Tag Archives: Thomas Boyy^^++++^*++++

September 4, 2023 · 10:22 pm

00390705

“Do you see Mid-Hazel? Is she dancing?”

“No. Can’t see her.”

“How about the pumpkineaters?”

“Still under the orange tree. Like normal. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Hazel is probably just inside stretching again. You know she has to do it every hour or she simply freezes up, probably dies as a result.”

“Every half-hour, I’ve heard. But no time for disagreements. I see movement!”

“Blue clad Sarah in front of the littler one.”

“This could be—”

“Aww MANNN. I didn’t need to see that. Here, Boyy, you take the binoculars and keep watch while I go throw up.”

“But you have no…” Boyy was going to tell Gurl she has no internal working parts to throw up with but too late. Dry heaves over there, purely an emotional reaction to what happened below. He dares to look. He increases the magnification to the max.

Blood on the ground but no sign of Sarah, with the littler one gone too. Maybe he drug her up in the yard to finish his consumption yeck, Boyy rationalized. And, oh boy, now Al is positioned in front of the bigger pumpkineater. Mid-Hazel is clearly seen behind this time. Gurl comes back and observes naked eyed. “Is Mid-Hazel… *naked*?”

“ZOWIE!!! My turn, Gurl,” and he hands the binoculars to her and rushes to the same place in the bushes.

Al is dead, Sarah is dead. Tom is not going to be happy about the news. Two of his best agents!

(to be continued)

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August 4, 2023 · 7:52 am

extreme resonance

“Well I have to admit I’m *jealous* Mr. Z. You’ve done such a fabulous job here…”

“Aw *shucks*. T’wernt nothing.” His true face on the many masked backpack he always carries around identifies itself by turning slightly red here.

“And I’ve, well, I’ve barely touched the Temple of TILE. So jealous…”

Mr. Z reached over, patted his hand. “We’ll work on it… *together*.”

“Sweet of you.”

“But first I have to make a journey. Across the island, south side instead of north. I have to go see where my cousin is, the other Mr. Z, the one they specifically named and called Zimmy. Last I heard: with a Beech.

Al’s cell phone rang. “I have to take this,” he said to the historian living on the second floor of Crooked in the village of Constantynople who had just recreated, to the best of his ability, the famous TILE channeling room where a 3rd cousin to himself and Zimmy, Olive Oylstick (who we’ve already met in this here photo-novel at the end of section 01), gave the virtual and real worlds her uber-important manifesto. All the answers to the universe, some say are in there. Trouble was, no one really knew how to properly decode the almost indecipherable document yet. Mr. Z was hoping that this re-creation was a step in that direction, along with coordination with Al and his high connections, TOM we’re talking about here. Who is on the other side of the line with Al now. Let’s listen in as best we can.

“Yeah it’s a nice day here in Constantynople, thanks for asking. What’s on your mind, TOM?”

Reply. I thought I heard the word Jasper, which was confirmed just ahead.

“Oh. Sorry to hear about that, TOM. So, hmm, I guess you’ll be staying in the Waste now. Is that where I find you?”

Longer reply. Perhaps a minute or even two.

“For now, huh?” Al responds. “Seeing what develops in Jasper — not giving up on it. Okay, as long as I know where you are.” Then, glancing over his shoulder at the setup within, Al gives him some news that he thinks will cheer his superior boss up.

(to be continued)

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July 26, 2023 · 3:26 pm

the coming of the robots

1st: Robert Matthew. Or Matthew Robert, whichever. Like Shelley and her horse before him, came down from Beatrice, via a rowboat in his case but, later, some say a duck to match his yellow. Or a yellow horse, whatever. Anyway, here he is, arriving from the north. Invited by Constantynople Prime Minister Baker Bloch himself to solve some obvious town issues. Too much human stuff going on; it’s becoming a weakness, maybe even part of a curse. Like Robert’s old Soap swampland he fortunately sold to a gullible man from Mark Twain, Florida.

“Town hall, please.”

“Right, then left through the tree, hehe, huhu, hooo.”

He watched him walk away, then: “Did — did I do well, Tom?”

Reply in head.

“A white aggie, eh? Best one yet!”

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July 23, 2023 · 7:35 am

sunrise

Something weird was found the next morning. A wave that wouldn’t crash, and on the other side of the beach from the surfing ones. What gives? Al thinks.

Suddenly 2 killers appear from down the road. “Bang!” he shouts while trying to shoot them dead, quickly followed by “Dang! Forgot to bring the real one.” He’ll have to fight them by hand. Then the immense rolling noise stops and he instead stares straight ahead, wave gone. Mirage?

