Tag Archives: Waldrop^*++++!

April 28, 2025 · 9:06 pm

00460416 (warm up)

“Prince Julian of Droop?!”

—–

“Someone had to take care of him, hubby of mine. Or her. I think it was meant to be us. A family. You, me, er (she points), it!”

“I don’t blame them for shedding all that hair on occasion, spoke Newt to on again off again mate Wheeler, back in their matching Mr. Moon t-shirts for the occasion. “General rated sim here but what can you do.”

“Make sure no one can see in. Make it private even. Plus (she gazes), they have hair underneath their hair. Whatever that means.”

“It means they’re *special*.” 2n1, both understood.

He turns toward the interior. “Now where were we?”

“Summoning a spirit. On that ottoman over there.”

“Oh yeah.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0416, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, NVFS

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March 28, 2025 · 3:26 pm

00460216

Later while Wendy went to the SL Marketplace to buy a new dress with unruined stripes, Barry perused various algorithmic offerings on his Youtube premium subscription service. Soon a video about a particular painting shown in the 60s classic sitcom “The Andy Griffith Show” popped up and he couldn’t resist. Turns out… well: Dali again. Let’s listen in. Fake dialog here we’re talking about, but still seems to fit. 🙂

“*Child’s coffin*??” Andy exudes.

“That’s right Andy,” says Barney, standing proud before him after pointing it out. “Read it in a magazine over at Floyd’s. I’ll help you with things like this, Andy, keep you up to date on all the modern trends. Yup (he sniffs in satisfaction about knowing something the seemingly all knowing sheriff of this here small NC town on the far edge of modernity doesn’t). Artist by the name of Da Lee found it hidden under layers of paint. Child’s coffin, Andy,” he repeats. “Turns out that couple wasn’t grieving for lost crops in that field but something *bigger*.”

Barry wonders where the laugh track was on this episode then realizes the obvious. He looks down to see a glowing tie: dream again.

Wendy opens the door to the small cottage, startling him awake from his afternoon nap. “What do you think?” she said, twirling around in place to show the purchased dress off.

“I think… we need a TV.”

“And a bed!” Wendy added. She was feeling frisky again, their checkered, unaligned past be damned. Start anew; forget the old. Rebirth.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0216, Jeogeot, Mayberry, Nawt Vaya, NVFS

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May 26, 2023 · 4:51 pm

00380416

A flat place to rehab my back and still get away from it all. A void space between Haze County’s 2 primary towns of Blue Mountain and Boulder. A home away from home of sorts. Jenny Lane, all grown up as it were and lacking in signage if not tell-tale weeds.

Won’t be there forever; trying to enjoy while I can. Got a reading tree which is apple, etc. Wedding chapel just beyond one end…

… Barney car just beyond the other. Barney car! We’ve been here before.

https://www.troymessenger.com/2019/06/14/back-to-mayberry-local-couple-recreates-classic-andy-griffith-car/

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0416, Blue Mountain, Boulder

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May 12, 2023 · 8:37 am

couched terms

“Hello, Tom? I’ve arrived. And there’s a sprite already here, just like you said there would be.”

(reply)

“Hold on.” He removes the phone from his ear, looks over. “Honey, what’s your name?”

“Morgan,” she said in an ordinary enough voice for a part plant person. He raises the phone again.

“Morgan, she said.”

(reply)

“Wrong place??”

—–

“And that’s what brought me here, to the tree, to the *mutants*,” he said to John the Mind Reader still sitting opposite him in the present, drinking his coffee, still enjoying the beans. “Spill some more,” he requested, leaning back, carefully sipping at this tilted angle. Sometimes just the mention of the word triggers the event, he knew. The others finally arrived, the lot of ’em, crammed altogether in a lime green truck with Dude on the side and Chevy Dodge on the back. Joker and Jester, Jethro and Bauer, Doug and Clyde (formerly Tin Tin and Clubby). Paired troublemakers all. Liars to the hilt. They say caffeine makes you so if unchecked by alcohol. And there hasn’t been a (wal)drop of beer wine liquor in this levee type of place since January. And then: Jackson Bloch riding tailgate, the strangest of them all.

