Tag Archives: Shelley Struthers^^++

a type of Central Park

“I remember it like it was still there. I can see it now, actually. Collagesity. Just over there beyond the wall, spreading north and south for quite a while. Almost a sim long at the end it was. I miss it.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“It will be there for us. In perpetuity. I will keep working on it.”

“That is appropriate.” Wheeler-as-Franklin starts wondering when Baker-as-Albert was going to leave. Best to get back into character as soon as possible. Breaking the 4th wall is fine and all, but has limitations. If you break it down all the time then there’s no story to tell in the end. It just gets shoved back in your face as you stare at the computer screen. Maybe they should talk of Newt; Wheeler’s own marriage. How Shelley was made on that spaceship which sucked them into the sky over 3 decades ago. How Newt is now a Whitehead in Da Woods and retired and relaxed and comfortable now, within his limitations which is, in a way, the same as the boundaries of his Real Life county which affords so much hiking and outdoor activity. Haze County we may call it — we’ll see. For its mountaintop fog, some will say in partial truth.

“Unch and Apples should return,” says Wheeler. “We should get on to the story. Why are we hiding here in the most obvious place to look which is also the least obvious place, given that Collagesity is no more and there’s no reason to keep hanging around? Hidden in plain sight is another way to put it… are you writing all this down?”

“Yes,” I say back. As Baker Bloch in the moment in the form of Albert the prevert. She stares at me. I stare back. I realize she means *now*. I look in my outfit inventory. Apples is near the top but I have to dig back again for Unch. Should have moved it up with the rest.

“Hold on,” I say, still searching.

She tries to stay calm with deep breaths. So disorganized, she can’t help but think.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0110, Collagesity Fordham-, Lower Austra, Nautilus

recentering

“We’re both tall for our species,” spoke Albert. Maybe we should bury the hatchet, get together. You’d have to have an operation of course. I’m not taking what you have down there currently.”

“You’re joking, right?” Sometimes it was hard for Franklin to tell.

“Of course.” Albert was somewhat reformed, having almost died over at Sporminore in the last photo-novel, 35 (period). He’s kind of seen the light. He returned his butterfly curtains from his formerly very special room to Curtis’ just the other day. I believe we have a photo of him doing so in the media library, along with some attached dialog…

Yes, here:


“You’ll have to trade them in.” “That’s fine.”

“So I come here looking for the Umbrella girl and instead find you. Under an umbrella.” He looked over, he looked up. “Explain.”

“We’re different people,” said Franklin. “I sit on the blue pillow, which represents positivity.”

“I resent that,” shot back Albert quickly. “*I* represent positivity… in the now.”

Franklin realized this was so. More memories kicked in. She was Shelley before, but also, behind that, Wheeler. She was Wheeler. She *is* Wheeler. She took him in, realizing she was sitting beside fellow core Baker Bloch instead of prevert Albert. Only the blackbird linked them together. And the hat(s).

“Take off your hat, Albert, and I’ll know that you speak the truth.” Could he?

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0104, Nautilus, Perch-Mistletoe, Upper Austra

in the most-least obvious place

“Oh, we’ve looked everywhere for Franklin. Franklin Hollow here. Hootin Holler just a holler away to the north. Nothing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We’ll find her.”

“Absorption.”

“Yes.”

Afterwards, Baker Bloch, in whatever guise he’s in at the moment, thinks that he needs to set up extra protection around Shelley, convince her of her supreme long term worth, her *extraordinary* nature. He didn’t think Franklin could emerge back out of her but also might be wrong. Small chance, but there. Roberts cannot be underestimated.

—–

meanwhile, in *Fordham*:

“You stay here with me and play backwards-forwards guitar, Franklin. Us greenies gotta stick together. Right Unch?” she calls up, then pretends to hear a, “right Apples,” from the tree behind her in place of “mere” leaf rustling.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0103, Bellisaria, Collagesity Fordham-, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Varmint Hills

Jem’s World

“Well, my name is Gemilly Johnston — Jem for short — and these are the books I’ll be keeping up with (!).”

