Tag Archives: Wendy/Breeze^^++$

cyan dress, black hair: seems oh so familiar

“I’m afraid this is still 1961 guys. The little lady is going to have to sit elsewhere, hmm?”

“There. That’s better. What can I do you for today? Burgers?”

“No, nothing right now. We’ll order later when you have vegetables in salads,” commanded Wendy, appearing as if behind a shadow of a person instead of a real one.

“Suit yourself. My shift is over,” spoke Sarah. “Wanda will be over shortly to check on you. But I wouldn’t hold my breath on the vegetables. Have a nice day.” As she left with her tray of little burgers still untouched, Sarah glanced over at the space that would be a salad bar, currently occupied by a soda fountain and an ice cream counter. Sugar and especially meat would rule the day for a while, she knew. She’d worked in this here city long enough to understand that.

An Everly Brothers hit blared from the jukebox on the far side of the diner, perhaps “Cathy’s Clown”, their latest, as Wendy got down to business. “Soo… you said you know the whereabouts of the black man called Francis. Last seen here in Meat City.”

“The *negro* known as Francis,” rudely corrects Mathew, of a different color skin himself from the “norm”; obviously should have been more understanding of the situation. And why was he here with Susan in the first place?

Susan. Yes, that was her name.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0212, Jeogeot, Meat City, NWES Island, Virginia

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When I awoke, I was encased in sand except for my head. Took a minute to figure out what happened. “Okay, *veeery* funny,” I said to anyone within earshot, hoping someone would fess up to the crime. “Veery funny indeed.” I moved around a bit and my left “sand tit” partially collapsed in the effort. Soon it was all gone, the fake body with no alpha indeed, as I worked my way free. I brushed myself off — Wendy’s dress, exposed arms and legs — of the remaining sand as best I could, looked around. Difficult to tell from facial expressions who the guilty one (or guilty ones) was (or were)… since everyone around me had what appeared to be *bowling balls* for heads. What gives? I asked myself. I walked up to the nearest one. “You there, er, sir. Did you see what someone did to me over there?” I didn’t want to indict the person just because he was closest to the scene. I checked his arms and legs — any sign of digging? None that I could tell. But of course he could have just washed them off in the water.

“Ask Okema,” spoke a muffled voice from the dark ball head of the man. He pointed in the distance to a crowd of ’em playing volleyball. Sumo wrestlers on a break from their regular sport?

It was time to find out who Okema was. Or did he say Omega? I decided to slur the name when I said it to be safe.

“Okay, chumps, who of you lot is named Okemga?” Jeez, one of these f-cks isn’t even wearing a cloth or whatever they call the undergarment, I thought. No one spoke up, just kept silently playing volleyball, with the only distinct sound coming from the ball itself contacting either hand or sand.

“Behind you, young Wendy,” finally said the true “Okemga”, which actually turned out to be his name. I’d morphed Okema and Omega into the correct word. What are the odds?

As he spoke, I remembered earlier. I was putting suntan lotion on my pale pink legs while Okemga looked over, no bowling ball in sight. Regular head — just staring. He admitted he was disappointed that I was wearing that masking dress in the water so he decided to create a pretend body with sand while I later (soundly) dozed on the beach. “Did you like it?” he said with amusement, ball gone now in the present too. “Enhancements — you should think about it, ha.”

I met him again 2 days later in town while walking around the red topped building one last time, big dreams for it shattered. I might have asked him out then and there (I can admire bodies too!) if it weren’t for Newt and the information about human DNA in the dogs. “5 percent?!” I shouted when he laid down the bad news at the Pink Hippo the night of March 1st. In like a lion indeed. I’d have to leave town with my tail between my legs. Back to Old Hen to shut down the original Wendy’s too. I’d have to start over… somewhere. I thought about vegetables and salads for the first time in a long while.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0211, Kangerootown+, Omega, The Cross

1 day even earlier…

I found they’d arranged for me to stay with a prominent town businessman: none other than the owner of the red topped building that I’d had my eyes on ever since I arrived by boat from Wallytown earlier that day. Mayor Golden Jim escorted me over to his house on the western edge of town for introductions. We found him rocking in front of an unlit fireplace, apologizing for how cold it was and that he’d run out of “burny sticks” weeks ago.

