Tag Archives: Salazar Gnome^*+

cake = lie

And so we end with Stiggy the Bluebird arriving early for her supposed birthday party, asking where the spectacular cake was Elanea promised to show her. Elanea said she’s it, then fired a tranquilizer dart right in her forehead between the eyes, then dragged her back into the kitchen to be prepared. One too many jokes about her amphibian nature for Elanea to stand. And she’d spewed the same racist type insults to people in powerful positions like reptilian Stu in Marketing, human Pamela in Waste Management, and, most importantly and most damning, to the Big Boy himself, calling him a [delete name]. To the Abyss she must go, he declared, which was his own personal word for the Void, having been raised a devout Tilist all those years ago, memories and rituals sticking like glue. The others decided the degree.

After the party, they prepared one cross that had the wrong year of death — had to be redone (too much partying, perhaps). A second, sturdier and more upright one was made by Harold the Carpenter, a gnome sent down by Head Office to do the task right, along with another named Jack who’d dig and fill in the grave. No coffin needed, though: no part of her remained to be buried by the time Elanea finished with the knives and saws and the gnomes arrived, not even her heart, deemed inedible from her species but which was still put into the cake just for spite and to rub it in all the way.

The bird was George.

Shelley’s still beating heart only pointed one direction after that. Biff Carter provided an interesting alternative but had aged 20 years overnight, thus eliminating him from the picture. Big Boy again, of course — [delete name] again the hurled insult. Only Arthur remained. And through him Liz. The marriage will take place at the beginning of the next section, 7 in a series of 6.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0617, Little Hell, Nautilus, NORTH, Omega^^, Southern

Every Man’s Land

“You again (!).”

“Yeah? What’ll it be?”

“What’ll what be?”

“Red or blue, bud. Good or evil I suppose. Dunno, don’t care. But you gotta choose to play,” he insisted.

“No,” said Newt. “You don’t understand. I’m just here to talk about Squared Root City with someone. Why this place — Ontario — and that place don’t get along, see.”

The fellow I’ve already seen several times in Ontario, including the groundside gun store where Arthur Kill was killed with a bullet to the heart by grown up Tessa at the end of the last photo-novel, just scratches his head. “Dunno anything about that. You might have to see the Mayor. Or even higher.”

“Mayor?” Newt parroted. “Higher?”

“Yeah, the King of course. I don’t know anything about this Root Squared City,” he insisted.

“Squared Root City,” Newt quickly corrected, but then thought about it. 3.16 x 3.16 is essentially 10, which is perfection (to us Pythagorean related TILERs). But then 3.16 is also pretty close to the circumference of a circle with a diameter of 1, and, in the case of City Park, County Park, Country Park, even closer. 3.14 to 3.15, maybe even 3.16 again. They are coded as All Ears because if Mickey Mouse’s face was turned into a matching circular ear it would exactly fit between all 3, copyright issues forever solved.

“I know this is space,” he continued, seeing the thoughtful look on Newt’s face, “but you can’t space out here. You gotta play or you gotta go. Orders.”

“Of who?”

“Dunno. Just came with the instructions.”

“Who do you work for?” The gun shop employee now space game arcade employee scratches his head again. “You gotta leave,” he insisted, and pointed to the lightsaber sign.

“I know I know,” said Newt, preparing to explore the rest of this space station. But first he had to ask permission to look out the window for a moment at all those glorious stars, perhaps some galaxies mixed in.

“Sure I suppose. 5 minutes. But then…”

“Gotta go, I get it.”

He walked toward the nearest window, stared out. Many of the illuminated dots were moving. Could these be spaceships? Newt pondered. And the colors (!). Not just white, but pink blue yellow. He could stare at it for days but he only had minutes, seconds now.

“Time’s up, bud,” he says oh too soon. But surely there will be other windows around the station with just as good a view, maybe better.

“Can I ask your name?” he said before leaving.

“Jack,” came the answer back. “Now… please.” He indicated the door.

“Goodbye Jack,” Newt said while walking out, knowing there was something to that name. Because, in some circles, perhaps the ones we just talked about, Jack was code for clone.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0108, Blue Mountain, City Park, Country Park, County Park, Wendy-Ontario

WTF

The woods speak once more. A gnome appears high on a local mountain in a place I generically term County Park, a more eastward counterbalance (or countybalance, ha) to our City Park and its Aloha village of toy avatars tucked under a thought-to-be sheltering rock on Mt. Tom. This is a taller mountain by about 500 feet: 4038 to around 3525. Name? Um, let’s leave that for now. Okay, let’s say The Knob. Anyway, the gnome appears off a trail quite a ways up it. Someone would have had to make a pretty good effort to get it there — the figure is a foot tall or close to it. A backpack would have been needed.