But where was Ted? all began to murmur as they took their usual seats in the establishment set up near the lip of the Great Fissure or Fracture, your pick. “Right here,” micronized Ted said unseen in the center of it all, tightly clutched by his new master.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0307, Hana Lei^^, The Waste^^

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May 4, 2023 · 3:38 pm

lordy lordy lordy

“Nah, I think you boys have it backwards. Go back and check. Pull Ted in with you this time, John, since he has the better peepers. Go up the stairs or down the stairs or however you do it — together.”

“Down,” said John to this. “I always head down.”

“Well there you go.” And Al was finished with the story for now and waved them outta his palatial office. Tom showing up in 1/2 an hour, one the more uppity uppers. He had to prepare, emotionally as well as mentally. Brace himself for what is coming.

The truck that had turned lime green in the meantime arrived at the Dorr’s house in Tyrone, New Mexico just south of mural filled Silver City where it was rented day before yesterday’s last week by the Horns.

Finally united for a common cause, they cautiously made their way up to the azure blue front door, Horns of Hatton activated. They paused at the bushes; peered around the corner to see what Good they were up against. The portal opened creakily from the other side. They turned away just in the nick of time. They noticed one of the angels was sight challenged — in shadow — while the other with his big, lidless eyes definitely could see the truck if not them. They had made a huge mistake in driving it here.

“Dude,” read that one to the other in the doorway. “Not Dud. Al was right. It wasn’t the *past*. It’s the *future*.”

The Devil couldn’t get away with it this time. He’d have to exit Grant. He took depossession of the body. Grant was saved by the powers of the door. Of the Dorrs.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0209, Illinois, New Mexico, The Waste^^

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April 18, 2023 · 8:30 am

Ghergie silhouette

After all the bad news lately, Newt is encouraged by finding a purple cube in a residence owned by a Sands, obvious nod to The Void again, an important important concept now in these here photo-novels, numbers growing bi- or tri-monthly. Things (post generation) seem to be slowing down a bit lately as virtual shifts more to physical, Our Second Lyfe into Real Life. He’d just driven a lime green truck, color symbolic of irreality itself, through a wall in a bar and down a dusty road outta here. Found the center again: Fife. But the levee was dry. Barney was off his tits again, trading places with Otis Campbell as town drunk. Just like in, what was it, Lassie? Anyway, it all seemed fruitless, especially since Squared Root City went away sometime in the past several days. Nowhere now to further the plot of Shelley, with help from her keyboard talented mom, rehearsing her Crazy Blue act. She beamed in just yesterday to find abandoned land, the whole sim of Squared Root now vacant. PHEH (add that to the PHEH category, folks!). And also the bigger chunk of Nightsity got deleted about the same time so perhaps no furthering of the story there either, seemingly, although a small part remains in that case. And so tonight finds Newt just roaming around his new-ish neighborhood in what he’s deemed Lemon Free State (independent from both Lower Austra and Wild West of Nautilus’ declared continental states), trying to figure out if it’s all worth it, the monthly rent to the Lindens, etc. Death wish taking over again. Then the cube: encouragement for a change! Perhaps Grant Hill and his Sprite drinking ways is still around after all, lemon combined with lime to make it all taste better, not bitter.

—–

The blue phone rings in the Sands house just as writer Barry X. Vampire is ready to head back to the Omega continent for more excitement and adventure. Whatever happens, we always have that. The End, which also loops back to The Beginning, ouroboros complete. Must be Wheeler, as in Wilson. Better get it.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0611, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Nightsity, Omega^^, Wild West

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April 14, 2023 · 10:52 am

00370608

He is greeted in Heaven by the Man in the Middle, the Man About Time, some say. Just that damn important.

The knowledge and power of the center of it all, Fife to some, was drying up. Time to heal. Time to drive the Chevy to the levee, or at least a Dodge. Man About Time was waiting. On his heels drunk.

June 14, 2012 – the pond at Fife’s Grove Park. It has since been reconstructed.

