Tag Archives: Tronesisia

Burster

“Next month??” Paul was incredulous. Peter SoSo and Tronesisia had paused their dart game to listen in. Mary Tyler began sobbing a bit.

“Yup,” states Terry the fire-ickle bartender. “The blue dude — Improvio I think — came in himself and booked the upstairs for October, same deal they have at Clownski’s. Levi wouldn’t give ’em any more than that at one time over there. But you can bet the bang on my belt there’s more deals to come. Mr. R. — Rocky — likes ’em, likes their music. Bang bang bang bang. More bang for the bucks, he said. Oops. I guess that’s a little insensitive.” But Terry was at least sensitive enough not to repeat the exact sentiment Rocky issued about their group, which was, “f-ck folk.”

“We… have nowhere to go,” Mary exclaimed. “We’ll have to leave Olde Lapara Towne! And I was really beginning to like it here. They’re forcing our hand.”

“Lamb must live,” agreed Peter SoSo. “There’s no killing it now, no going back to where we came from as Peter, Paul and Mary, separate and alone.” Tronesisia tried to nod in agreement but ended up just having a belly laugh. She excused herself by saying her gestures module needs rebooting.

“I think I might have an answer,” Terry said slyly. “Jacob… you know the groovy lawnmower…”

“Of course,” states Peter SoSo. “He’s what keeps us high as the sky.”

“Well… he found a portal right underneath this bar. It’s those sand dunes… sand castle. They lead to a cool and hip and far out place. Said it was called Melancholy Island. I tried it out myself. I think we — or you’s guys anyway — can help them with their problem.”

“What do you mean?” asks a sniffing Mary. Paul offered her his handkerchief.

“You have grass, right? Lots of it, thanks to those magical seeds you bought from New Lynne, Paul.” Mary blew her nose long and loud.

“Correct,” replies Paul, taking a fully loaded handerchief back from Mary.

“Well,” continues Terry, “turns out they *need* grass. They have the stubby version, the stuff that doesn’t really need to be mowed, but you people have the real deal, the weedy grass. The high version.”

Peter has a belly laugh with this as well. He quickly clears his throat and says, “catching,” while looking at Tronesisia. Paul couldn’t help sharing a small smile with Mary in the moment, each thinking that those two, forward looking robot and backward peering merman, were simply made for each other. Just like they were. Paul and Mary held hands.

“Alright, we’ll check it out,” Paul said. Everyone had forgotten about the secret weapon Buster set up, but were quickly reminded when Chef/Inspector Petty (not Pety — he’s different) burst into the bar through the red door and instantly began grilling.

“What all this about Renaldo O’Donnell springing back to life and then dying again??”

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above below

Tronesisia nurses a jigger of cognac and waits patiently in Audrey’s while the others amble about below and beyond. She speaks to the bartender after glancing over at Curled reading ‘Winesap’. “You know, Bean, they should never have named that boy Paper.”

Meanwhile…

Paul finally made it out of that cave.

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Views

“Tonshi’s Realm” in the upper part of the Lapara sim, airport perched on top:

Tenament Square…

… where I currently rent.

Parcel description:

Tenament Square — the economy part of Olde Lapara Towne!

Take the train, hop in a cab, explore the buildings.
This is the new extension to the original downtown, currently being worked on.

Curious patch of yellow grass beneath a train ramp.

Olde Lapara Jaile (my mythology) at the eastern end of tree bespeckled High Line.

Scott Walker, the town’s giant sloth: still wrecking havoc!

Mystery hole.

Scott Walker’s havoc scene through hole.

Tronesisia jumping for joy in her new room at the Grand Lapara Hotel. She’s with Peter SoSo now!

Paul/Duncan in Malone Central, pretty content himself actually.

It’s a beautiful view, after all.

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in and out

Tronesisia walked to the top of the stairs to confront Peter SoSo full on. “I’m here my love,” she said. “We’re in this together now. Lamb.”

Meanwhile, across the tracks from here…


“It’s time Timmy. My Timmy Time tiny horse.”


“Well she got off to a running start and that’s good.”

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G.

“Peters found this on the interwebs yesterday and passed it up to us, Tronesisia. We thought you’d like to know about the missing post, er piece.”

“I had a dream about Lambs.”

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Movements

They talked Peter SoSo into staying a while longer, saying that working on the town trains would keep his mind off his problems. Tronesisia was happy. She didn’t want to be alone again. Positioned in their accustomed places at the raised park, Peter’s thoughts become more interesting to her by the day. Lily created him to be singer-composer Peter Gabriel, she thought to herself, but he turned out differently. He’s beginning to understand that Prissy is perhaps more a sister than a wife — the whole Luke Skywalker-Princess Leila-Star Wars thing again. He feels he didn’t live up to his mother’s hopes, even though the entrance into his own grave secured the sphereing of The Moon’s cube. Second Life’s *Moon* of The Moon, actually. Most curious. And these places don’t seem to exist any longer. They are refugees: Peter, Bendy, Prissy. Drawn here by All Nancy’s who doesn’t seem to be around either. Sacrifice.

Tronesisia is also curiously not that upset about Bendy’s departure with Prissy, unlike Peter. She knows more than him. Something has cleared in her mind. The Muff-Bermingham split is about over.

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corners

Peter SoSo and Prissy have a *ghost* in their bathroom, Bendy pondered when returning to his rowhouse from the hotel. No, not a ghost, an interdimensional being of some sort. A Nancy that is all Nancy’s. All Nancy’s. What does it mean?

Tronesisia, listening in unseen from the other side of the room, knew the answer.

Sissy not Prissy, she thought over and over. Sissy not Prissy, Sissy not Prissy, Sissy not Prissy…

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