Salazar Jack or Jacob Gnome; Harry or Harold the Gnome; another child gnome who we know grows up to be Barry DeBoy; and now this, in a way the most miraculous of all. Is it an indication I should move all my toys from Mt. Tom over to this nearby location? Especially given the presence of a bee hole right on the edge of Aloha, and also mud dauber wasps threatening from above? Something to think about.

If only I could figure out a way to talk to the newly discovered toy avatar. Maybe through Barry? So many questions (as usual).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0102, Blue Mountain, City Park, Country Park, County Park

00340101

“I *know* this person,” thinks Wheeler at the door of the investigator/psychic’s interior office. She’s playing around with forms again, and this one is an extension of her recent consumption of fries with cheese at the nearby Twin Peaks bar and grill. File it under: you are what you eat. She thought she had 30 days before the skin turned green on this freebie avatar she’s attached to the outfit. Not as advertised; no wonder it was a budget item. She’s trying to become — but never mind. It’s not turning out. But that figure on the door (!).

“What was that Mrs. Corn?” Corn? she thinks. A last name? What’s the first? But she knows what it is.

“Oh… nothing. Just staring at the big eye on your door. It reminds me of someone.”

Psychic-detective Roberts pivots toward Mabel (Mabel!). “We’ve been through this.”

The situation changes.

—–

Jack barges in with his recently cleaned shovel. “Ma’am, the corpse is now bur — oh. Sorry. Didn’t know you were with someone.” Why would he? Miss Roberts never has any clients. Except dead ones. But this one appears to be alive. And green! Must be — but it couldn’t. Martian?

“Hi Harry,” he speaks over to the shorter figure standing beside her, also a gnome, also working for the firm.

“Hello Jacob,” as Harold calls Jack, which he doesn’t like but puts up with. Harry’s a nice guy. And a great carpenter. He did a fine job with this coffin. Extra long, but he made it fit.

“Just looking for the case, Mrs. Corn,” Roberts excuses herself to Mabel, now considerably smaller but just as green. Moreso, since she’s now wearing a Hannah Montana lime toned outfit, fresh from a concert at the Rooftop Inn over in mid-town. Where are we, then? The land description mentions an asylum. Is everyone here nuts? Could explain the outfit.

And the book! Just like the one at the newly established Table Room on Rooster’s Peninsula, where I live as a castle dweller, library in the center still. For now. A sprite was looking in it for information about her type, where she comes from, what are her weaknesses. This is Greenleaf, who also shows up in Towerboro standing on a big rock behind Dove, formerly Ivory, but still a sister to Ebony on the giant tree trunk dead in front of her: Deadwood. And the alphabit spread out on the forest floor below them, which they eat with a spoon one by one by one until they reach M, when *they’re* dead. Mmmmmm dead. Thirteenville.

But I feel like I’m needlessly complicating things again. Let’s back up more.

—–

“Okay, Mrs. Daigle. Let me just begin to look for that case we were just talking about. Oh — and Barry? You can take off your pyramid and go home now. I think you’ve learned your lesson well enough, young gnome.”

The striped dunce cap he was wearing! One and the same.

We must follow this figure and see what happens next.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0101, Cable Isle, Hana Lei^^

more

So many Jacks to think about now in 7 Stones.

Now which one of these dueling dudes is Jack? questioned apparent town leader Woody in his head.

Oh yeah: both of ’em.

And Jean Fade even indicated perpetually digging Salazar is a Jack as well, owner/creator of an ancient mythology detailing where Linden (Lime) World and World of Lemon originally split off from each other, one going forwards and the other heading backwards in space/time.

Fascinating.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0510, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

Jacksboro

Somewhat later, a tall, blue-ish gnome approached the side of the sunken pool from around one of the two giant cylinder rocks there, telling respectively swimming and sunbathing Woody and Wheeler he dug it. His name: Salazar, according to the object’s description. Beside him, a shorter, similarly red capped gnome protested Linden tier gauging, a subject reviewed in a post earlier this month by Baker Bloch to “newbie” Grassy Noll. I don’t know what the policeman has to do with any of this. Maybe he’s policing the protester?

Who lives in the nearby lemony VWX dust bunny fairy house remains a mystery. I don’t think it’s Salazar nor the other gnome, nor the policeman. Someone else.

Wait. I’m picking up something. A person named Jack lives there. Pretty sure of that.

So many Jacks, though, to choose from.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0507, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus