Tag Archives: Wheeler Wilson^^======@

00350109

Well. Reading *that* certainly made me hungry.

But we better bring in the potential groom to be. Blast from the past.

“You’ll have to get rid of the mohawk,” I say over.

“Done.”

“And the red and blue eyes.”

“Also: done.”

“Annd… the lipstick.”

“Oh. *Okay*. But I’m keeping the earring.”

“Fine.”

“Soo where’ve you been?” He looks kind of like me at that age, Newt thinks, finally somewhat satisfied with The Musician’s appearance. Needs to put on some pounds; seems a bit gaunt. Punk life must be rough on him that way.

“Off the grid,” he answers. “Touring,” he elaborates.

“In your… band.”

“Yeah.” He takes another sip of the wine he brought along, not chancing a strange brand from an unknown place. Although the overall location pretty near the Rubi Woods was familiar to him. Patagonia here. Like the brand of jacket that Franklin wasn’t wearing. Instead: Columbia, which she soiled with her toothpaste. It’s fine, though.

“Last time I checked you were in Sunklands.”

“That wasn’t me,” he shot back, not claiming responsibility for being in that club, The Cavern. “Someone else,” he stands firm.

“Despite the similar appearance? Despite the mohawk?”

“Yeah.” He’d been through this before. He had a female double. Jacob I. knows. If we can wake him up from where he slumbers.

“Alright, how about, let’s see, Paper-Soap?”

“Nope.”

Pause as I continue to read/study. “Then let’s try the Omega continent’s Straight. With Duncan Avocado.”

“Okay. Recall *something* about that.” He scratches his now bare head, trying to reveal memories.

“Duncan was mad at you because you were disguising yourself as grown up in an adult infohub. Something, hold on, about milk and cookies. You were looking over at milk and cookies. But was it *really* milk–”

“I remember,” The Musician cut him short. He’d grown up fast that day, if not nearly enough to match his body at the time. But he could change back very quickly in those days. Aah, the energy of youth.

“And then… you said you aren’t the same as the woman version of you, right? The director as I’m recalling through this review of ours.”

“Correct.” There was an interesting mystery there to be solved, I log through Newt. Him but not him. A her. “And then — I guess we’re all the way back to when you were with Wheeler.”

“Why I’m here,” he replied simply and took another sip. He jumped at the chance to marry her this go around, in whatever form she has. He’d seen pictures and that was enough. “Sold,” he said to me. Thus the meeting at this cafe beneath the giraffe which he rode in on.

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link?

“Yeah, this place is definitely whacked,” he said, trying his own i-pad for size.

They were down on the beach now. North — South. The only directions Albert could successfully navigate. Although he could still look “out”. Claude was back with him. Albert knew more, knew he was stuck for some reason. And Claude or someone directly connected to him was responsible. And he now called himself a *receiver*. What the hell? “Like Paul Warfield?” he decided to say to this. Silence between them after that, then:

“That wasn’t very nice what you called me back there.”

“Back where?”

“West from here. This is North, we *were* in West. Thus all the sideways stuff. You’re *stuck*.”

“Hmm, so you’ve said.” He could look out but not go out — lateral. Like a chess piece that can only move file and not rank or diagonal.

“Is it because I’m a prevert? Is that why I’m here?”

“Could be could be.” He was still working with his i-pad despite the sideways disadvantage Albert could clearly see from his angle. Claude made sure of that.

“Tell you what,” he then said. “Look over there, in the distance. See that darker boat with the mast sticking up? Just over there behind the swing thing hanging from the palm.” Albert follows his point and sees.

“There’s two women over there on that island, just on vacation, a break from the rat race. They’re *gay* mind you, no two ways about it if you know what I’m saying. I know you don’t like gays.”

“I don’t like *anybody*,” Albert reinforced, indeed prejudice against the world at large. He’s hateful and hurtful when he sees an opening. The disrespected minorities like Claude, like those ladies apparently, just represent a more worldly acceptable target to him. He tells this in basically using the same words and phrasing to Claude.”

“I know, that’s why I’m giving you this chance. The boss — at least the one I deal with — has given you a break because — well, just like you said. You hate the world in general, etc., etc.”

“I *do*,” Albert reinforced. “Thus the black, thus the infatuation with black. I like black.”

“One thing,” Claude then said. “Apologize.”

“For what?”

“Apologize about what you said to me back there, on the beach.” He pointed West this time instead of North, or North by Northeast. Could Albert do it?

(to be continued)

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00340703

“Who is it baby doll?”

“It’s the *agency*.”

“Well, keep trying to smile.”

“Hello?” she says. “Yeah, this is him, well, his proxy.” She winks at actor Lemont Sanford, currently unemployed but not caring. They’d made so much on the dog.

A pause as she listens to the other party. Then: “Back? Kill van Kull? I’ll tell him.”

Lemont Sanford, best known for his role as Arthur Kill back there, picks up that there’s no one else on the line. This was all a sham. “You’re *synthesized* part is all lined up,” she said, putting away the phone — somewhere. He couldn’t help note the purple again.

10 days later they were back on the set in Middletown getting married to a new wedding theme, someone name Bodenheimer I believe. 10 weeks later the character played by the actress divorce the SOB. But not before something happened, something very important to the future of this blog and attached photo-novels.

In a word: Liz.

END OF “SUNKLANDS PHOTO-NOVEL 34”

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00340615

“I’m starting to like the classical view of Our Second Lyfe more than any other, like this standard midday environment here, Wheeler. I’m starting to think the original Lindens had it right at the beginning. Linden trees — never surpassed. Classic avatars…”

“Like me,” Wheeler jumped in. She smiled toward Newt, her husband past present future, if not her current boyfriend who was another. She was many things in one. Just like Newt, I mean, Baker. But not her boyfriend. A figurehead. A prime minster for a queen, king hidden away in the shadows still.

“Liz knows,” says Baker/Newt. “Shelley didn’t tell her but she knows. She’s older in a future kind of way.”

“Strange way to think of it (!),” replied self playing Wheeler. She was not as shape shifty as Newt/Baker, but superior in other directions. They were complements.

Pause as they took in the pretty environment below the revived Roost Castle. They’d followed Liz and Shelley there, since they were them.

“You know what Shelley said today — just a moment ago, actually.”

“That you were beautiful?”

“Yes.” She looked over at Newt expectantly. Would he say the same? Her legs were too long still, she felt. He didn’t think of them that way any more and said so. She needed reinforcement. The scars on her face from that steam accident were healing but still showed up in the mirror when she stared at it first thing in the morning.

But he was not her boyfriend. “You better get ready to play the role of grown-up Shelley. Coming up soon, you know, maybe this photo-novel, maybe postponed to the next. But she owns the castle. You is her,” he finalized.

We have a mystery in the middle which is the end.

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Roost rest

Emboldened by the speeding up of time, Shelley remotely scans the castle on the highest peak of the peninsula and then teleports directly over through double click when she finally finds something more interesting. To her disappointment, the place seemed vacant of life and energy. Except for these bubbles. Perhaps they are the key — ‘nother one. She sends a teleport invite to Liz to join her once she figures out what they are.

“Whoa!” Shelley utters when assuming the pose inside the topmost one. “Far out, I mean, far *down*.”

“Whoops, I’m falling, weee!” joins in smaller Liz, finally receding from Shelley agewise. One whole season (!).

They try a couple more before settling on these two for another talk about Wheeler and Newt, the peninsula as a whole, where they’re heading individually and collectively. Photo-novel 34 was coming to a close, ending at this location (as stated). But more adventures certainly lay ahead for them in the future: the core avatars, Baker Bloch (Newt in the moment; also Kid Shelley), Wheeler Wilson (playing herself and Liz presently), and the rest. They are a family now, traveling through virtual space and time and even popping up in Our Reality once in a while, like Arthur Kill in Tennessee recently in order to retrieve Spider the Dog and bring him back to the metaverse. We must catch up with that particular storyline soon, maybe after we finish with the kids here.

“Wheeler is *beautiful*,” started Shelley again with the observing and hypothesizing. “Moreso than I knew. I hope I look that great when I…”

“… grow up,” completed Liz for Shelley. She was beginning to hope that both would remain kids from now on. She liked the companionship. Although Shelley kind of avoided her at first, when she learned about the whole mother-daughter aspect, Liz could tell she was treating her more like a fellow kid lately. They were going on kid-like adventures. They were having *fun*. She decided to tell Shelley this.

“Aw, man,” uttered the older girl to this. “You *know* I have to grown up so that I can produce *you*. I have to find George. I have to get married. I have to get, well, *pregnant* — by George I’m assuming.” Shelley said too much here, she knew. Why the different race for Liz? In her imagination where he was produced, George was not African-American. She’d had future visions. But this has happened before — she can’t remember, can’t put her finger on it.

“Tell me about your mother,” she asked over to the smaller one, finally broaching the elephant in the room.

“She was *beautiful*,” began Liz. Wheeler.

(to be continued)

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00340613

“We’re struggling to get to the end, W.”

“We’ll make it — have confidence. Put the kids on the back lawn of the castle and have them stare at the newly resurrected Roost Never Sleeps up on the peninsula’s high peak. Make *that* the focus from now on. You are doing well, swell even. Don’t worry about the tangents. You are focused on the peninsula and that is good. This is how it’s suppose to be.”

“Sorry about your beach,” I decided to insert. Wheeler — W. — had been kicked off for head butting Newt (and visa versa), but a different kind involving the latter more than the former. Darn postmodern beachwear! But there’s more places to hang out here and stay true to the location. Now to those kids…

“It’s just as big as the old one, maybe bigger.” Liz Struthers, proposed present and future daughter, grandkid to Newt and Wheeler, I mean, Wheeler and Newt. “I’ve seen pictures.”

