Tag Archives: Shirley Boot^^

ending 01

“Don’t you guys watch anything but MTV?” complained Bill/Wheeler good-naturedly.

“I’m telling you Queen Bill.”

“Bill, please. Or The Bill. Whichever.”

“You were sitting *right* there when you told me we had to move our trailer here to Rubi. Well, not in that chair, but the chair I use to have over in Obscure.”

Bill tested the springs again a little. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about this furniture — we’ll get you a better chair. And the toilet in the living room!

Unacceptable. I’ll get Clyde the town fixit man out here as early as I can. He’s working on the pipes of the Oo’d Church this weekend. But we’ll get him out here asap.”

“The dining room set is nice,” states Angus Nuffin, attempting to paint a brighter picture of their situation than Bill.

“No, this is my responsibility. I’m early in my rulership. I’ll right the wrong.”

“Okay, that’s great Bill. We really appreciate it. Now… back to that night you visited me in Obscure…”

—–

“She just doesn’t remember it,” Angus complains to his daughter Ragdoll later on while sitting at the dining table. “And I don’t know how to jog her memory. She’s new at her job — *I’m* new at this. Indigo can *hypnotize* with the best, but unhypnotizing someone like Bill (he was going to say, “as stubborn as” but decided on “like” here) — not as easy as I, we, supposed.”

Ragdoll listened intently. “Then maybe The Diagonal itself should wake her up. Indigo could take her on a walk in the woods…” She paused, thinking of a better idea. “Or…”

“Obviously, Obscure is no good, since we moved the trailer from there because of the lowered energy.”

Ragdoll remained patient, knowing her beloved father was under a lot of pressure right now to bring back Bill’s memories. “What I was going to say,” she continued in her kind way, “is that we should take her to a particular place on The Diagonal. But not Obscure.”

“Right, right. Sorry I interrupted you there.” Distracted by a sound behind him, Angus looked at the clock. 2:01 in the morning. “We better get some sleep. Looks like Indigo is staying in the woods again tonight. Good for her! I couldn’t ask for 2 more dedicated daughters to the cause. Pot-D forever!”

“Pot-D forever!” echoed Ragdoll almost as enthusiastically.

“Before you turn in, sweetie, let’s take one more look at your brand new alternate self.”

“Okay, but only if you change in turn,” replied Ragdoll sweetly.

“Alright, Zero. On the count of 3, then. 1…2…”

“You look great, Ragdoll.”

“Shirley, please. When I’m in this form.”

“Of course.” Angus/Sid watched Ragdoll/Shirley scratch again. “But we have to give you something for those fleas, birthday girl.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Rubi

Bumpy’s

Shirley Boot approached the ice cream truck cautiously. “You’re not Lavern,” she says while walking up.

“And you’re not Shirley.” Shirley Boot looks down.

—–

Dr. Ice Cream, as the many eyed being is calling herself now, serves Bendy a triple dip chocolate twirl. “So, there you go (!)”

Bendy gently but firmly grasps the loaded down cone with his metal claw and begins to gobble up. Soon he’ll have an ice cream headache, but that’s a worry for later. Cool, delicious triple dip twirl for now! Yum yum yum, nom nom nom.

“Heard you had quite the scare the other night,” the doctor says conversationally. “Thought Fisher ran off with a younger man on ya.”

“Woman, actually,” he manages between gobbles. “Yellow.”

Dr. I.C. stares at Bendy. “Racist?” she questions about him aloud.

“No… Lisa?” Dr. I.C. continues to stare, as if she can see his insides. Bendy then realizes she’s talking about him. “No, no, no,” he defends between nom nom noms. “*Actual* color. Cartoon color. And she’s got a missing yellow brother that I know on good word is still here… on the island. Just invisible to the eye unless you know *exactly* where to look.”

“Then he’s a butthole, an anus,” Dr. I.C. declares, thinking of the planet Uranus.

“He does have the degenerative male Smipsons gene,” Bendy offers, trying to excuse Bartholomew’s natural bastardliness a bit. Another delicious gob of triple dip slides down his gullet.