The fated journey actually started here In Real Life, in the shadow of Pink Peak and exactly on the perimeter of the encompassing 1 square mile pink circle I’ve put around it. Shine is the place of the drinks. Brookshine, let’s say, a portmanteau of sorts, and with the trailhead of perhaps now inaccessible — because of the poison ivy and all — Mystery Gorge just beyond.

https://bakerbloch.com/2022/04/19/00320507/

Once she was Alysha. He sighs, thinking of his former girlfriend, like if Thelma Lou left Barney for Sherriff Andy Taylor, attracted to the shine of the bigger badge. Another King over Bishop (or Rook) situation, then. Or a King’s Bishop anyhoot.

note: Throne House on the other side of Blue Mtn. from Pink Peak (place of Turtle Head) on this map my actually be Tyrone. Texas Pete. Gonna play with that.

https://bakerbloch.com/2022/04/20/00320509/

“*Miss* Ouri,” Man About Time dutifully wanted to say but held his almost always mild tongue. No need to bring Texas Pete into this, his mama always said about verbal acidities. She trained him well; he absorbed everything he could from her. Poor Mama, he lamented. Hanging with the angels now.

And that’s about the last we see of Man About Time until now, speaking time-wise.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0608, 0609, Blue Mountain, City Park, Country Park, Red Hill

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March 27, 2023 · 3:21 pm

Mr. Chicken

“Inter-resting,” spoke Ruby to begin. “A drawer who is not a drawer. 2 places at once.”

“What does it *mean*?” asks Baker B., shaking as much as the apparition. Not fidgety, then, as much as plain out scared. Shakiest gun in the west. Which meant: on the other side, they were as much ghosts to him as he to them. At least Baker B. was.

“Stop shaking,” requested still pretty calm and cool Ruby Fantasie the soothsayer from Spirit Witch who was more use to these things. “Settle down. Look where the gun is pointing.” She meant to say planchette but let the mistake stand. Channeling.

“At me!”

“At *you*! Pull the trigger. Go ahead (she also spoke to the one on the other side of the veil): pull it. It won’t hurt him. Finish the act of the drawing. Finish it up. End it. Go ahead. Goo aheadd…”

Baker B. couldn’t do it, Ruby Fantasie realized. There would have to be another time on the opposite side of the Great Cycle, as I’m just now calling it. One great cycle = one photo-novel, 37 in a series so far. The 37th is also a romance of a novel thanks to Shelley and her Umbrella Klub funded eyes. Club. And then the manifested magic works its way back from end to beginning. Aloha.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0412, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

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March 27, 2023 · 8:40 am

fidgety (blue pill (party 11))

He was trying to stay in the present and read about horses in a row but his mind kept going back to Evelyn. Evelyn Hart. She was the center of his world; the love of his life. His name? I’m picking up on Murdochh, yess, a Middletown moniker. The plot thickens more, like a vanilla shake turning chocolate and beyond. This man was a link.

If only the toys would stay still enough for a proper portrait (dramatization).


“Stay. *Still*.”

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March 19, 2023 · 6:04 am

00370309

After 36 successful romance novels about Edward and a lot of others, she was rolling in cash; could literally make herself an angel in the floor with it.  But she was no angel. Demon instead — she knew this deep down in her heart, despite what surrogate father Keith B. told her back at the beginning of section 01. She’d sold her soul; ground angel she was in the end. Worthless.

—–

After waking up and reviewing the dream, she decided there was only one thing to do. Tell Arthur about Edward. No, not the *actual* truth. The reality in the novel, 5th in a series. If she did, maybe she could nip what was coming — blooming — in the future in the bud. She had to pull a Barney Fife.

“There’s someone out there in the dunes — do you see it, Arthur?”

“Mirage,” he waved it off. “I’ve seen it too. Then it disappears if you stare at it enough.”

Sure enough, Shelley watches the illusion fade to wavery nothingness. She turns, tired of facing the huge mountains of sand. She’s in the present. Arthur turns with her.

“We haven’t been to that island over there.”

“No. But I sensed you have a point to make. You hardly touched your dinner.”

“You know I don’t like vegetables.”

“Not the point.” He sighs. Sandman, he thinks. Must ask about Sandman.

“I—” Pause.

“Yess?”

“I… write.”

(to be continued)

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