Tag Archives: Spaced Ghost^*$

end 04

Before heading over to Kowloon, Jer Left Horn makes a stop in VHC City to pause and reflect on the recent death of the user behind longtime Virtual Hotel Chelsea manager Enola Vaher. Although I didn’t know the avatar (or user), VHC City, centered around the huge hotel, figures prominently in my mythology through, primarily, The Diagonal, which is now one (Head) of 2 (also: Heart) I’ve found spanning the Heterocera continent. I hope the hotel can carry on beyond this blow, and certainly the rental situation there continues to be healthy and, most likely, self sustaining for a while. Many musical events go on all the time there as well.


Jer Left Horn at Enola Vaher’s “Finely Torn Id” gallery in what I call VHC City.

—–

Moving on to Kowloon, Jer Left Horn decides to first stop by Fish Head’s bar to catch up with all the latest news. The first thing he notices are the bent stools in the back.

“Fight in here, Head?” he questioned while sitting down at the nearest, upright stool, becoming suspicious off the top. He had his knife at ready in the belt under his jacket just in case.

“Oh, you know. Typical Tuesday night. Some of the Queen’s gang letting off steam.”

*You’re* one of the Queen’s gang, Jer Left Horn thinks to himself. Why the separation between you and them? The hand slides down to grip the handle of the knife.

“Like who?” he tried to ask as calmly as possible. “Norton Wise Turtle?” He forced a smile here. Everyone knew the big man-turtle was a first rate troublemaker.

“Yeah, him. And, let’s see — Space Ghost!”

“*Space Ghost*?” Jer Left Horn turns left. Then: nothing for a long while.

——

He wakes up in some kind of pod swimming with shrimp, it appeared. He keeps his eyes frozen, military training snapping into action in a moment of crisis.

“You’re getting old again, Space Ghost. Better head back to the time machine,” requested likewise observing TronAxis. “The shrimp have almost extracted all the information they need.” TronAxis returns his attention to Jer Left Horn’s floating form in the cylinder: the still frozen eyes, the glazed over look. Shouldn’t be long though, now, he thinks. Is there life already in that face?

The cylinder shatters. Jer Right Horn steps out, dry as a whistle, knife ready. The shrimp flip and flop helplessly around the floor amidst the spilled yellow liquid and broken glass, task unfinished. Now old Space Ghost knows he’s no match for the young prince and hobbles away from the scene as fast as possible. TronAxis stands steady, light disk at ready. He knew of Jer Left Horn’s military background — should have taken more steps to ensure his secureness. Hindsight is golden I suppose. But this is the way it was suppose to be, he adjusted to the situation. Me versus him.

A narrow boat materializes before the fleeing Space Ghost in the middle of the pool of water just beyond the pod room: Tessa, sans her driving challenged grandpa this time but still a dreamer. And this is the aforementioned Kow Pond, also known as Loon Lake. Indeed the center of it all. Thanks to Tessa.

“Gentlemen!” she called back into the shadows behind old Space Ghost. “Set down your arms!”

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Bill Hill

“‘Pumpkin Twisters’ anyone?” the great Tin S. Man bellowed, his heart aching from all the lame chit chat. Must get down to business, absences be shamed! His time to shine had more than come. Channeling Kinks’ head man Ray Davies in the round, he must finally put selfishness over selflessness.


Gila 01

On the other side of the tiny woods on the highest hill of the Hills of Bill: the Regaltown “hecklers”, adding more to the tableau.

The target again? Bullfrog, still aligned with Space Ghost. But Space Ghost was getting older, Grammy’s Vortex powers finally losing steam…

They were in their usual spots on the porch outside the trailer perched at the very tippy top, trying to understand the situation.

Space Ghost started the now old argument again. “I thought *you* were Aqua Dude. Like my former roommate…”

“… and his Super Guy duality, yeah. 2n1 in that case. No, for the fiftieth time Aqua Dude and I are separate. Two separate people. A *gay* couple. Get that through your head once and for all.”

“But — I can’t recall ever seeing the two of you *together*. And where’s my cane?”

“You don’t need it yet, Space Ghost,” responded Bullfrog, starting to feel sorry for the old man once more. Getting older by the day, the hour. The cane will come soon enough. “You’re just remembering wrong — getting thoughts jumbled up in your head. We’ve been *over* to your trailer together.”

“But Kevin A…” Space Ghost rattled on.

“I know. It’s confusing. *True* in his case.” Or *was* it, Bullfrog suddenly realized.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to diffused calls of the hecklers across the small grassy parcel from them. No actual words could be made out. The middle “heckler” remained silent as usual, but the stare coupled with the calls from the two surrounding ones made the message loud and clear. Here was Hermania, last girlfriend he’d ever have. Aqua Dude was two guys up from her. But it *wasn’t* Hermania; couldn’t be. Just a statue, an effigy. Made by the other two. No, this was terms for an intervention. Space Ghost had arranged it then let the matter drop. But the hecklers were more persistent. They latched on like ticks. They think Bullfrog and Space Ghost are now lovers. Were they?

