Tag Archives: Ruby^^+

August 5, 2021 · 6:59 am

Collagesity to end

“The proximity of Diamond to Ruby in the Virgin Islands, is telling, Sally. Can I still call you Sally?” He turns, notes the slight tinge of blue in the hair. Dusk now, soon to be dawn. And in-between… well, Charlene doesn’t need to know anything about it, let’s say. Starfish Lake (or Sea). The Motel without the ending “l”. Couch instead of bed. But it’ll do for the job. He’ll think of explanations (for Charlene) afterwards. Must – go – back.

“You may.” He took that in a double way and moved onward.

“And you’ll note in the background, the — distance, that there’s another Diamond. Diamond 02 as opposed to Diamond 01. And *both* Diamonds are near a Hope (Hope 01 and Hope 02), indicating ring.”

“I’ll get it,” spoke listening Kolya from the back.

“Not now, Kolya,” Jeffrey Phillips in front said, laughing. “It’s just a metaphor.” Sally was also snickering but tried to at least cover her ruby red mouth with her ghost diamond white hand to disguise.

“Oh.”

Jeffrey Phillips now pointed upper right with his cane finger. “Parasol,” he indicated. “Opening for her to come back,” he explained further about the presence of the pin marking the small Virgin I. village on the map. “Umbrella,” he spoke more back to Kolya. “But don’t open it or there’s a chance more rain will pour into your brain.” Less snickering this time from Sally. She truly felt sorry for Kolya and his holey headed condition and thought new-ish lover Jeffrey Phillips had taken it too far this time. She forcefully halted her smile, turned to Kolya as well to show her serious face, perhaps inserting a schweet secret smile upon it in place of the wry, even mocking one.

With this, Kolya remembers the move from Lower to Upper Austra again and the search for the green grey alien. Ruby. Just like the map. But how to phrase to avoid more mocking? At least from Jeffrey, Kolya thinks. Jeffrey remains undeveloped, but perhaps this new-ish gal Sally — Newgent he thinks, similar to new gal — *can* help him. *He* can help him. He can. He: Can.

Alysha was by *his* side. Alysha reached over and held his hand, knowing she was the one. She’d grow up soon enough.

(END OF “SUNKLANDS PHOTO-NOVEL 27”!)

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August 5, 2021 · 6:59 am

res(e)t

“Alright enough of this mumbo jumbo hoochie koochie stuff, Minister (same as the funeral home director, conveniently enough). Let’s just get it over with and open the coffin.” Petty was inpatient to see what the Anomaly of this amalgamated town, Paper-Soap, was actually like. A plasmic entity as the sheriff suspected, one Wilbur Marshallford of Pennsylvania, Indiana? A luminous, demonic birthday hat as Koyla, Stu Umbriel, and now black-not-Indian Chief thought, product of that ill advised party and decisions made there? Probably glowing then, wouldn’t you think?

“Just as I suspected,” Chef-inspector Petty continued after the coffin lid had been raised mentally by all attending. “This plot is empty; Ruby is no longer in this world. Only a figurative diamond remains. But to whose hand? Who is wedded to the grave?”

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August 4, 2021 · 7:13 am

into it

Agent 47 reviewed what he found out in his head. So they moved Ruby Alien from the Asylum to the Hospital and set up a Cloud of Confusion between the two. Now no one knows the difference between a physician and a psychiatrist, which is exactly what Dr. Mouse had in mind, being both at the same time. Clever man. But Agent 47, with his coral-like brain, thinks he can beat him to the game. He also knows they’ve created a clone, but can’t recreate the green — “green is missing,” Martha insisted toward the end of their, er, bargain, he finally making it to the end and dragging along several pre-Agents with him. Yeah, he thought at the time, you get to experience this *too* — see what *you* think about it. Light at the end of the tunnel, pheh. There *is* no light.

“Mr. Peter File! Calling Mr. Peter File!”

The vet’s assistant looked around, seeing no one respond. She checked out the agent. She looked at the dog reading manga on her laptop and briefly thought how far they’d come as a species, thanks to the Powers of the town — Tim and Jenny Powers, Tim being the vet and Jenny the assistant. They traded off positions every other week, he being the dominant one right now. “Peter *File* — last call.” She stared at the agent again and wondered what number they were up to at the station. She’d heard rumors about the Anomaly of course. “None of you lot?”

Agent 47… couldn’t help himself. “Peter… *File*. Doesn’t exist. He was made up as a joke by the doctor. Now what *kind* of doctor am I talking about… Mrs. *Powers*?”

