Tag Archives: Spocari

Presidents’ Ball 04

“Money, get back / I’m all right, Jack / Keep your hands off my stack / New car / Caviar / Four-star daydream / Think I’ll buy me a football team.”

The gala crowd erupts, to which Sprite adds on top: “Tear down this wall, Mr. Orange!”. The crowd continues to clap. A “Tear Down The Wall” chant begins slowly, then builds, until Alo Bama takes the mic and motions everyone to calm down.

“*Freedom*. (pause) It’s what everyone wants, everyone cherishes.” Alo Bama indicates Sprite sitting back in the crowd. “Like our tree friend Mr. Sprite, waiting to be unencumbered by the shackles of The Wall, ready to join Wallytown as a *full* *fledged* *citizen*.”

The crowd claps enthusiastically again. “With inalienable rights,” he says over them, calming them down once more. “And established levels of treatment honoring decency, character (pause), respect.” “You go Alo!” someone shouts in the rear, prompting him to reply, “I’m going, I’m going. ” Scattered laughter is heard. “I’m telling it like it is.”

—–

“I thought you were going to dramatically change into Green Squirrel or Roger Pine Ridge or something to show who you really are,” spoke Natali seated beside Sprite now, his date for the night.

“Ahh, it just didn’t seem to fit the bill. Didn’t feel right. It was *my* poem and that’s what counts.”

“I suppose… oh he’s starting to talk about the Bottle Mound indians now.”

—–

“On the one hand,” Alo Bama extends his left arm and opens his hand. “Orange. On the other…” Alo Bama extends his other arm with the mic. “Purple… Violet, some say, although they prefer the former and we should respect (pause) their rights. And they’ve fought with each other, fought, fought, fought, down through the years, the centuries (pause). And what’s come of it, hmm?” A “free the trees” protest comes from the same person as before in the back. Alo Bama ignores it this time.

“Death is what came of it. And *disappearance* (pause) in time.”

—–

“You know he really is quite the orator,” opined Dr. I.C. Yourinsides to Captain Spocari. But when he didn’t respond she found that he’d fallen asleep.

“*Really* Captain. But I guess you’re all knackered out from this afternoon, hehe. Twice a day keeps the doctor okay.”

—–

“And now. (pause) The Mound. (pause) Comes here. Leemon or Leeman standing on the beach just beyond 1/2 refuses to even admit it is there. He can’t fully *see* (pause) this *new* New Island. The Greys *descend*…

… and fall backwards, face down (pause) in the sand.”

—–

“When’s he going to get to Jimmy?” whispers Billy Bloodsworth on a back couch to Lavender. “I can tell he’s nervous up there, ready to come out of his shell like Alo Bama and Bill C. did before him.”

“Be patient,” replies his sister-in-law. “He has to get to the point in his own, circular way. That’s what makes him such a great speaker.”

“Jimmy was better.”

“Nice of you to say.”

“He *was.*”

(to be continued)

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Californi

So Spocari’s plan worked, Dr. I.C. Yourinsides thought. I can breathe freely down here! No tiredness after 3 hours. But I better get back for another regeneration session with Lt. Gunnhead. No use risking everything at this point.


California and Nevada.

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transference

“Yes, thank you Penn Mann. But we kind of already *knew* where the mound was on this sim map.” Waste of thin space he sometimes is, she thought to herself, but only huffed outwardly.

Embarrassed, Penn Mann moved away from the map and propped himself back up against the wall beside Dr. I.C. Yourinsides. After considering the next step, he thought into their heads again. “Give me your idea of how Tronesisia — Sissy — and this Rocky being I hadn’t met until yesterday’s rehearsals — fine fellow, though — tell me how they knew about Billy’s secret hideout. Any clues?”

“We don’t *need* clues, Penn Mann. Mr. Director.” Dr. I.C. blew out air again. “It *happened*. Tronesisia and Rocky noticed that there were 3 extra prims on the property the other day. They’re very meticulous about counting, since they leave full building permissions on that property for the various entertainers passing through. They used remote viewing to pretty quickly find the cube, the most solid and rounded of the 3, just under the floor of the nightclub. This led (them) to the other two objects linked to the cube — the copy of ‘I, Robot’ by another Carter person apparently [sic], and then the Jimmy Carter cutout that represents Billy’s *real* brother, or what he takes to be his real brother anyway. It’s all brainwashery, though: the alien disguise, everything. He’s really human through and through in this production. But he’s not really a he.”


“So it *is* you.”

Penn Mann considered this as well. “What about the public urination, then, the pissing with the [delete name]? And Mr. Yellow. Or Yellows, 2 of ’em. He drank the special brew, but is then discovered pissing it back out at that public landing spot for Wallytown, all out in the open and all. But it takes two Mr. Yellows, combined, to accomplish this. What does that mean?”

Dr. I.C. threw up her hands, then figuratively punted. “You take it Spocari Nemoy.”

“Captain,” admonished Nemoy. “Use the title when speaking to me in this war room. I outrank you.”

Dr. I.C. blew him a raspberry with this. “Go ahead then, *Captain*. Give our Director Mann a dose of some more truth. He wants fiction, we give him reality back.” She turned to Penn Mann again. “All this *happened* to us — get that through your thin, ink filled head.” She looked him over. “Which side is your head anyways?”

“Biker Chick,” went Penn Mann on a tangent again in their heads. He had this in common with his Urbane Blue director doppleganger: Eraserhead Man. Without eyes, without mouth, he turned his attention to the black and pink clad woman sitting beside Nemoy, who was markedly leaning in the opposite direction from her, obviously uncomfortable with her presence here. “We seem to need a fresh perspective on this,” Penn Mann thought. “Give us what you think.”

Dr. I.C. Yourinsides spoke up again. “Biker Chick doesn’t know anything; she has just arrived.”

“Nevertheless,” insisted Penn Mann inside their heads. “I am *still* the director of the production, despite what you may think, Good Doctor.”

“Oh Lord,” she exasperated. “Go ahead, then, Biker-Chick-still-not-even-with-a-name-yet. Tell us what you got.”

“Heidi,” she piped up in a thin voice after a pause. “My name is Heidi.” But Nemoy and Yourinsides both realized it was actually Penn Mann speaking *through* this person. She looks down at her hands, wiggles them around. She reaches up and touches her face, her eyes, her mouth.

And then she touches something else. “How do you like *these* apples?”

Spocari Nemoy started to feel red-blooded again. This is what he didn’t like about biker chicks, among many other things. But this above all else. What would Marlon Brando do? he thinks for not the first nor last time.

He makes a mental note to schedule another regeneration session with Lt. Gunnhead asap.

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blue bloods

“This is the human who is looking for me, Spocari. Yet he has changed now. Drastically. We have *both* changed.”

“And you say this is your *brother*? How does *that* work?”

“He *was* my brother. As I said, we have both changed — drastically. This place, this town, has changed us both. Made us into monsters. In lemony times we use to rule together at the top of the mound. That’s where I became addicted to my special brew, the stuff that saves me down here. As one of the top dogs, or at least sidekick to the head honcho, I was afforded my own drink. My brother backed me up, didn’t leave my side even though I embarrassed him again and again. I even *pissed* my special brew in public, Spocari. Mr. Yellow they called me after that incident. At least down here.”

Dr. Spocari Nemoy spoke into his head microphone which also acted as a recorder currently. “Are you getting all this up there, Picard?” A confession he was receiving, in essence.

“Sure. But who’s the brother?” spoke Chief Communication Officer Picard in his ear. “Get the brother’s name. We think it’s Jimmy but just want to check.”

“He’ll come after me,” continued Billy. “He’s changed,” he reinforced. “Nothing like he was. This place, this town changes you.” He then looks Spocari over real good, wondering what *he* was before.