The killers wink out too. Killed the wave instead? Perhaps he needs more rest. Yes, that’s it. Head back to bed, Al. Back to the beach. You’re dreaming. Head back into yourself and then you can wake up properly. Tom in his head now, he realized. He’d had a rough night of sleeping.

He dreamed that child Shelley owned a rocking horse she loved more than anything else in the world besides her cats and maybe *maybe* her Mom. Made by the same people, by the way, that created that TILE towel rack positioned beside the grown up version of her in that earlier post here. TILE rack, then, like Al had a ball. The mystery continues…

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July 23, 2023 · 12:26 am

sunset

“Okay I’m here on the beach beside the TILE ball, Tom. I’ve got you on speaker so I can keep reading this interesting magazine in front of me. Perhaps clues in there, you understand.” Al didn’t really believe there were any clues in there. He just liked the articles advertised on the cover. All about Home — he wished he had a true home and not just continue to be a traveler of both time and space. He desired to settle down, like the old days, fast becoming the *good* old days.

After the reply: “About 8:01 PM it looks by the sun. Roughly speaking.”

Reply.

“No. No one on the beach except me. No surfers spotted, no one.”

Reply.

“It’s a pretty beach. Pretty long that is (*snicker*).”

Reply.

“No time for jokes, I understand. Jokes later.”

Reply.

“I’ll get settled in. I guess I’ll just bed down here for the night. Then start up the road tomorrow after I check out the beach more in the morning. Maybe I’ll get to interact with someone then.” Al didn’t doubt that his boss Thomasina was onto something sending him here. TILE was strong — he could feel it, as he does. ‘No orange, no purple, let’s make this shit happen,’ he recalls about the sacred manuscript. And here, supposedly, is the amender of such, the bringer of cow and a lot of other things. Won’t have any shorts left, Thomasina said. Al was looking for a little yellow naked fellow. But he was wrong on that.

(to be continued)

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July 11, 2023 · 5:12 pm

00390204

“Good you came back from the 1/2 world by getting together with Sarah,” Thomasina reviewed. We were back in her old office, the hovel in the Waste, new one in Jasper Falls being redecorated perhaps. “How is Sarah?”

“She’s dead,” Al put it bluntly.

“Good, good,” said Thomasina to this. “Good that the manufactured ones are killed off when their job is done. Metaverse would soon get migh-ty cluttered if we had doppelgangers piling up all over the place.

“We could bring her back,” points out Al. “We have the seed.”

“Indeed we do. But your focus now must remain on Shelley, our Jennifer Lane, author of 38 romance novels to date and still pilling up all over the place. What was the name of her new publisher?”

“Shady Lane,” replied Al. “Just minted.”

“Hmm, we’ll see how it goes.”

Then Al shared some pictures of it.

“This is the beginning of it. Or end,” explained Al to Thomasina, holding this photo. “Notice ‘Lane’ had been cut off of the sign (leaving only ‘Shady’).”

“In-teresting.”

“And… this one indicates that TILE is strong on this road, this lane, this forgotten byway that even the town of Boulder seems to have trouble locating for trash pickup and so on, at least according to that woman I met. And it’s about a block from downtown!”

“No need to shout,” requests Thomasina. “I know this is weird, trust me.”

“And, then this one… a rock. Thought I’d include that– about 1/2 way up the lane. Do you think it has a wielding spell inside? Like that other one we found in that other 1/2 way spot?”

“Swordstone?” offered Thomasina. She nodded while still staring, still contemplating. “Could be.”

“Sorry about the darkness of the picture. Shady in there, you know.”

“Of course.”

“And then this one just looking up the lane from about the location of the TILE symbol on the side of that house. Obviously a TILE enclave–”

“Obviously,” quickly agreed Thomasina. She paused. “Will you go back today?”

“I guess so.”

“Remember to take your walking stick. The one with the eyes.”

“Always.”

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July 2, 2023 · 2:08 am

00390109

At the first mountain pond, low but discernible as such, he spotted one of those famous angle fish he’d heard about. But angle only mirrors angle as it turns out, as in the corner of the sim of Carumba just beyond where it meets up with Tickle Ridge, Beaver Lagoon, and Westvale. With his lower draw to reduce lag, Al could only see flatter ground from here on up. What was there to skirt? It all seemed like a trap. He rang up Tom again.

