Tag Archives: Shelley Struthers^^++++

October 6, 2021 · 8:17 am

levity needed

By 9 o’clock she had him sweeping the floor while she kept reading recipes, trying to decide. One thing she knew, butter would be involved — not glisteny enough now. She floated some toward her from the table.

Peter Cotton wasn’t surprised, because of the hat and all. And he’d heard rumors in the village about witchcraft up on the hill. So when Hatti propositioned him in the streets of VHC City after his shift at the mill he thought he’d give it a try — something new. His current girlfriend Frieda Friendly wasn’t hacking it for him in the bedroom right now. He desired something a bit more, um, magical? Maybe. Different anyway. He didn’t know, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he wanted change, and change he would get. If he wasn’t killed first by the dinner.

Peter Cotton was best friends with Tommy Tailgate, who also got propositioned in this merry month of May (or August (or October)). He was also on a date. “Excuse me while I go powder my knees,” said Shelley Struthers later on at her Top o’ the Hill Hooktip apartment containing that ultra mysterious and perhaps ultra powerful triple number of the sim: 135, 135, 135, highest on Heterocera’s Diagonal as a whole, with an old name of Head. There was no Heart now, so the additional description of Head wasn’t needed no longer. There was only one. Art’s place along with the proximate heart is gone. Abandoned land. “You just sit there on the ottoman,” she requested, knowing it would eventually work its magic if he stayed still long enough. 135, 136, 135. Very close. Close enough, as indicated.

Shelley stared into the bedroom mirror and it mysteriously cracked. Didn’t seem like a good omen. Maybe she should have a rethink about her vanity, she rationalized. Go tell Tommy to move from the ottoman to the couch. A calmer, cooler date to begin, yes. And go out to eat as well.

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October 5, 2021 · 6:17 am

Head

5 til 3! she thought while looking out at the big Hooktip clock tower with her red and white umbrella peepers. I’ve got to get going!

I put on the garb of a white mage tonight, trying to act like I knew what I was doing. I was able to sit down on a diamond shaped plot of good ol’ actual Linden grass in a mainly artificial terrain constructed by the land owner of this little forest here, one Clare Nova. Remember her? Anyway I was smack dab on the Diagonal, at, let’s see, 36, 35. Close enough, as they say. One off of any of the two (or three) numbers is okay — difficult to tell any difference in the, um, energy, quote unquote. “It’s often not what’s right on The Diagonal,” I say to myself almost religiously, “it’s what you *see* from it.” Like that clock in the background Shelley Struthers up in the middle of the sim might be looking at at the same time. Actually, nope, in checking she’s put on that long Pepper shirt she likes now and is starting to brush her luxurious blonde hair (to her) in front of the vanity mirror. One stroke, she counts, two… three. Always 30 and she’s perfectly beautiful, almost as much as Ginger Granite down the lane. She can never get her bearings in this sim for some reason. What was its name?

30.

She splashes water on her face and prepares to face the world.

Today is the day she’s going to get up the nerve to speak to Tommy Tailgate, maybe goad him into asking her out. Goad? How about “guide”? She wants to get better at doing such things. Like Ginger again.

*Shelley*. That was the name of the lane. Like her!

There. Picture perfect.

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October 4, 2021 · 8:17 am

00290212

“The Neat Town moss people never received that big squid or octopus and so the red and white lighthouse remained on the green, no one else able to move it, not even jointly,” Kick-ass Boos recites from the top bunker again, joint still in hand, although almost small enough to require pliers. “Dwarfed, they were,” he finished.

Well that’s a nice story, thought Axis-Windmill from the lower bunk bed opposite him. But it doesn’t explain my dream where I lost my hands!

—–

Claude looked over at Paul, realizing if he bent his will there might be no leaving this place, ever. The 20000 lb. lighthouse could not be budged; time to call in reinforcements.

