

—–

“I said *I’d* go.”

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