“Center of Our Nautilus for sure,” spoke projected mother Shelley Struthers. “Great Summer Project!”

“Summer?” questioned the little one who sprang from her loins in a future time, probably about as far up as Wheeler went to retrieve that bathing suit. Liz indicated this was Fall already, number of days in, actually.

Shelley was overjoyed. She’d skipped over a season. She was starting to age faster!

She’d check the downstairs works later.

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far away from the old

“Wheeler says I got to grow up fast so’s I can married George, Milo. Whereever he is.

“So I took this job at the bar below the castle. *Pretend* job, anyways. I don’t know nothing about mixing drinks or anything, Milo. But it makes me appear *big*. In the eyes of others at least.”

Milo meows meekly, perhaps unconvinced, and moves himself and his two attached eyes on his little kitty flannel cap away from Shelley, hopping down to the ground in order to get to the milk bowl for a refresher. Suddenly she doesn’t feel that big; feels exposed again to the world with it not directly in front of her, protecting her, comforting her. The castle is just out of view to her right, thankfully. She doesn’t want to think about marriage right now, nor the child that would supposedly be born from her loins despite the race difference, a child already *here* — future style. Speaking of which, here comes her first potential customer of the day her career. Wheeler, wearing the latest postmodern beachwear from Germany. At least Liz isn’t with her, she thinks — probably left up at the castle with Newt or whatever he’s going by these days. Perhaps Man in Black still. Nah, she remembers, that persona was ditched with the return to the peninsula. *Her* peninsula they kept calling it.

Wheeler spots Shelley in the distance, comes over. “Oh hi, just heading down to the ocean to catch some serious rays today. You like?” She turns around, modelling the futuristic — thing. Purple force fields instead of cloth. Daring! And the *back*… She recalls the photo in the box, the one that caused so much trouble. Borneo.

“Yeah, sure.” Does Wheeler even know? she ponders. Suddenly she wished Liz was with her so she’d have someone to talk with all that.

“Soo… what’re *you* doing down here?” Shelley comes out from behind the bar, chickening out of the role play. “Oh nothing. Just playing, heh.” She stands awkwardly in front of the outfit, wondering how all that worked. Plasma? Lasers?

Wheeler looks in the distance again, spots the place she wants to lay to maximize her time in Our Second Lyfe’s always bright always tanning sometimes burning sun. Nah, best to move one spot over so she’ll be under the umbrella later on. She looks at Shelley again with this, notes the eyes through the reflected purple glow. Still ordinary brown, it seems — no books in them yet, nor the rest of the interwebs. That will come later. But it better come quick.

(to be continued)

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Bonnie &

“Your dog’s standing on my foot, right?”

“Hand it over!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0608, Nautilus, North, Slaashsides

All of West Virginia is suddenly at her disposal.

Wheeler, now Raspberry Girl, took the opportunity of her mate and partner in crime Johnny Black being away to catch up with some synchs, specifically “Waits 4 No 1” tonight.

As “Constantinople” begins playing to the end of “6 Feet Under”, people on screen soon to start dropping like flies, she recalls that 12 of the 13 tracks from The Residents’ seminal “Duck Stab/Buster and Glen” album are used in the synch, including this one. She also recalls… stabbing the Duck. She feels the purple-ish beret on her head reflexively, as if it might be hair.

David falls backwards dead, the first to succumb. She forgets the vision.

At 1 hour and 43 minutes in, past all 12 “Duck Stab/Buster and Glen” tracks now, she sees this, dubbed by “The sleeper has awoken” uttered by Dune’s Paul.

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Man in Cash

“Maybe the flag with the black spider on it makes people nervous.”
–Young Greti, Sound of Music

The more modern German colors of red, yellow, were fading fast, leaving only Black. Johnny Black, formerly known as Axis but changing his name for obvious reasons; same for his dog Swastika who goes by Spider now (thanks Greti!).

He also finds a substantial amount of money has been deposited in his bank account for some reason (goes with the new name, actually) and acts quickly to purchase this out-of-the-way, sans-indoor-plumbing shack he’s had his eyes on for a while. Center or near the center of some kind of Paper-Soap psychic anomaly, at least one time. He’s eager to try to resurrect, and he thinks he knows how.

He’s also gained 6 inches of height after, ahem, opening the box. It’s actually a different core I’m working with here, *not* Baker Bloch. A more suitable companion to Wheeler Wilson, a kind of reflection really. Sometimes also goes by Wilson Wheeler just to confuse and conflate the two even more. I suppose a comparison with notorious Real Life crinimals Bonnie and Clyde is not out of order either, especially given the involved women’s matching caps. Bonnie could have been an inspiration for Wheeler, along with Prince and his Raspberry Girl of course.

Newt’s also queerly acquired pointy ears in the transformation, like Spock. Best to get a hat soon as well.

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