“Sorry I’m late.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0029, 0212, Maebaleia/Satori, Neat Town, Pennsylvania

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September 25, 2021 · 8:45 am

resident but perhaps not evil

He waited for the security orb to kick in but it never did. He was INSIDE. Triple number for Hooktip, or close enough — 1 off.

Who to celebrate this occasion with? Why his wife of course: Martha Lamb. Or maybe (since animations are limited)… Shelley. Yes: Shelley.

She was, as usual, speed reading the famous or infamous red book, take your pick. It’s also flame retardant she’s heard.

“Hi Shelley. Sorry to hear about your castle.”

“That’s okay (read read read). There’s another one already there (read read). And Jacob’s I. (read) is asleep back on the bench at the Prog Rock Museum (read read read read read).”

“So I’ve heard.” Sid wanted to ask the obvious. Was this his daughter? ‘Nother one?

Sid was gone. Shelley was all grown up, having been through her Firesign Theatre period (“Piera”) and loving it. “Uncle Meatwad” — soo funny. Queer as well, but mainly funny. Both at once. It was all in the book…

… which was in her eyes now.

(to be continued)

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September 17, 2021 · 6:41 am

3 2 1

One year and 2 1/2 months. Herbert can do it.

Jacob I. had fallen asleep once more at the Prog Rock Museum located on the neck of Rooster’s Peninsula. Herbert’s neck hurt again… Anastasia, he thinks. Alysha. Things have changed. She gave him a ring and he gave her one back. It was the only way to end the madness.

He thinks of the Diagonal across the Chalet sub-continent of Bellisaria, as it’s called by many if not most. Snowball in Hell at the center, but heading to Scratchy — reality. Not in a Second Lyfe any longer. Retirement. Wholeness; fulfillment. Perspective.

Collagesity will remain… across the Diagonal and into the Great Beyond at the end. I will not keep Shelley’s Castle on the peninsula, although it’s a perfect *perfect* fit. Hmm.

NOPE. Collagesity should remain.

—–

He extends his draw distance and spies the castle in the distance. It’s the wrong one, but that’s okay. It’s fitting only 1 remains.

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August 28, 2021 · 8:47 am

new neighbors

“You know that’s (*yawn*), my castle up there, Hoppy (stretches arms). This place is soo relaxing.”

Windmill Man, named to be changed soon, realizes he has a lot of time to learn the ins and outs of this here Rooster’s Peninsula, since he plans to stay a while. Does this mean the end of Fordham’s Collagesity down in Lower Austra? Could be. He must confer with town leader Jeffrey Phillips and right hand man Man About Time soon. Couple of weeks. But first…

… the Prog Rock museum down at the neck of the peninsula, and where Shelley (daughter?) recently woke up Jacob I. and allowed him to return. The sleeper has awoken; Roost Never Sleeps.

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August 24, 2021 · 9:34 am

00280211

“I can’t see the castle on this peak either, Shelley.”

“Silly. There *is* no castle on that peak. Not any more. Not for a long time. The reason you couldn’t see it on the other peak we just looked at is because your draw distance was too short. Don’t you know *anything* about Our Second Lyfe, tee hee?”

“Suppose not.”

“That’s where Ruuster’s castle use to be, though. Some say he was an actual rooster, a creature. Some say he was called that because he *roosted* on the peak, like some kind of bird, rooster or no. My papa taught me that. Said sometimes there’re multiple ways of looking at the same thing and sometimes none is right but at the same time *all* are right. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“Suppose,” he repeated. Shelley started wondering about his brain, and maybe she didn’t finish the boy properly — left holes where thoughts should be, rationalization. “You say… we’re suppose to get married.”

“Um huh.” He was still staring at the empty beige peak, perhaps 50 meters higher than the one they are on. He was staring at himself.

“Can you elaborate? I mean, it’s rather shocking that you know that.”

“I can see the future.” He turns. “You can see the future. We are all angles.”

“Angels?” She purposely misheard him but he didn’t laugh, didn’t get the joke or just didn’t care. Maybe both are right, she realized: angles *and* angels. Are *they* angels?

