Tag Archives: Spongeberg Resident^*+++++@%

00480409

Philip hadn’t been playing pinball long when he remembered to tell Frank the big news. “Lexi said, get this, the bar’s opening back up next to her house this morning,” he said after finishing the first game, normally a low point of the day since he gets to the higher scores later. “The Hole in the Wall is back in business, baby,” he summarized, and then is about to insert the next quarter into the machine when piano and Spongeberg inventions weary Frank stops him. “Halt!” I believe he said, then: “Go!” And so they went.

—–

“Be with you in just a moment, gents,” she said after glancing at them over her shoulder. “We’re not actually open back up until 2, but that’s fine. Gotta take a break and clean sometime. Working alone right now, until I can get my mechanical man over there fixed up so he can pitch in. That’s a joke, btw.” But then Daisy Flathead thought: Is it?

“We’re fine, ma’am,” said Frank. “Just glad to see the bar up and running again. Place was pretty much wrecked when Lexi had to quickly raise it 100 feet in the air because of the alcoholic sea monster and all. I know she was trying to be careful but… that mouth, so big, so close! But…, erm…”

Daisy guessed what Frank was going to ask; she’s good about that with people. “How can I serve booze when that monster is still out there roaming the Nawt Vaya waters, biding his or her time? I can’t. Never mind all those taps. I only got one. Corona Non… until I can brew my own Non. Mind you, Corona Non’s pretty good. But I’m conjuring up something special. *Special* special. Our Second Lyfe residents won’t know what hit them because it won’t. They’ll — collectively — wait and wait for the kicker, thinking how tasty the drink is. Then they’ll go home perfectly sober but also, strangely, perfectly satisfied. The wives of the normally drunk-ish, boor-ish husbands will thank me and shower me with money so that I can advertise the brew even more, ha. The husbands of the wives might complain a bit about the lack of buzz but will keep thinking of the taste and come back anyway. Taste, my friends. It’s all about the hops. And I have a secret weapon. Flathead.” She points to her own flat hair topped noggin with this. “All in here. And… there. I’m done dusting. So, Non beers all around? That’ll be 5 dollars each.” (TBC)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0409, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, NVFS

00480304

“Soo. I gotta ask this, Frank. Is Mouse your *boyfriend* now or something?”

“Noooo.” But he was thinking: Might as well be. We’re stuck together up here it seems. Until Mouse learns his lesson; could take a while, he knew. A looong while. “How’s your *girlfriend* doing, Philip?” Frank thinks to ask in turn, knowing Nada and he were still going through some difficulties.

“Oh, she’s okay.” Philip was concentrating on his pinball prowess, Frank doing the same with his piano. Spongeberg’s Invention #4… so difficult to get the fingering down! In other words, neither were paying much attention to what they were saying to each other. Typical. Not really feeling the other’s pain.

More dinging and clanging from Philip, more fingering from Frank. Philip was trying to beat Mouse’s high score for the month. Frank was also trying to beat a score in a way. Spongeberg’s Invention set down on paper. He feels the notes swirling before him like an angry mob, ready to leap out of the page and take over his mind, his castle, everything. 1000 points to go for Philip. 1000 notes to go for Frank. Or so.

“Listen, Frank. I wonder if you could ask the *Pooping Pigeon* up there to turn down the video feed. It’s as loud as my pinball machine and I’m standing right before it!”

“I’ll try.” Middle C, he thinks. It all revolves around Middle C.

After a couple of moments, Philip reiterates his request. But just then Mouse returns to “Earth” to test out a new resonant center he’d found in one of his many Youtube poop videos he’d saved to his various playlists. New Hampshire and Vermont, he ponders while heading down. I think I know where this is leading to!

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0304, Illinois, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, New Hampshire, NVFS, Vermont

00470605 (Central Park/ Stuck like Fly)

Dark Peak. The Power.

Blue Boy knows.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0605, Back Rooms, Gaston^^, Hana Lei^^

00470513

As soon as I flew over the place I knew I wanted to return. Several days later I was able to do just that. Last Thursday after Wednesday after Tuesday while eating a cheeseburger at Devil’s Den Food Shack down in base camp, owner and head cook and everything else Bret, who I had befriended in my week’s stay there, said that a blue rental car had kind of falling into his lap — he told me not to ask about details so I didn’t, ha. He knew about my fly over of Mammoth City, knew my burning desire to go back to that icy place way up on the ridge above the canyon. “Have it for the day,” he said, and threw me the keys while briefly turning away from the grill. “Just get it back before dark. And stick to the main roads. No side roads, especially snowy ones. Capisce?”

“Capisce.” What else could I say.

I reached the town about 2 that afternoon. A light snow was falling, but nothing sticking on the roads. But then I made the mistake of turning down a side road which I thought was still the main one. I shortly spotted a car parked alongside it that appeared to be the same as my own. Curious, I pulled in behind it and got out, deciding that this was as good a place as any to begin exploring the place on foot. I became grounded at that point. Just like my alter ego.

Yep, same exact make and model as I checked closer, same exact color, heck I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t have the same exact license plate #, although I stupidly forgot to check; might have even saved my life later on. Did the person who gave Bret the car also give this duplicate one to someone else? I thought at the time.

I started walking around the town but the subject kept niggling at my brain. Could it be possibly… me — or a variant version of me — a doppelganger I think they call them? Silly thoughts, I thought at the time. But then down at the lake toward the, ahem, end of my walk I ran into tracks that weren’t my own, and that I felt I *had* to follow. Which led me to my end. He left me in the water and walked away, saying thank you for my friendship, whatever that means.

