Tag Archives: Sven Felton

granted 04

Rock Ramby sure knows about trees and plants, thought Allen Y., listening in for the second hour now as the muscular dude babbled on. “The redwoods are a hybrid clone,” he was currently saying. “I got dwarves as well. I created all and everything on this sim,” he reinforced again. “Horses too.”

“Tricksy?” Allen ventured while scratching his chin, testing the water.

“That a horse name?” he came back. “Doesn’t sound like one.”

“Yeah, that’s the one I mentioned meeting on the way over here. All the way back at the first of our, er, conversation.” A long, long way back, he thought to himself. And he hasn’t mentioned this mysterious Hitchcock in a long time either.

“Mirabel,” corrected Rock. “A transer, yeah. Tricksy could have been it.”

“That’s what she said,” Allen held firm. Blasted know-it-all. In truth, Allen Y. had become weary of the chatter about 20 minutes in. He’d heard enough blowhards back on his home planet of Elven.

Just then, what appeared to be jingle bells sounded outside the cabin, breaking the banter. “Cool,” Rock Ramby then beamed. “Sven’s back. Runs a packing industry over in Meat City Misty Mountain, you know. Let’s take a look.” Rock springs up from the chair on his powerful legs and moves toward the front door. He draws his knife just in case. Less spry Allen Y. stands and follows; peers through the opening behind him.

“More veins and arteries for your boy, Rock,” called Sven merrily, landing just behind the circular train track. He threw a bowed package in his direction, which Rock deftly caught, knife still in hand. “Schweet,” he yelped. “Thanks Santa!”

“Sven, please. Merry, um, Something!” he shouted as his jingling reindeer lifted him and his heavily packed sleigh back into the sky. “Merry Something to All!”

Shuffling behind Allen Y. as he watched the sleigh recede. He turned. “I heard my name,” issued a Zeus-like voice.

Where the hell have *you* been hiding,” the yellow alien thought.

(to be continued)

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Filed under *Second Life, MISTY MO^^

town City >

I’ve got to text Baker to come find me and get me. But what year is it? 2020? 1920? If the latter, then Septimius might be of aid. If the former, then Baker alone.

She looks down at her spacesuit like garb; realizes it has to be the former.

Unless we had children, she ponders further. Grandchildren. She searches for Wallytown + Septimius. Name is probably archaic but it’s worth a try.

She studies the search results. No Septimius. On a hunch, she tries Seppy. No luck again. Then Sep. Sep Felton. Ah ha. 8 hits down. Sep Felton. 128 Wall Lane. Number: 882-226-4371. She dials through her notebook.

“Hello?” Female voice — Wheeler was thinking male.

“Hi. Is this Sep? Sep Felton?”

“Yes?”

Wheeler decides what to say. “I’ve been looking up possible relatives in the area. My name is Felton as well. By marriage.”

“Well, that’s interesting. I only know of 1 other Felton, and he’s over in Meat City. Runs a small packing industry. No relation, though.” The voice was pleasant, inviting.

“I was wondering… could we meet sometime today? Or tomorrow perhaps? I’m only in town the two days. Today would be preferable.” Wheeler was thinking: it better be today. I’m ready to get the heck out of Dodge!

“I get off work at 5. How about 6? Bar Lemon is a popular place to meet. Dancers there as well. We can chat before the entertainment. Molly, one of the dancers, is a good friend of mine. She can get us a good deal on drinks.”

How strange, thought Wheeler. Of all the places. Does she know as well?? “Swell,” she answered. “See you in a couple of hours.”

“Thanks. It will be nice to compare family trees. See if we’re actually related. Perhaps you’re instead related to Sven over in Meat City. Or perhaps — I’ve often wondered this too — there’s a missing link between the 2 Feltons. We would be so isolated otherwise. Perhaps we can figure it out together. That would be nifty.”

A little chatty, thought Wheeler. But otherwise: quite nice. Pleasant — that’s important. No nasal in her voice. “Super. I’d like to see the dancers.” It was a hobby of Wheeler’s as well. So many dances in the world. So many more to learn.

“That’s wonderful. I’m a dancer too, but not professionally like Molly. Just amateur stuff.”

Queer again, thought Wheeler. Just like me once more. But enough talk for now. “Goodbye. I’m looking forward to it.” She touches the phone symbol on the notebook, making it turn from green to red. Disconnected. But later, perhaps connected in a much more meaningful and deeper way. Love.

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Filed under *Second Life, Wallytown/Fishers Island^