It was a trick caused by the Cloud of Confusion hanging darkly and dimly over the town, of course. Sparkles the laptop reading labrador, pretending to study manga, was actually, secretly taking notes on the vet and his or her assistant. One of our better creations, Agent 47 thinks while looking on, satisfied in the moment. If only he could get the darkness at the end of the tunnel out of his mind. “Agent 59,” he speaks internally down the line at agents that don’t exist quite yet but are in the queue, “did you get a glimpse of your dark, dark future? How about you Agent 70?” He was just picking numbers at random. Doesn’t matter: they’re all doomed. From his 47 position he could see all the way back to 99, but 100 remained in light. Blinding. 99 is where the images start to separate from the white-out at the end. *That’s* true heaven, he thought bitterly, not Martha Ram or any other woman for that matter. Because the closer you get to birth — well, they’ll find out.

He needed to experience reality in order to continue justifying his existence. Clones are standing by, as they say. *She* wasn’t the only one in trouble. Maybe they could make a pact — work together for a common cause (selfhood). But these Powers of the town stood in the way, confusing vet with people doctors or any other doctor you could come up with. Dr. Paul Mouse, formerly Dr. Paul Black (or dr.’s assistant Peter File, some say), was brilliant even, he decided then and there, watching the dog accomplish a google search for “Yankton Federal Prison.”

Nondescript Norris beside him was taking notes as well. Red Room. Don’t look at me, he thinks while doing so. Don’t *anyone* look at me.

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July 29, 2021 · 11:09 pm

checkerboard

The 2nd Gee Cat arrived too late to help the first with the toting and dragging but she had another mission to fulfill: find the sacred Hobo and return him to HOME. Tell him who he is. Eat his enemies if necessary. Drag him home. Not to the Asylum. For these 2 Gee Cats, very different in looks and nature, are actually opposites of each other, friend and foe or friend and fiend. Now to find out which is which.

—-

“*Not* a witch,” she decides to say to the Pizza King.

“But –.”

“No butts.”

—–

The plug was blinking bright green, dispensing good vibes to the body. She breaths a sigh of relief. A *friend* approaches (phew!).

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July 16, 2021 · 8:49 am

00270405

“Don’t worry about the wine, lady. I’m not really a kid.”

She simmers for a second, then: *Wonder*lady if you please.” She tries to stop simmering, crosses her legs, assumes a even haughtier if more subdued tone. “I’m a pro-per superhero after all. Like Superduper Man.”

“Realllly?” Billie Jean Kidd fakes, since she’s not really a fan of that genre. “Telll me mooorrr (!).” (*sip*)

“First you have to tell me something,” Wonderlady bargains, falling for the trap. “Who is that green *lady* back there on the bed. Is she sick?”

“She has a Little Bug — that’s all I’m allowed to say.” Snickering inside here from our old friend, a kid who is not a kid indeed. A lady as well: young, old, everything in-between, and then add a dog and perhaps that other thing to top it off. Shapeshifter in a word. That’s why she’s a member of the Black Lake Gang, recruited originally by gangster pals Marion Star Harding and Phillip Strevor, the *louts*. She hasn’t seen them since Rose Heaven. They promised so much; delivered so little. She had to part ways, ask for a reassignment. And here she was. With the alien. Ruby. Her *bug*.

“So not too serious a bug.” Wonderlady starts to feel the wounds forming again. She must be close to something.

“Oh it’s *serious*. But indeed Little. Little in a different way, though. Like, see, *I’m* a kid.” Billie Jean Kidd was revealing so much without revealing anything at all she had to stifle a laugh here. “But I’m really not a kid. And I’m *serious* about that.” She couldn’t help herself. She let out 3 quick laughs, like fake ones except not. The cover was still in place, as Wonderlady then said:

“I’m going to the loo (restroom). Cover for me.”

When Wonderlady went into the bathroom to check her body for new openings, Billie Jean Kidd looked over at Ruby Alien and winked at her, which was reciprocated. The game continues…

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July 14, 2021 · 6:02 am

Fife

“Carrot… radishes,” Ruby Alien recites for Alysha down below, perhaps at roughly the same time as the Dr. Mouse-Jeffrey Phillips interaction one floor up but perhaps not. Maybe later in the day. Wait… Dr. Mouse was thinking back there that the shooting day was almost done. So let’s go with the “roughly the same time” framework. The light (Still Life) seems similar, etc.