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Billy

“No dancing today?” queried the disappointed Spocari.

“Later on in the afternoon, yeah,” gruffed Natali, awkward in motion when out of character but silky smooth as Molly Lustrous, Queen of Dance. Queen of Lemony Past, she also became as that character. But Natali didn’t know so much. Natali only knew there were secret passages underneath Bar Lemon that needed to be explored today; needed to be shown to this deep, level voiced alien-man who was more attractive to Molly than herself. Molly felt he was in danger of tilting toward the wrong side (Orange?), thus gave control over to Natali this morning. “Just in here,” she beckoned at the web covered entrance of the sewer tunnel. “Follow me.”

—–

“Errm, okay. Another dead Grey. So what?”

“No.”

“No? Looks Grey to me.”

“*No*… look.”

The large headed alien on the bed began to stir, sat up. He looked around nervously, then relaxed.

“Ahh, Natali. So I’m still not discovered, phew.” He wipes his substantial forehead of some developed perspiration. “Bring any of my special beer brew down here from the bar by chance? Because I’m *out* of it.”

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any red-blooded man could succumb

“So this is supposed to be some kind of re-creation of the Nehi Indians’ Bottle Town,” grumbled Captain Spocari Nemoy, standing on the edge of the sim and staring across a shallow bay — perhaps another, larger borrow pit even — toward Wallytown’s main beach. “I doubt it, but I have to examine all angles before the Great Descent. Orange versus Purple.”

He checks his watch on his laser weaponed arm. “10:00am: better get over to Bar Lemon and talk to Natali or, ahem, Molly Lustrous again about all this,” he continued talking to himself. “I of course have to filter what she says through my radical logic, but the babe’s a total fount of information, lemony past and all. Plus I kind of like watching her dance; must appeal to my human side.” But he better watch that, else the green blood immunity might be negated.


Active members of Nehi’s Orange Tribe ascending the mound in lemony past.

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New Post

Bendy enjoyed his new job as receptionist for the spaceship that Dr. I.C. Yourinsides and Capt. Spocari Nemoy and others worked in. The latter passed through every morning on his way down to Wallytown and the surface, and also passed by around 6:00, 6:30 in the evening when he returned. Bendy had only seen Dr. I.C. once so far — no real need for her to descend to this lowest deck (with the highest number, though: 15) since she is still unable to go groundside because of the continuing effects of the New Island radiation, even though they are no longer that near New Island. Fisher or Fishers Island is their home now. Their New Home. As stated previously, Spocari’s saving grace in this respect is his not-red-but-green blood.

From his switchboard console, Bendy had access to *some* of the ship’s information and history. It was that Bottle Mound in Alabama which made all this possible — and necessary. The two dead Greys at *Wallytown’s* mound (of similar height — a doppleganger mound, in effect) are not really dead, nor Greys. Hector and Lewis, and also likewise deceased Gerry slumping against an interior wall, didn’t really exist. Something else was going on. That’s why they haven’t been buried. They are merely “signs”.

Former receptionist Willard Picard had just moved to Chicago in the Real World to work at a newspaper, father Justin’s dream of the young man eventually succeeding him as the ship’s Chief Communication Officer be damned. Thus the reason the post was vacated when Bendy teleported up and then met a surprised Cpt. Nemoy about a week back. “It is not logical that you sit there in Willard’s place,” you might recall him saying at the time while training several guns on his head.

The robot reports on Wallytown were blocked to Bendy. No possibility of getting the scoop on Tronesisia, then — for now. Just the info about the Alabama Bottle Mound and attached Nehi Indians, as well as histories of the ship’s crew such as Nemoy, Yourinsides, and Picard (both of ’em). The ship was called Cuthand (CU-than), after both a witch and a wizard who either were married or siblings; Bendy couldn’t conclusively conclude from the information at hand.

(to be continued)

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