Soon the car followed my body into the water. Groundy I later learned was his name. Posthumously obviously; my replacement. It took Bret a while to catch on, but eventually he did. There was a sadness about him after that which wasn’t present before. But he never said anything.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0513, Utah

00470507

*SPLAAAT* “Ahhhhh!”

—–

“Dear! Dear! What’s wrong dear!”

“Oh, ah. Nothing, dear. A dream.” I look around the bedroom, reorient myself. “Just one of those dreams again.”

“Superhero?” she guessed correctly, hand still on my shoulder.

“Yeah.”

—–

In another dream, his face appeared before me like a menacing red leaf… something.

“Island,” it hissed. “We have to go back to… the island.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0507, Goikyland, New York

00470506 (The Fly 02)

At a lake in the center of the park, Joanna S. receives the illumination that someone is approaching…

… from a different dimension altogether.

Later: Creeping along in Times Square traffic, ha.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0506, MFS, New York

00470505

It was so dark he couldn’t see his hands but it didn’t matter. Baker Bloch knew he couldn’t play a lick, much less Beethoven. Tickling the ivories was more (female half) Baker Blinker’s thing. And his vampire alter ego Pitch Darkly’s come to think of it. He could change over, actually. But he decides to instead recede into shadow again, letting Newt be his new self once more. Question, then: could *Newt* play the piano? Let’s give him a minute and then turn on the lights to see.

—–

*click*

Kind of! Certainly not Liszt but is that an ineptly played Spongeberg Invention, perhaps No. 3? It turns out to be No. 4 but, point made I suppose. He can play *some*. He has hands of sorts, a bit mangled but they’re what they are at this stage of his finely aged life. Good enough for what he needs. Besides, he has other talents to practice…. ineptly, ha. Writing I’m talking about here. We better get back to it…..

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0505, Hana Lei^^, Jeogeot, Newtown

00470504

I stayed at the Roadway Inn in Big Water, Utah for the night. I knew this was the place to be when spotting these male and female cowboy silhouettes framing a red rock outside Room 605, 200 meters (or yards) effectively reduced to zero. Zeroing in, I took it.

The next day I set out for Bryce Canyon not far north of here. I intended to become one of those flying squirrels and survey the whole place by air. I succeeded, though not in the main task.

Eventually I found the actual Red Rock but it took a while. Bret helped. Said it’d been at least several years since he was up there with his ailments and all but we eventually stumbled upon the approx. 20 foot long stone at the top of a canyon cascade. Red Rock Rest, he joked about the name and suddenly became sad. I in contrast was overjoyed as hell.

Strangest thing. We saw a rabbit when walking around it for the first time which then hopped away, leaving what appeared to be its own shadow for a second. Then the “shadow” itself became animated and scurried away, being revealed as what seemed to be a large rat by its shape and motion. We saw no other wildlife while there besides birds. And these two seen were superimposed as one when first encountered. We took it as a sign. Only later did we find out the meaning.

Bret (and Sooki) soon gave me the nickname The Fly because of my prowess in the sky and it stuck like paper. Later when the newspaper articles stopped being published it changed to Airey for reasons unknown to me. In honor of someone I gathered but no one ever gave any details. A “nobody” is all they said about the person. Unlike me.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0504, Google Street View, New Mexico, Utah

00470316 (course reversed)

Grassy Noll stares at the giant statue and wonders: Is it about the Faune? Really? After all, Spongeberg is a *destroyer* not a creator. His very nature, his very essence in essence. The old Christ the Redeemer statue he worshipped up on the beige (read: yellow) ridge should be down not up. Conversely the Faune here is down on Green not up. Everything is Bass Ackwards. His 12 x 12 Atom *should* destroy, hmm. Or be destroyed.

“Why do you keep staring at that thing, Grass?” asks his friend from the couch of his Route 14 apartment, or just off of.

“Oh. Just thinking what might have been.”

Silicon Soul Church… Siliconicus. Yellow not green.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0316, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

00470304 (lost ally)

Spongeberg tried to ignore the long haired, slightly smelly man sitting in the phone booth next to him while retrieving his canned drink from the machine. But no good.

“Umm, spare some change for a Green-Grey war veteran?” he prompted as Spongeberg was about to move away after a refreshing sip.

He glanced over, detected no immediate disability. “Depends on what’s wrong with you,” he decided to say unfeelingly. Can’t even bother to pick up his cup for begging, pheh, he thinks. Lazy bum as well. Then Roth moves more into the light to expose his hands that weren’t there, also exposing the reason the cup had to remain on the ground in front of him.

“Oh,” said Spongeberg to this, still considering whether to give him even a hard earned dime of his money. He drops a nickel into the cup, prepares to move on. He walks slowly so as not to rattle all the change that still remained in his pockets. Didn’t work. Roth watches him with his own disdain as he fades into the distance…

Up the road connecting Highway 13 and Highway 14 over the mountainous beige spine of Lower Austra separating them he goes. Aiming to catch a Second Lyfe to Real Life plane back home to Whitehead Crossing before dying again on the road like a dog in this cursed world, his own severe handicap here.

The two men could have become chums then and there, sharing Spongeberg’s drink while discussing disabilities personal and societal. But Spongeberg chose to remain free of all that, not tied down to a new friendship, despite the benefits he might reap.

This is actually an alternate story to the one presented here in photo-novel 13. But also a warning. Extreme freedom sometimes has a price, and something like a nickel won’t cover it.

https://bakerbloch.com/2019/04/11/88829/

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0304, Lower Austra^, Nautilus