“What was it about that jar?” Sister Martha Lamb wondered for yet another time concerning Falmouth 08, even going so far as to rez a small couch in front of it for further analysis. “Copyright protected image; inside but also broken through,” she continued thinking aloud. “A weakness but also… hmmm.”
She still couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“Give. Me. Some. PILLS!”
“Flying high are we again tonight Annie? And we’re also joined by Young Ruby. Hi Young Ruby!”
“Hellooo,” the 15 year old replied innocently across the table. The Table. She was also flying high but in a different way.
“And of course The Librarian between you. But let’s go further up tonight, guys” Axis suggests, retaining a small, mischievous smile upon his lips, Mona Lisa style. “To the Hitop Pool of Undifferentiated Lovemaking. Love, I meant there. 1/2 and 1/2. And I believe its Hilltop. Let’s top, er, hop to it!
“Annie, you chose the red tube. That means you’re temperamental and undisciplined. Ruby you chose the blue one. You are even keeled and fun to work with. Your weaknesses are chocolate…”
“… butter pecan…”
“… and lemonade.”
“Sure ’nuff! Remarkable Axis.” Young Ruby was amazed over how spot on his on-the-spot psychoanalysis was. Axis was an evil genius for sure! And also: in that order.
“It’s time for me to turn into the dog.”
Oh goodie, both women thought as one. Their love of Tin Tin was only matched by their love for their weaknesses, but unfortunately he had his back to them tonight with not much to say.
The sun was rising on Hilltop Pool. The sun was always rising here, over wealthy and poor alike.
Facing threats to the south (Cult of Oo’d)…
… the east (Fal Mouth Moon)…
… the north (Stairs)…
… Sister Mary Lamb retreats into her fortress of cheese to worship the gateway gods. She chooses liquor tonight just to switch it up…
… but when fellow devotee Jack Richardson starts to sneeze and sniff beside her, she changes back to the standard fries on the opposite side of the prayer room.
Good ol’ fries. Never lets her down. Now if she could only stop stealing glances at Baker B.’s degenerate collages in the Fal Mouth Moon across the street and focus on the Great Cheese. That hand, that hand…
One worry: she’ll start to develop stigmata but of the wrong kind. Tell tale type.
It’s all leading somewhere but she doesn’t know where.