“Yes, in Space you can play around with combinations, not worry about Earthly standards. And over there, a tomato pepper.” She points to the far array of plants in this particular greenhouse enclosure of the Mars or Mars-like base.

Ruby Alien glances nervously out the window into the surrounding dunes. The nearby big red mushrooms have dissolved into irresolved triangles. “The… fidgety one. He will — return?”

“Yes, don’t worry about him, Ruby my friend. My *alien* friend.”

“*Fellow* — alien,” Ruby corrected in her measured manner. She was slow but certainly not dumb. She knew she was safe — for now — in this airy place in the sky above the Angels airport. She was not lost now except to the ones she was suppose to be.  Alysha had reassured her several times that the nervous policeperson outside was merely a prop, and a buffoonish one at that, ready to shoot his foot off for a certain number of guffaws. “He comes with the territory,” she said. “This airy hill or mount.”

“Cut!” Ronald shouts from the side. “Done for the day!”

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July 12, 2021 · 5:40 am

ears for hears

As soon as I found a correct location to teleport in and sat down at the first table I saw, I realized I had not only visited here but I *lived* here. I recall Burro Alley. I recall the policeman, perhaps named Brown or maybe just living in a brownstone apartment. He was *after* me. He was asking two hookers about my location in an alley across from the alley (*The* Alley), but the one who cooperated didn’t actually know anything. The other did, but she was from the country. *My* country.

I was part of the Black Lake Bunch, also known as the Black Lake Gang or Purple Bunch. There was one in it who didn’t like me, didn’t approve of me. She said: why don’t you appear as you really are in this Second Lyfe of ours. She also mentioned the plug. I said the plug covers an avatar defect. I said it monitors the surroundings, giving me indication of friend or foe. Right now it was hurting like a mother fo. Red. Indication of foe. I moved away from her, unfriended her, even though we were never friends. Blocked I think is the word, yes. But the other remained kind of a friend, like Thatch. She was helping protect me. Red turns to green. The Alley is just across the way. There we find PROBABILITIES, exactly what I was looking for. An ESCAPE.

“Helloo Wanda,” spoke the woman nearest me after she turned. She had a mocha cappuchino in her hand, made by Stenson the nice black lady that I also recall. The woman with the cappuchino was named… funny I couldn’t recall, although I’d seen her face a lot. Gertrude. I think. Jacksonia Andrews approached from the west, bringing me a pink drink that I realized I ordered all the time. It was a given. “Thank you Jacksonia,” I said as she handed it to me, cool as glacier. “Just what I needed for my aching feet.” “Haven’t you got a transplant yet?” she asked. “You’ve been talking about a transplant for forever, Wanda. Also: hadn’t seen you around in a while. We figured… we figured you were back at The Factory.”

“Feet,” I said back, trying to remember what she spoke of. I remembered her name at least. Now to the details. *This* was a factory as well, I remembered. But faces, not feet. Alice over there, sitting with new hands on old knees. I then knew, I then recalled. Not just face: feet, hands, any body part could be remodeled and redone and revitalized. I was here because of my feet. I stayed in a brownstone apartment, but not next to the officer who was looking for me. I was on a waiting list. Jenny said they could fix me up.

I poured the cool, glacial water on my feet. I had just added 5 more minutes to my stay, with a total at 7 minutes now. I had time for a couple more angles of investigation. I knew quite a bit more already. I decided to talk to Alice. She worked at the airport as some kind of receptionist. A lot of people around here worked at the various airports dotting the continent. Planes kept this landmass alive, vital. It was at the crossroads of everything.

Then I remembered *The* Crossroads, like this place had *The* Alley. 61 and 49, green and gray. Back there at the Airton airport on the mountain that is also a hill there was a gray grey laying next to me. My duplicate was being formed, but they couldn’t figure out how to move gray into green by gaining 12. They weren’t working in base 12 and remained in base 10. I had been saved so far by their more primitive mathematics. But still: time was running out.

—–

The doctor got out of his car. He had been there all along, observing and listening, taking notes, just like me.

“I heard something about numbers. Should we be working with different numbers? Would that solve the problem?”

I hate when people get in my head like that.

(to be continued)

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July 11, 2021 · 4:18 pm

boy next door

I was five years old. And I was preoccupied with the prop that was in my hand, because it was a toy turtle. But I had to pretend it was a real turtle that the audience just wasn’t seeing, and it was dead, so I was supposed to be crying and very emotional, and I remember him looking at that little turtle and talking to me about how it was kind of funny to have to pretend that was dead. So I recall just a very relaxed first impression.