Golden Jim immediately scolded him for this. “I told you Wendy would be arriving today; I told you to get your house in order; I could have gotten you all the firewood you could fit into this place of yours, pheh.” He looked around at the numerous cats roaming around here and there while sniffing the air. “And you could have done something with these *animals* as well. Place smells like urine.”

He stood up and turned toward us. An okama! A man who was basically half woman, although I’d never seen one up close and personal like this. He said his name was Majo, and then he leapt on a nearby cube stool face first and proceeded to do some kind of yoga exercise on it, another type of rocking.

“Feel free to use Fuzzy Wuzzy over there to jump in place a while and get your body temperature up. I do 30 jumps 30 times a day now, but I’m always doing this, cold or not. That’s why I keep the house cold because I’m so warm from all the exercise. My apologizes again, fair Wendy.” He stood up once more, approached us, looked me over head to frick’n foot. “Wendy of Alpha I believe,” he said with a kind of disapproving smirk on his face. He was staring right through me.

“No takers for Fuzzy Wuzzy? Very well…”

“… 28 (jump), 29 (jump), *30*,” and he leapt down on the other side now, approaching me until his face was only about 6 inches from mine. “I’ve heard you’re here for my *store*.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0210, Kangerootown+, Omega, The Cross

2 days earlier…

They had wined and dined her after she arrived. The town seemed to want the establishment as much as she wanted to put it there, enthusiasm matching enthusiasm. Town mayor Golden Jim, named for his money instead of his appearance, looks on below as Wendy attempts to pull the local version of an Excalibur sword from a stone…

…failing of course.

All visiting dignitaries have to go through the protocol. Mayorial assistants Mokeujin Gold and (especially) Mokeujin Brass, most definitely named for their color and not their riches — not being paid enough for their valuable services by the mayor — couldn’t help but laugh at sprawling Wendy on the surrounding sand. Golden Jim was above such gutteral amusement, taking it all in like the established ritual it was.

“Next up we have the sculpture of Soupy Sells,” he moves the procession along after helping Wendy off the sand garden’s surface, “the person most responsible for the town as it is. If it wasn’t for his soup… well, we all know the story.” He was tired of telling the story. Maybe it was time to think about retirement too, join Newt in the ranks of the unemployed. 64 fast approaching 65 he himself was. “Golden you’ll notice, just like, well, me. He was my grandfather. Some called him Golden Jack. Some called him Skippy because he also did that. Some: John. Others: Rob. A few even spoke his name as Luther. A person way from up in the mountains addressed him as Oregeno. And I believe (he turned to his assistants here) — correct me if I’m wrong, Gold, Brass — but the former mayor once called him Jasper. And then Evelyn, you know Evelyn who lives by the docks. Think she said his name was Saucy. Saucy Sells. But that was probably just a mistake because of the old popularity of soup and sauce together back in the days. Back in *Evelyn’s* days…”

He went on and on like this, producing new names for the man, the legend they most commonly called Soupy. The spark of love for his job had been reignited. Attention to details like multi-monikers. Golden Jim also went by many names, but that’s another story for another day.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0209, Kangerootown+, Omega, The Cross

Luxembourg?