“Oh I think he has a choice,” counters Dr. I.C, wiping down the counter. “I see a lot. I know the ins and outs of people around here… people everywhere. He’s invisible because he’s a menace to societal law. Refuge. As bad as Big Red Butler if you ask me. Go ahead… ask me.”

Bendy takes 2 quick licks and does what Dr. I.C. requests. “Um, *is* he as bad as, er, Big Red Butler?”

“Yes. Now ask me something else. I have the answers to most everything if you pries around my corners.” Oh look, she then thought evily. What’s that just around the corner of my truck? Beyond the kiln mysteriously placed just in the way.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

rainbows

—–

“These books over here have no title. They must be the important ones. The ones behind the rules.”

“I don’t feel comfortable here,” replied the almost 13 year old Shirley Boot to middle-of-15 Ruby. “Eraserhead Man could come back from one of his ramblings with Robot Derak Jones at any time.”

“Relax,” assured Ruby, still standing tall after the events of the night before up at Hilltop Pool. The Sun Rose. “We have permission to be here. I was *born* here… in the Rabbit Hole.”

“Then what about *him*?” Shirley rolls over and points down to the floor below them. “Mr. Transparent,” she adds glibly.

“Oh he’s just a halfway person. A portal effect. Nothing to worry about. As long as we don’t sit in the chair and try to knit or something. Just do like I said and don’t sit in the chair.”

“Oh I *won’t*. I never had any intention of sitting in that chair.”

“It’s EM’s chair and that is that. It’s a portal thing… ‘nother one. But this raised floor, the books (she waves at the bookshelf in front of her), even the toilet over there just behind the wall… fair game. The table below us as well. It’s just the chair…”

“So you keep saying.” Shirley was itching to talk about men again… boys. She wondered if she should pull out the spliff she has in her pocket and light up. Does Ruby smoke? Is she *cool*?

“I saw the Man in the High Castle outside today,” the 15 year old then said, reimagining the scene. “Checking out EM’s small palm grove. And I’m sure he spotted Annie’s easel and cherry chair there as well. He owns the land, you know. But he didn’t delete the objects. Curious, huh? And he’s just enlarged his castle toward Mabel’s house; you know, the Scarlet Creative Sylvia House. The castle’s west wall is practically in her front yard now.”

Potheads, Shirley then thought, seeing Marty Bendy and Jay Fisher milling about in their strange ways upstairs. New Island Studios, humph. Maybe I should excuse myself and head over there instead. Always up for a smoke those two are.

Ruby was thinking along the same lines — how to excuse herself without seeming rude. But they stuck with each other tonight, unable to break the magnetic attraction. Not that either was gay or anything. But there was a close friendship forming for sure. One needed the other. Despite the 2 1/2 year difference in age. Shirley needed to cut down on the smokes, especially at her tender age. Ruby just needed someone to discuss High Castle stuff, dunes and island morphology, and so on. Annie had gone too far down Pill Popper Lane now, an understood cul-de-sac.

So Ruby and Shirley went back to Mabel’s house and lounged around the dining table. Ruby read some favorite passages from Mabel’s 3rd Diary to Shirley while Fisher and Bendy, now downstairs, sat on the couch behind them here and stared at various, small insects that flew within range. “A gnat,” Bendy blurted at one point just before he ate it.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

foundation

“You should really get something for that itch, Shirley,” spoke Ruby to her new friend while posing on an effigy of island legend Jim Turtle at sunrise, not far behind Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village. “Sand fleas don’t really seem to be bothering anyone else around here that I know of.”

“I think it’s actually a sexual thing. I’ll be 13 in two week; coming of age you know. I look at men — differently now.”

Ruby decides to open up a bit more about a related topic. “My Aunt Annie is looking at men different now too.”

Shirley scratches her left underarm. “What do you mean?” The tomgirl was secretly wondering how old Ruby was and hoping she would tell her, along with also talking about how she feels around boys now. Shirley was guessing: about 15. Old enough to know a lot more than her on the subject.

“Oh… she just looks at them like, I don’t know, *objects* now. Pieces of art.”