So cheerful that first week, she says, reviewing her introductory video, whiskey sour in hand as usual when looking at this type of stuff. So many videos in her collection now. But this was one of the clean ones, before the dirt and grime of the city, this Dodgey City, became fully evident, thanks to John. *Not* Jim.

“I live about 1500 meters up in a nice house with a beautiful perpetual sunset, right on the beach. See? (she indicates a hand, an arm) I’m already working up a tan (!).”

If I could go back and kill her — myself — I would, thinks Jem here, wanting to wipe that ridiculous smile off her face with a rag of acid. OK, maybe Texas Pete.

“The house is owned by John L. Brown, who is also my boss, who is also my, ahem…”

Boyfriend? thought present Jem. Fat chance.

“… cousin,” past Jem completed her sentence.

Wait, is that possible? present Jem thought. She reversed the video, started over. At 2:32: “cousin” again. She doesn’t remember saying that. Plus it wasn’t true (!!).

—–

But John L. Brown for one knew it was and changed the wording yesterday after also slyly suggesting she take a day off for mental health reasons and look at old videos from the archive to soothe her nerves, especially recommending — or starting with — the one she’s viewing right this moment. Jem eventually figured this out as well as she continued to sip (or at least try to contain it to a sip) on one of her whiskey sours and ponder and ponder. Cousin — that aspect conveniently forgotten, conveniently wiped from memory, just like she was trying to wipe the happiness and naivety from her past self’s face back then in her imagination. She imagines someone standing behind her, looking at her as if on a video, trying to wipe something from *her*.

“John L. Brown,” she muttered with Texas Pete, add a little Oklahoma from beyond the screen. She turned (toward the camera?). Time for my close-up.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0101, Nautilus, Oklahoma, Texas, Wild West

00350707

It was at the end and not the beginning but the marriage finally came through.

“Do you have a problem with this?” Newt ask in a low voice as the I do’s were being said. “Speak now, you know.”

“Why would I have any problems with this?” said Wheeler back. “Shelley would just run around with other men behind his back if she married George. This way she’ll be happy. Or at least have a chance to be.”

“Do you, Shelley, take Lemont slash Arthur…”

“And there’s always Liz,” whispered Newt.

“Yes.”

“Should we end there? Again?”

“Why not.”

“You may kiss the bride.”

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2022 LATER”!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0707, Nautilus, NORTH

00350706

“So, Residents of Paradise Lost, we, Shelley and I, head back to Omaha, which is in Oklahoma after all!”

“You’ll never make it!” shouted Fern below, reunited with Lichen since the latter was finished with her horse subplot. Poor Liz. “Wrong state, buddy!” she clarified.

But Abbey Abdominator, the Grey who was also several other people of this town, as in an actor playing multiple roles in the same film,* knew exactly how this thing worked… and ended. “So long everyone!” he said as the balloon rose into the sky and he expertly maneuvered it due north, soon enough dwindling to a point and gone as the few townspeople gathered on the rooftop at the launching pad kept staring….

Shelley snapped awake, pulling away from The Void, The Emptiness. Arthur, she immediately thought. I’ve got to tell Arthur!

—–

*SEE: Harry/Jerry, MessiaenSphere, Wizard Wells, Big Boy, Billy Bloodsworth, others

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0706, Little Hell+, Nautilus, Omega, Southern

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

deeper South now…

“How much to see Arthur?” she said out of the side of her mouth while eating. Or at least pretending to eat.

Jerry sighs. He’s not even going to try to correct her again. “10,000,” he says not crisply, like before, but resigned. He doesn’t even look at her, which was customary before a sale to show he’s earnest about the deal.

“Roll me a three, Earnest,” he says over to the cigar toking taker across from him. “1000 on the 3.”

Roll…

“Okay, that’s the last one,” Earnest says, watching it come up again. 10 ones. What are the odds? “Closing up, Harry. Gotta get back to the ball and chain for a little ball breaking heh heh.”

“Jerry,” corrects the actor about the name. He looks offstage at the director, slumping over a bit. “Geez, Kurt. What is that, the 10th time?” He rolls his eyes for everyone around, not hiding his frustration — or was it amusement? — any longer.

“Just do it in the same take,” came the opinion in a steady, non-agitated voice from the side. “Start with the flubbed sentence.”

