Tag Archives: Uncle Stinky^*

review

Cassandra City still holds promise but probably not for this here current photo-novel. Baker Bloch must take his leave, rented apartment in town unused. Big Dick, a Phil actually, waits patiently in the corner of his hotel lobby, looking forward to more communication through the aether.

—–

Story possibilities in Heartsdale, a major driver early on in photo-novel 20, have most likely been exhausted as well. Let’s return there for a similar, final shot: Baker Bloch in front of Small Wood posing with Teddy, a black and white horse owned by an avatar named Zero.

Both glimpse Philip Strevor through a broken gate to the sidewalk. Strangely, the duplicate Yoko Ona that also walked around this particular Heartsdale block is gone now. Yoko as a whole has probably moved on from this sim.

—–

There seems to be more in Iris, a place to be focused on still. For example, there’s a kind of, um, inexplicable “hole” in the center of the 4-5 sim region owned by [delete name], who may actually, in Real Life, be [delete word]. If so, *Crooked* seems to be a link. The prominence of the Moth Temple seen in the background here, the “eye” of the whole Heterocera continent, could play a role in the hypothetical overshadowing of this mystery spot.

—–

Toppsity? I’m not sure what took place in the trial of Yoko Ona. We *know* that she spat on Baker Bloch when he tried to turn her right-side up from upside down while both were fishing in Heartsdale Bay, the last Heartsdale related post in this here photo-novel actually. You don’t spit on the chief avatar of a blog, the one the owner most identifies with, and get away with it — at least in the blog itself, where we still are last time I checked. (pause) Yes, I just checked. We are still in the blog.

But the witches of her coven eliminated original judge Tronesisia: drowned, with a possible saving ship arriving too late in the early afternoon after the late morning accident. Then the several witnesses we know of — Miss Raincoat (aka Sammy Whatammy), Uncle Stinky, and probably Crayola as well (aka Tammy Whatammy?) — have all been linked to maleficent forces too. Wait, let me check that again. (pause) Uncle Stinky has *not* been associated with such forces. He still can be used by the prosecutor George A., who we’ve not talked about since that particular post either. So we should return to Toppsity and finish the trial. Defendant Yoko Ona may be called to the stand herself. *That* could be interesting.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0614, Cassandra City^, Heartsdale^^, Heterocera^^, Iris^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Toppsity^

witch trial

“Thank you for your testimony, Miss Raincoat. You can get rid of the evidence.”

“Thank you my liege.”

“Does the prosecution have, er, any more witnesses to call today? Choose carefully. This case seems almost open and closed.”

“If you will my lord and liege, I call to the stand Uncle Stinky, a long time sailor of the Blue Feather Sea of this fair and fine continent.”

Judge Tronesisia looks around the court, sniffing a bit. Then she spots him with both senses as he enters from the right, grazing the shopping cart full of toilet paper in the process. “Pardon me,” he says while staring into wheeling Miss Raincoat’s stormy eyes. It was hate at first sight. And smell. They would meet much later, but she would be a mechanoid and he a pleasure drone on Alpha 9 by that time. Far far removed from this court perched on the 5th floor of the 5 story Burger Joint building. Prosecutor George A. lived right smack in the middle on the 3rd. You could say this was home base for him. He was in his element, stinky or not. He approached the bench after the witness was seated and the dirty air around him settled down.

“Now Uncle… Stinky is it?”

“Yeah. What of it?” True to a sailor he was salty, he was fishy, oily even. The odor might not be that unpleasant if it was Friday at, say, 5-7 o’clock.

George A. briefly contemplated asking him how he got his name and then dismissed it as irrelevant to the case. This was his ace in the hole. No room for error from this point on. He had to be tack sharp (!). Instead: “Tell us about your adventures on the sea. *The* Sea.”

“The Cube?” Uncle Stinky shot back, like a cannon on a ship of military design. “*The* Cube?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” George A. answered back. He turned and explained to the court that the Blue Feather Sea is often called the Blue Feather Cube or just “The Cube” by locals of the area. He doesn’t go into detail. He turns and asks a follow up. “Do you know about The Mermaid? The Mermaid at the bottom of said Sea? Or Cube?”

“Yeah, sure. But we on the western side of the sea call it The Porpoise.”

“Um — you mean The Jellyfish.”

“Objection,” barked defense attorney Cat-Witch behind him. “The prosecutor is leading the witness.”

“Overruled.” Tronesisia was fair if antiquated. She would see the truth through, like a bloodhound. “Answer the question, Mr. Stinky.”

(to be continued)

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centering 03

“Mermaid? What the flying f-ck? We always called that the Jellyfish.”

“Just humor me, Uncle Bob.”

“Uncle Bob?”

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centering

We better get back to the ‘X’.

He was dreaming of that creature again who lived at the bottom of the Blue Feather Sea. Olivia. With aspects of Tracy but also different. Obviously a mermaid, yes, but something else as well. Whale? He can’t quite put his finger on it. But — different. Unique, even.

Something about the patterns.

—–

The Mermaid it’s been called for many long years now, son,” spoke Uncle Barnacles to Craighead Phillips later on. “It’s why, it’s why…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. But Craighead could translate: It’s why he can’t remember what year it is, let alone century. Craighead tested him later. “17th?” UB ventured.

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