JOURNAL, DAY 5

I met Thatch at a Northern Sea location. He said (in essence), “Come with me and I’ll take you somewhere. Kings Stone,” he said. “Or maybe Kingston… King *Something*.” I knew he was trying to communicate effectively. I had just been to the place he perhaps indicated, but I wondered if it was really the jazz club in Kings Stone he meant. He seemed confused. I knew Kings Stone was next to Druids Post, and there was also a Kingpost to the west. Maybe Kingston was (instead) Kingpost. I would go to both locations and check. In the meantime, I noted that we, in this underwater location, were just next door to the Slaashsides community up in the air in the sim west of here. My neck was starting to hurt slightly. I knew I had to move. Here is a picture of Thatch. He claims he didn’t know what he was looking for here (in Our Second Lyfe), or whom. I told him that maybe he was looking for me, but he hesitated about becoming a friend. I of course knew to quickly back off, then.

His shirt appears to have the word KANE upon it. Or maybe, upon inspecting again, it was KANI.

I looked at the dress code rules (at the jazz club). I would not fit, perhaps. I would have to return, in a different costume. My energy was running low. My wrists above my feet were beginning to ache a little. My arm, where they punctured me with a willy tip day before yesterday’s tomorrow, was sore. My feet were sore. My RIGHT HEEL hurt a bit, always a bad sign. Sign of trouble. I would check out the second “Kingston” location of the night.

It was a small place, giving better indication that Thatch was a true messenger.

On to the second.

I had also been here before. I noted that there were cypresses, in its two expressions, dotting the doubled islands of the sim, its only land. I channel some of my energy from my right foot to my left foot to remain grounded. I had about 15 minutes before the pain would come back. I also decided to dip my feet in the (cool) water by dangling them over the edge of the pier.

I watched a helicopter land in the strait between the islands. It didn’t stay long enough to make friends with the pilot. Thatch might be the only avatar I talk with this night.

I noted from afar that the pilot then disappeared but his helicopter remained. This would be right on the line between Scar and Funnel. I noted that if you slash someone’s sides a scar would remain. A scar is also usually a line. The pilot appears to have “talked” to me after all. Slaashsides is the true destination.

I returned to Thatch and stole a bit of energy from his feet, since he now seemed inactive — AFK as the locals say. I calculated he wouldn’t mind. He was kind of my friend after all. Friends help friends. After draining the energy of his feet and also the wrists above them I figured I had 20 more minutes to work with than before, making a total of about 30 now. I had time to visit Slaashsides itself. Just next door.

(to be continued)

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July 11, 2021 · 7:45 am

new direction

She’d lost her spaceship. She thinks she may have left it back in what the locals called Mayberry, an airy mountain of a hill (or something). But she was too tired from all the walking and searching to get off these Lost Angel chairs right now. Maybe in a 1/2 an hour. But maybe: never. The many and the *done*. Truth be told, she was a variant character anyway and will probably not be missed.

—–

Troop was a truly important character though, and it’s baked into his name: True Opp. He started out as a “mere” toy, an Mmmmmm, just like his cousin Grassy from another mother who just happens to be sisters with his own. They don’t talk about Jerry any more. And Philburt is right out of any discussion between them. But Uranus… ahh, that’s a different topic and one that’s interested both of ’em for a long time, starting way back when Tropp, then just Opp or Campbell O’Pine, had his first (Sunklands blog) post dedicated to himself.

“Well it looks like I found it, Grassy,” he says 1/2 to himself, since the only other person in the room was only 1/2 listening. “Uranus; the blue planet.”

“There’s someone out there, in the dunes,” the other person spoke. “Someone… fidgety.”

“Okay, CUT! Let’s change fidgety to nervous. Is that okay, Campbell?”

In another scene later that day:

“Alright, then the crook comes in and you drop your gun and it hits the floor and goes off, hitting your right heel. This is going to be *hilarious*.”

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July 3, 2021 · 6:36 am

all together now

As Leslie Darlene continued to struggle with the water break, Ruby stared over at the girl who was always with her now, her Little Bug as she said she wanted to be called. “Cards are next,” she called over, stacking the last one on top.

The water was up to her wrists above her feet now. Aliens can have very different anatomies despite some surface similarities. Like two hearts.

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