She was required to wear the hair at all times but she could change the outfit during off hours. Like now. Pink Hippo, lower reaches of Kangerootown over on the Omega continent, her new home of sorts. Where she decided to start the Wendy’s Hot Dog chain, at least until beau Jim Randolph Bastard Pirate reported back to her about the Red Dead planet. Hadn’t heard from him in weeks — probably dead in space, she determined, or crash landed on the planet at best with that rickety looking Humpty Dumpty ship of his. How right she was about the crash, but how wrong she was about the death. About to get eaten by alligators or shot by bandits (reader’s choice), he spotted a nearby fox and used a mod he’d installed just before entering the atmosphere to transfer his soul directly into it, switching over from his current body in immediate peril. Only till he could find another human one to inhabit. He watched from the new body as the teeth of the alligator sank in (or, in the other alternative death scenario, the bullets of the bandit sank in). He quickly scurried through the bush and away from the ghastly scene. Thank Gods for that mod. Actually, one of the God ones he installed upon recommendation of Atlantis High Priestess, who had lived in St. Dennis for a while, enough to know the advantages of God mode and attached mods in the “game.” Like bits for bytes.

Back to the Pink Hippo: Wendy had to decide by tomorrow whether to branch out her fledgling eating establishment to here in Kangarootown, about 5 sims west of the original store in Old Hen. She’d picked a central place in what you could call the burg’s downtown area. Now all she had to do was persuade the owner to give her the site. You can see it here — the red topped one. Just like Wendy. She liked that about the spot. Fate, she pondered.

Newt walked in and sat down beside her, a 67 year old recently retired German hailing from Brussels. Or so he said. “Buy you a drink, Wendy?” How does he know my name? she wondered.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0207, Kangerootown+, Omega, RDR2, The Cross

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“So here be your three cornered hat you left behind, Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate. And your rum.”

“Thanks be to ye Saucy Wendy for being such a good bar wench to me, arrr.”

She smiled, dropped her own fake accent. “Soo, you still heading off into space with that old jalopy outside like you talked about?” She’d watched him sail in on the thing; had her doubts that it was really that seaworthy let alone space-worthy. And so should he.

“Aye, I be doing that very thing still, Saucy Wendy. And…” Dare he ask her to go with him? Too soon? He’d left his hat and his alcohol behind just for this very excuse. To come back and invite her to the stars. Could he go through with it? He’d experienced fierce battles, fierce storms on water. Yet this might be the hardest thing he’d ever done: cold feet on land suddenly; wanting to run away from commitment.

“So, erm, how does all that work exactly?”

He dropped his own fake accent, trying to accustomize himself to land loving ways. “You just aim up instead of forward.” He’d tested it out already. Trouble is, he’d gotten the right creator recommended by fellow pirate and long time mate Black Pearl who he trusted implicitly in the matter of ships, just the wrong vehicle.  She actually meant this…

… while what was waiting outside for him and him alone was this:

The thing never stood a chance. Luckily Saucy Wendy elected to stay behind to start a now famous fast food franchise specializing in hot dogs. Initially.


Jim Randolph’s wrecked ship appearing on Red Dead’s planet…


… along with his tricorn hat and rum.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0608, Maebaleia/Satori, Outer Islands, RDR2

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“April May June passed so fast April Mae Flowers. Now it’s July…”

“And we’re resurrected, yes,” replied Herbert Glenn Gold’s wife of 47 (?) years. “Waiting for action. ‘Annnnnd…'” she attempts to joke like a director. “Remember what happened last time.”

“Um hmm,” Herbert murmured while nodding, wondering where his pudding is. How could he eat his pudding without his meat, though? Strange thought.

“So much promise over on the Jeogeot continent. So much disappointment. House *deleted* after, what was it, 1 month?”

“At that,” Herbert Gold replied, even a bit more disappointed than April Mae over the affair. Speaking of which; he should bring this up now, before we get too far into the story. “I saw Merry Hill Gouldbusk the other day. Supermarket,” he continued. “She had 2 apples and one banana and then excused herself to the cashier and got one orange and slotted it between the 2 foods before the whole thing was rung up, all the items in that order. She was trying to tell me something. She didn’t seem to recognize me, though. I was shocked.”

“Gold face still in place?” April Mae only asked with a little venom. She was use to such sidetracking. After 48 (48!) years you learn to put up with a lot. And fantasizing about a woman half your age is not at the top of the shit list, not any more.