“Saying Aqua Dude and me are the same person is as ridiculous as saying we’re two gay lovers, like those idiotic hecklers think.”

Guess not.

(to be continued)

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Granted

Kevin had a nosy neighbor with the initials SCP who liked to peer through his windows at times. So he covered them with clouds.

The addition confounded and confused his easily confounded and confused pet Red Panda Fox Cat Man, rescued on December 13, 1874 (AL) from insidious gypsy witches on a swollen steamer just off the coast of Fiji. Or was it Ireland. More on them soon.

Like many residents of Horns, Kevin A. had a strange, nay compelling fascination with chickens. He often slept at the dinner table so that he could more easily enter their fowl dreams and frolic amongst them at times. He thought the eating of cocks was borderline cockamamie and often mentioned this to his “Kevin brothers” C. and E., munching and crunching away on either side of him. He sometimes arranged the carcasses in ritual poses also learned from witches to more interestingly translate between fair wake and fowl sleep (Fairmount and Fowlerton).

Which reminds me that he must fill up with gas and air today across the street at Wolfy’s, fuel and tires running low on his new 1955 Porche 550 Spyder Convertible purchased from Marcus Fox Smartville day before Tuesday on what he considered a sucker of a deal, curses be damned. Only 50,000 lindens plus 5,000 for shipping. Stamp it: BARGAIN.

He is established here; he really cannot go back to Regaltown. I’m not so sure about Space Ghost, however.

—–

“I wonder what happened to Kevin, Space Ghost?”

“Kevin who?”

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deposed

She glances outside at the warped superhero still producing white or grey matter from his bucket. Like magic; another isolated superpower. But the meeting needs to come to order.

“Here here!” she cries, waving her monstrous red hands before the group. “We’ll have to start without him, ahem. We are — at the place Grey Scale can’t reach thanks to Cpt. Americus and, um, perhaps Chicken Itza — we’ll see. The chickens cluck, the cocks are eaten. Crows flies, uh.”

“We understand,” spoke aiding Norton Wise Turtle (alternately Wise Norton Turtle) from the corner, likewise nursing a blue-green martini. Nursing it to death.

“Fish Head!” she prompted. “Give us a report.”

“Water,” Fish Head bubbled and gurgled opposite Norton Wise Turtle. He also had a blue martini, locally called a Blue William, which he poured into his fish head bowl intermittently. “Fish,” he added just as gurgly. “Scale — working for.”

“Excellent. Good information. How about you Flat Tire?”

But Flat Tire Crow Flies hadn’t rezzed in yet. Just a colorful mist still.

“Never mind, then,” spoke the queen after silence. *Former* queen. “And then: Space Ghost. My old friend. One of my oldest friends.”

“I’ll never leave this land,” Space Ghost reinforced, having already nursed an empty wine glass. To death. “This land is my land and this land is your land.” He pointed around the room. “Each and every one of you.” He settles back in his chair. “If you so choose.”

“Thank you. Anything to add Wise Norton Turtle?” Norton Wise Turtle took the last swig of his drink and states, “That’s all. I believe we’re at The End.”

And he was correct.

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this land is my land

“I will never leave here, Kevin Orchardsity.”

“Kevin A., please,” replies a pleased Kevin A. Space Ghost (Young) knows their full name(!). But Kevin C. and Kevin E.: left behind in gay ol’ Regaltown. However, the sky box… perhaps they could come here too? What’s left for them in Regaltown, really? Grey Scale and Chesteria are here. The conquerors with their grey to white elephants. Marcus Fox Smartville will show up soon too, maybe with Chicken Itza but perhaps not as well. Bullfrog seems to be here — somewhere. Aqua Dude?

“Aqua Dude?” Kevin A. decides to mouth out loud for his roomie.

“Hmm, what’s that?” Space Ghost was daydreaming of chicken. Juicy, delicious grey or white meat.

“I’m, er, just wondering. You said Bullfrog is here.”

“Somewhere,” admits Space Ghost, still 1/2 thinking of where to pick up a bucket.

“Well what about his partner? That inverting guy?” Does Space Ghost guess he is actually Aqua Dude’s arch nemesis Super Guy on the sly? But at this point Space Ghost decides to use his own one, true superpower that we know of and make himself invisible, which actually means he’s teleported to another, local spot found on the inworld map. He has a one sim 100 meter limit.

“I can set you up,” Cpt. Americus declared between bites.

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Space Bridge

“Well, might as well man up and say we don’t have a finish for the Regaltown section yet, Baker Bloch,” Space Ghost speaks to his son playing the role of Bullfrog here. “Just twiddling our thumbs, waiting for lines.”

“It’s the Horns of Hatton, dad,” his son tries to defend. “So laggy over there; it’s holding us down, impeding our progress forward.”

“If everyone blamed everything on *horns*,” Space Ghost replies firmly (presently voiced by the great Gary Owens!).

“Well — what’s your idea, then? How to go forward I mean?”