“Get out, abort,” came the suggestion, nay, order from his superior being. “We’ll start again in this direction soon. Regroup at the Bellissaria Homeless Union. There are other people there, I’m sensing now, that you need to interact with. Try to find the turtle for real this time. Maybe even Bart,” even though Tom knew this would be more illusive and the equivalent of finding the goose that laid the golden egg. Could he, can he? There was a reason the ridge dwindled to nothing past Cowabunga. Tom didn’t remember that. Space and perhaps time were being altered.

Never mind that Al was wrong and that the ridge continued a little west of where he was looking, low but discernible again if you remove the hiding trees from his angle. Fate dictated he return to the coast. And he forgot to take care of procuring that stick, which he took as an omen too.

(to be continued)

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July 1, 2023 · 10:50 am

Mountain Man 01 (giving someone a ring)

He paused at the first top to make an important phone call. “Tom? Hi, it’s me. Change of plans — I’m heading into Carumba again.”

Reply.

“Skirt?” he heard. “Yeah, I’m wearing my skirt I guess you could say.”

Reply.

“Oh. *Skirt.* Yeah, I’m just going along the edge of the sim basically. No worries there.”

Reply.

“Don’t be sucked into another anomaly, right. I understand.”

Reply.

“Okay, left — got it. Stick to the ridge.”

Reply.

“I have no food.”

And he has no stick, he realized after hanging up and continuing to walk toward higher parts of the range. He’ll soon solve one if not the other.

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June 20, 2023 · 5:03 pm

5th

It was her 1/2 hour “lunch hour” and she decided to explore the sim, mainly remotely but with some direct teleports. She’d discovered Tigger Peak, currently covered up with false landscaping. And a larger club and bar in the ne corner of the sim — maybe she could get a job there to earn a living instead of working for Al the slave driver. Then, the last parcel she checked (she was going to be late getting back but who cares at this point, she thinks), the Land of the Cows. And she’d found their throne tucked away in the loft of a barn. Seeing no green dots indicating other residents nearby she dared to directly sit in it from her remote viewing spot.

She looked down and counted her white gloved fingers. 10 instead of 8. Good. She was still whole. Like proper milk, 5 percent instead of 2, or at least 4 to make the ratio come out correct. She’d held out her number challenge hand and someone grasped it. She was saved by the FILE, she knew. She had to keep abiding by the golden rule. But nobody said she had to keep working for *Al*. Heck, she could work here, with the cows, be a type of secret, inside agent uncovering their inner workings, including 4 stomachs we assume. But everyone knows that. Deeper secrets; beyond strange body workings. She could see into the soul of the cow, beyond the black and white, and peer deep into red, the ultimate unity. Like alchemy. But… where was the citrinitas? she wondered with this train of thought. The yellowing? The missing 4th? Ah… “Eureka!” she shouted, leaping out of the throne, attracting the attention of at least one other. Someone named Beckett, an expert on historical. An expert on all things missing in the now. Including himself.

(to be continued)

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June 20, 2023 · 1:15 am

who?

She was dressed for maritime fun, but her adventure on the seas with the 2 boats was over, landfall made. She was a company of one and Al was her boss, subordinate, in turn, to Thomasina, formerly Thomas Boyy. Or the same as Thomas Boyy — whatever. TOM, anyway, the archetype, the overarching thing. Back to Al: “We assemble here in the sim of Tigger, you and I, to end the threat of being cowed once and for all. The renegade treatises of Bart and his more learned but less psychic sister Lisa will not be tolerated here. Is that cleeearrrr!?”

“Clear sir,” she said crisply, eager to get on with the job. At least it beats cleaning up Dukie in Hypolazy, another part of the FILE. She could have remained there for a proper reboot. “Yes sir, clear sir.” Then she remembered to salute. Crisply again. She wasn’t use to a military regime regiment but surely she could get use to it (as her back began to ache a bit from standing rigid so long). Surely she could.

He looked her over good. “Did you bring any other *clothes* with you, er, private?” He lorded over her, acting like he controlled the many instead of just the one. He wasn’t Thomasina in other words. He’d have to report back to her soon. Weekly, instead of bi-weekly like Shelley in her individual one. Because more would be added soon, he knew. He didn’t ask to be head of a religion without a price.

“No sir, sorry sir.” She saluted, not knowing if it was needed again but doing the act anyway. “Maritime fun and adventure I was dressed for, nothing more… sir.” Another salute after a quick pause.

Al would turn and look at the boats she brought but couldn’t break protocol. Do we just stand here the rest of the day? Shelley-as-Jennifer thought on her part. And… she better select a name soon, or decide on a name. Probably Jennifer. All grown up from Jenny. Yes, I believe that’s what Thomasina would desire. And she’s the most important one now, the new big boss, same as the old big boss.

(to be continued)

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