“Yes. Red hair still too.” Herbert stopped here, thinking back, which April Mae spotted. Still worth a hundred dollars? she wanted to ask but held her tongue. Long time ago now. They had bigger worries now, like how to cope with growing old. They had to stick together on this one. She’d seen Mr. Platinum, she’d seen the future. They could not turn back the clock.

“When did you get so tall, dear?” she diverted. She looked right. “And where is our favorite painting on the wall, the Blue Panther? The one we stole from… oh, I can’t recall, hmph, I can’t recall them all.”

Herbert slouched down and then answered the second. “I believe the farmer boy is bringing it over later.”

“What farmer boy?”

Herbert reconsidered. “No, I think it was repossessed. By the Blue Panther and his, erm, agent. Back at the end of novel 36. They came huffing and puffing up the hill to the house. Hill House we wanted to name it. But not after Merry.”

“Of course not,” April Mae waved the idea off. She tried to remember the repossession.

—–

Later in his study he remembered it was a gardener and not a farmer that his wife had had an affair with.

Later on the john, April Mae remembered that the art was destroyed instead of repossessed.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0211, Apple's Orchard, Constantynople, Nautilus, NWES Island, Rank & File

00370302

It was always risky going back to the Omega continent, but I thought this hot dog perched atop a Wendy’s hamburger joint meant something. Wendy’s hadn’t sold the questionable commodity since the mid 80’s, yet here it is. In the present tense of Our Second Lyfe, Oriental style; thinly squirted with mustard.

—–

Barry X. Vampire felt he drove his dinner guests away with his impatience. He was anxious to start the next chapter of his book, his life in general. He stares past a nearby house of one of the guests, a nice enough guy named Stan Gunderson who he met at the market a couple of weeks back, toward the Dead Sea and what he’d always heard called Dead Dog Isle. He wanted to know why it was named that. Was it one of those false memories that seemed to be more common these days? He had to find out.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0302, Omega, Southern

Project Pin

“I love you Chuck, baby, but this is not my bar.”

“Oh… okay.”

“Goodbye.”

“Good–” Chuck looked around — no blonde. More chicks in the joint where that came from, though. There’s a red haired one back there, a black haired one over there. Looks too smart for me. I think I’ll choose the red.

—–

Later:

“No one, *sob*, danced with me!”

“Aww, Ferrn. You still got me. Your old friend Bookie!”

“*Sniff*. Thanks.”

“Here. Use one of my pages as a handkerchief. Go ahead. It won’t hurt.”

Ripp. BLOWWWW.

—–

A soggy, wadded up piece of paper appears between Shelley’s legs, waking her up.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0413, HANA LEI, Mountain Lake, Omega, Sansara

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“I remember seeing you from above, just before Jeffrie’s untimely…”

“… death,” she finished for him. Wendy had gotten over it better than even Axis-Windmill. And she was the bride(!).

Axis-Windmill continued. “You called me Newt back there — when you were still Eyela.”

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

Axis-Windmill thought back again. Beyond the vision of Jeffrie Phillips and Wendy Wheeler on Corton, the Queen and King of Our Second Lyfe truly. Controller of those creatures she was after that. They had a whole encyclopedia on them now, the ones in the right. Wendy Wheeler: in the wrong by then.

“Welll?” she prompted, seeing the space in his steely grey eyes. Time for a reality check.

“Newt,” he tested. The word sounded right: why not. Zero Club, Vim and Vigor, *Energy*… Newt. Short for Newton, as in Helmet.

We have reached the point of no return. Oily way.

“GERONIMOOOOOO!” he thought he recalled. *SPLAT* he definitely remembered.

Who leaped off the cliffs at Corton to their untimely death on the rocks below? Is it still Jeffrie Phillips? Yet he is back thanks to renewing the vows with Wendy Wheeler. How did that work?

And where is he now if not dead (again)?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0604, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Rim Isles, Squared Root City-