“White,” and here Space Ghost reveals the whites of his teeth. “Elephant,” he then completes crisply, making the teeth actually glint with an accompanying, tingy sound effect.

—–

Just like that they’re somewhere else. Still on the same porch, but — at Horns instead of Regaltown.

“See how easy that was, son? You still have a lot to learn from your old man.”

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unfriendly neighbors

He was down at the frog pond feeding the ducks when he spotted her through the bamboo. “What the??…”

And he moved forward through the water to investigate, striding the bottom to the far edge. Space Ghost’s edge.

“That’s *it*. I’ve had it with these shenanigans by interlopers like this Space Ghost, this new guy Kevin A. This is *not* funny.”

BANG BANG BANG.

“Space Ghost, I know you’re in there.” No answer. “Space Ghost!” he belched out in his gribbety voice. “Open the door. We need to talk.”

“Bullfrog?” the superhero at the peak of his powers replied innocently. Bait taken.

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in the cave

“I was just there watching the red and green grasses wave back and forth with the fairy, thinking: love is the answer, but what is this question we all must ask.”

“Kind of going beyond John Lennon in that way.” Kevin C. (or was it E.?) expressed puzzlement. “Like in the ‘Mind Games’ song, the flip side of the better known ‘Meat City’, admittedly, but still fairly well known. Here, let me hum a few bars.” He proceeds to do so, then mouths the appropriate lyrics. “‘Love – is – the answer. And you know that – for sure.’ See, he never sings about the question.”

“So — are you going to let me stay? Knowing what you know?”

“That you’re not gay, yes. Alright. But we’ll have to put you in the Northeast Quadrant, behind the art gallery. The old Coutts residence. Old codger is more like it. Straight as a porcupine quill he was. I should know.”

But when Kevin A. (A. — that was it) arrived at his new home in the Northeast Quadrant of Regaltown, someone was already there. Not old but young. Space Ghost, with all his powers returned. Ability to turn invisible. Er, ability to do this and that and the other stuff. Not pointing out imaginary green squirrels with his cane any longer. Kevin A. would have a male roommate after all. And wife Grammy was no longer around, since this was the past. Her vortex powers made sure of that.

Young Space Ghost takes one look at Kevin A., then says, “No gays in this quadrant. Who sent you? Arnold? Tell Arnold he can go to hell. Or back to Sweetgrass, where he came from. Americans.” Young Space Ghost spat on the ground with this.

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more new

“Look at that green squirrel over there, honey.”

“No time for trivialities tonight, love. I’m worried.”

“When aren’t you?” returned her husband of 3 years. The original Space Ghost (!).

“We’ve lost our son Oliver. We’ve lost our daughter Eva.”

“Ona,” Old Space Ghost corrected. “Our daughter’s name is Ona.”

“Whatever.” Grammy sighs. “They’re gone. Along with the original homestead. A place called, called…” The name escaped her.

“Something about owls,” spoke Old Space Ghost, also pondering the appellation. “Something about the way they hoot.” He kept racking his brain. “Hootyville!” he exclaimed in a Eureka type moment, then shook it off. “Nah, that’s not it. Darn brain.” He knocks against it lightly with the head of his cane. “If only I were younger.” With this, he looked over at his wife Grammy expectantly.

She glanced at his stare, then back. “No. We’ll not go down that path again. Stick to the road. That’s the plan. She looked ahead at the golden dirt road curving around the fenced-in cornfield they sat in front of. “This is all that’s left of the old place. The only spot we have to hang our memories on. If we move — I’m afraid we’ll lose them forever.”

A trap, thought Old Space Ghost, looking at the golden track as well. A jail of sorts, even. Locked into this old body. Locked into this old, basically circular dirt road. Should have been paved a long time ago, pheh. That would have set time straight. Space too. Along with… something else.

Baker Bloch approached from the east. “Father;” he nodded toward Space Ghost. “Step-mother;” he nodded toward the woman known most commonly as Grammy. “It’s time if you’re still up for it.” He stared steadily at Grammy.

“Don’t do it woman,” sputtered Space Ghost, changing his mind. “You don’t know what the whale can do for you. Drive you *nuts* with that whirling and twirling and — *jiggering*.”

“Can’t I — just come in by default?” she pleaded. “Because I’m, you know, married to your father?”

Not the way it works, step-mother. You have to ride the wild whale (like everyone else). All Hail the Wild White Whale,” he recited automatically, but they didn’t return the exaltation. But he then pushed them and they grudgingly acquiesced.

—–

The vortex started about 3 seconds in, her secret superpower revealed.

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Happy visions

“I keep looking over at that tower, Buurb, and see Henry Winkler keep climbing up and down those ladders. *Henry Winkler*. Does he live in Heartsdale? I guess he has to, given that I keep seeing him over there. From ‘Happy Guys.’ You remember, don’t you? Fonzie Bear I think he was called. I wonder how he got *here*?”

“Sometimes he even looks over here and waves at me or something.”

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