“Like the stuff we just saw?”

Ruby considered this, thinking back to Smelly Santy, Tronesisia, and the rest at API. “Yeah, I guess it’s not too much different. No Hazel tonight thankfully. Thank you for coming with me.”

Shirley was scratching the top of her hinny now. “No problem, my fellow New Islander. *Lady* New Islander. We girls here must stick together. Against all those men.”

Ruby knew what she meant. Objects, hmph. Like we were made of plasticine or something. Movable, bendable toys. Annie was just joining the crowd, doing what Romans do or whatever the expression was. She was falling into the rhythm and beat of the land, Ruby then thought and was pleased she came up with the phrasing. “Do you think this island has a pulse?” Ruby tried to reword it in better terms. “You know, like a, um, fundamental *tone*?” Ruby rolls over on the turtle and looks directly at Shirley Boot now, gauging her expression, the green terrain of what would later be known as Pimushe Isle jutting out of the sea in the background.

“Sea,” Shirley then uttered out of the blue without consideration.

“C?”

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

Spliff Village

Shirley Boot returned to Yd Bay on Wednesday, ostensibly to sail her FB Lollygagger Raft 2.0 around the northern shore of New Island again. Secretly she was hoping to see the nice nude man again which caused such a different kind of itch in her the week before. But to her amazement, little Yd Isle out in the bay where the man had been standing was on fire today!

Shirley pondered calling the island’s fire department but then decided against it. Yd Isle was surrounded by water, of course — the fire would not spread beyond. And the 3 linden palms, the only things growing upon it as far as she knew, were obviously already goners. So she just sat on the shore and watched, but the flames never seemed to die down. Eventually she became bored and went back to her house on the other side of Mt. Sondra. She didn’t mention the spectacle to her parents for fear of getting in hot water trouble.

Today Shirley scanned the morning edition of the “New Island Gazette” for any news of the fire. Nothing. Did anyone even *notice*? she wondered, sipping on Earl Grey tea and taking another bite of one of those fresh cheddar biscuits brought down by nice neighbor Ms. Frame last night. She read the paper more carefully, front to back and then back to front. Still nada on the fire, but the blurb about New Island Studios she kept running across then began to strike her as kind of queer in itself. 3 palms again  — did these stoner guys Marty and Jay get the inspiration for their blurb’s isle from Yd Isle itself? Maybe *they* would be upset that the trees had burned down.

So on a whim, Shirley Boot decided to give fledgling New Island Studios a ring, since the number was right in front of her. 709-576-8220. Leaving off the area code since the call was local (in fact, all of New Island belonged to 709) she pecked the number into her smart phone.

“Hello, ‘New Island Gazette’,” a friendly female voice on the other side of the line spoke. Shirley hung up. “Stupid stoners,” she muttered. “Gave the number of the paper in their blurb and not their own business.” She decided to make a hike of it this morning and go directly to their office, since she knew the physical location. Behind Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village, near the center of the island; not more than a 15 minute walk from here. That way she could pick up more pot spliffs from that Corsican gal Laverne Glam who should be working at the Village today, and also thinking a, um, business warming gift, ha ha, might be appropriate for the likes of two self professed stoners. Then Shirley considered:  Maybe it was just the pot the day before making the bay isle burn, hmm. But she was pretty sure it wasn’t. Pretty sure…

… until she revisited Yd Bay on her way over. The 3 palms still stand! It’s as if nothing had happened, nothing at all. And perhaps, she decided, it hadn’t.

Still, a visit to Bumpy’s Ice Cream Village and then New Island Studios seemed to be in order since she was already about halfway there.  And Shirley needed Laverne’s spliffs more than ever now!

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

Das Boot.

12 year old, sand flea ridden Shirley Boot was scratching the top of her fanny before boarding the FB Lollygagger Raft 2.0 when she saw something glimmering on Yd Isle out in the bay, almost at the exact same place where Mabel was standing the day before when she found the talking red violin.

Taking a closer look, she suddenly had another itch which couldn’t be satisfied.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island