George turned back to the beige mountain seen through the diamond paned window. “Roost never sleeps. It’s an ironic name, then, because that’s what birds or roosters or whatever are suppose to do when they roost. Sleep.”

Maybe his brain is alright after all. Those are pretty deep thoughts he’s thinking there, she thought, pondering the irony herself. Her daddy had said the same thing. Roost never sleeps, corrupted to rust never sleeps.

George looked down from the peak to the green grounds below. “Well well well, if it isn’t the Wells.” Why did the boy say *that*? Is someone actually approaching? Or was this just more word play?

“They’re trying to find the front door,” he then said. “Better go down and help them”

“The… neighbors?” she guessed. He just stared at her again and then extended his arm. “After you.”

(to be continued)

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August 24, 2021 · 9:11 am

Castle

Mine all mine. But what to *do* with it?

Maybe meet the neighbors if possible. The twin castle to mine!

And papa told me to guard this sword with my life. It can’t move! I suppose that means the castle will be derezzed with the sword, since they’re interconnected. Stabber of Lemon, he said. Told me the whole story once when I was small. Oh how I wish he were here to tell it again! My poor papa.

I will make this my room, my home base in the castle. I can look after it better that way.

I need friends! Oh… the other castle… on the peak almost equally as high as my own. Might as well say they’re the same. Papa would know all about it, I suppose.

I will *make* friends in the meantime. Up in my head, I mean. And then they pop up in reality. Like you. Who are you?

“My name is George,” he said to her with his newly minted lips, reading her mind of course. Since it was his mind as well. “And I am your future husband.”

“Cool!”

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August 23, 2021 · 9:14 am

Crux

Shelley Struthers knew there were too many birds and other creatures in this *TILE* location to make an unified decision on the matter of Kolya and his holey head. She’d have to look elsewhere for answers. Her thoughts turn toward the castle that will soon perch on an important peak to the north. *Her* castle.

There’s already one in the area, and at about the same altitude on its own, nearby peak. Spacious and beautifully landscaped grounds surround it, which we’re eager to keep exploring. This won’t be the case with Shelley’s castle due to much more limited space to work with but we’ll try our best.


Shelley’s castle footprint

And in the past, another roosted on this higher peak to the northwest. The legendary Rust Never Sleeps.

Jacob I. the lawnmower is still on the same northern peninsula. “Wake up,” Shelley whispers while prodding.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0209, Nautilus, NORTH, Rooster's Peninsula, Upper Austra

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August 15, 2021 · 11:22 am

third angle

Cory watched the flames licking out the top of the building, thinking it didn’t have to be this hard. Why I could have blown the place up with my mind easily enough, he thought from his position at the corner of the sandbox. All I need is a pretty good night’s sleep (for energy). Indeed, most of the kids attending Paper-Soap school, merged since ’71, were psychic to a high degree. They didn’t need primitive *physics* to destroy anything. Claude Jr. was behind the times, but he was a robot after all, mere mechanoid. The other kids tried not to make fun of his clunky, nay *dense* ways of thinking, but it was difficult, being kids too after all and not having the moral compass of a fully mature adult. One of their “sloooow” projects in class, as they called it, was the atrophying of the swamp down in the town’s southwest corner. In fact, Cory’s study group had brought up the swamp from lake to sea back down to swamp a good number of times now, and recorded the reactions of the residents living around it. The kids were experimenting on the adults. The kids were in charge. As a sea it flooded the sewer tunnels. Dinah’s bartender Stumpy wondered why he could never get rid of the black mold in the bathroom down there. He ended up just having to derezz the thing.

“Can you point me to the restrooms,” a somewhat tipsy customer asked him in tomorrow’s today. “Just go in the sewer outside like everyone else,” he commanded, wondering if he should bring the issue up to the town council, a council also controlled by kids of course. Their powers were ever-present.

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