The actor playing Earnest clears his throat a bit, then: “Closing up, Jerry. That’ll be 10,000 dollars. Gotta get back to the balls and—” He starts laughing, snorting even, joined by some offstage. 11, he thinks while rolling the dice just for kicks this time, then laughs even more at the results.

—-

Meanwhile, nearby Jimmy watches the cubes keep coming as a pawn falls off the table.

Or was it Johnny?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0612, Little Hell+, Omega, Southern

00350608

“We’ll never get out of here, Vineyard, you know that. They’re not going to stop until we’re all dead.”

Wizard Wells’ fellow winged companion in the moment was staring at Shelley’s shirt, trying to forget his troubles. “What is… Pepper?”

“Old sham presidential candidate,” she answers. “Same with this.” She changes into another.

“Nifty,” says leafy, veiny Vineyard, also wondering about the black hands. Was she turning black overall? Yin (back) into Yang? Maybe its just the panic from the impending… doom. After a moment of lightness, his heart sinks again.

—–

“You’re next, Magenta,” guard Jettison called through the chain fence topped with barb wire. “You free ones can’t flitter away from us forever. We’re working on it, mind you. We’ll get there.”

It was a kind of threat Magenta heard every day around 2 o’clock. When she showed up to encourage her friend’s cousin Wizard. Hang in there, she thought from her tree. The outer one hadn’t given up hope even as the inner one resigns to termination.

But what was Shelley doing here in a fairy concentration camp?

Let’s try something else for more clarification:

Yikes, *another* one, thought Harlie, now up above it all in a large guard tower station. The purple cubes were appearing *everywhere*.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0608, Little Hell+, Omega, Southern

00350607

She thought of another answer while chopping pepper for the big meal. George was coming over! Or was it Arthur? Anyway, she thought of this: I *love*, that George’s backwards guitar was destroyed in the Moray Docks explosion when that new Tar Guit appeared over top of it. BOOOM! she recalled joyously. That can replace the “resourceful” answer, #4 I believe.

“She’s gone,” Baumbeer speaks later to Newt about the poor girl’s mind. “But I know where she is.”

“I’ll go see her,” replies the father not father-in-law. “No need to bring the boy in the picture,” he says half to himself. “He’s already heartbroken enough.”

“Let me know if I can help more,” spoke Baumbeer into the receiver to finish. He hangs it up. On a clothes hanger.

Newt rings Shelley up. I mean, he calls her. Since the wedding is off and he’s no longer the Best Man. Thus the meal.

“Newt!” she modifies again, moving to the cucumber or tomato next. “The father-in-law.” Her face squinches up. “Father *in-law*?”

They meet at the same gazebo in the sim’s corner. Property called Sim’s Corner. The Void’s energy was just loosened enough so he could reach over and straighten up the blouse on her shoulder. Pepper t-shirt no. 1 she wore now. Small successes before bigger ones, he thinks, staring at the daughter he didn’t know he had until the end of the last photo-novel, 34 in [delete rest of sentence].

“Wheeler says to say hello,” he starts again, trying to jolt more memories. Does she remember the spaceship? Of course not, Newt thinks. Too young. Shelley says say hello to Wheeler back, even though she doesn’t know who that is. She’s trying to mask her big big problem. And where’s George? Or was it Arthur?

“Your… *mother*,” Newt says to this, understanding she doesn’t recognize the name. “George — you know George, right?”

“Georges,” she says, which Newt lets slide.

“Anyway, *your* George says you look a lot like her. You even have some of the same tattoos.” Kind of odd, Newt thinks here but, again, lets it slide; chalks it up as another disturbance of The Void.

—–

“You’re batty I tell you. *Batty*!”

“Out of my way, whoever you are! *Whatever* you are!”

“W-where you going, dude? Nothing left but *me*.” She starts dancing and dancing with her weapon. Hypnotizing. Just like on the bus. It was her.

Shelley wakes up. What did I do to *Johnny*, she immediately thinks. We go back to that point. That’s where she began to lose it. The baby. My baby!

She was the baby.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0607, Little Hell+, Omega, Southern