Tag Archives: Wheeler Wilson^^++++\@

August 5, 2021 · 6:59 am

res(e)t

“Alright enough of this mumbo jumbo hoochie koochie stuff, Minister (same as the funeral home director, conveniently enough). Let’s just get it over with and open the coffin.” Petty was inpatient to see what the Anomaly of this amalgamated town, Paper-Soap, was actually like. A plasmic entity as the sheriff suspected, one Wilbur Marshallford of Pennsylvania, Indiana? A luminous, demonic birthday hat as Koyla, Stu Umbriel, and now black-not-Indian Chief thought, product of that ill advised party and decisions made there? Probably glowing then, wouldn’t you think?

“Just as I suspected,” Chef-inspector Petty continued after the coffin lid had been raised mentally by all attending. “This plot is empty; Ruby is no longer in this world. Only a figurative diamond remains. But to whose hand? Who is wedded to the grave?”

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August 2, 2021 · 10:36 am

Yelloo!

After work, Wheeler returned to the theatre to watch more of Kane, studying each clap closely. Stu Umbriel mosied in, and seeing Wheeler down front suddenly had a hankering for a frozen one. Kolya (aka Ben aka Gus) came in immediately afterward — they either walked or drove over together — and then the last of their party sauntered inside as well, a person they derogatorily called Chief, because of his Indian heritage. Thing is he sat down on *top* of Kolya and kind of merged with him, Devil power showing its pitchforked ways again. Stu didn’t look over, just glad it wasn’t him this time. Chief had been taken over for sure. Maybe it’s the common redness, he speculated while woofing down another popped kernel. He watched Wheeler pop in hers. Maybe they could pop some common food together sometime, he thinks, seeing something different in the claps as well. Just keep studying, he said to himself. We’ll compare notes later. As soon as I can ditch the Devil Boys.

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August 2, 2021 · 9:47 am

00270610

(News)papers whirl together with leaves in a perpetual dust devil down at the tracks near the tunnel, reminding us of yellow journalism…

… in association with perpetually clapping *Kane* at the all day all night theatre just on the other side of the square with the “Pooping Pigeon” statue, as some locals have started calling it, blocked from our view by a mossy double oak with ivy in that picture up above. Or make that here:

And here’s Kane’s hands in the theatre, not to be confused with canes in hands, as in Dr. Mouse’s.

Checkered face Wheeler with him now, out on break from the banana, Mouse points again, making the connection.

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July 31, 2021 · 8:35 am

Mouse Tales

I: How did you come to Paper Soap, Dr. Mouse. Paul, isn’t it?

DM: Yes. I came the way most people come. Through the tunnel. You have to find the G Spot to get in of course.

I: I think I see where this is going.

DM: Yes. It’s all Fraudian (laughs).

I: How did you become head of The Asylum? I know this has something to do with Filetown — helping you out there.

DM: Well I certainly had a lot of *files* to bring through the tunnel with me after getting the job.


files

But seriously, it indeed started way back in Pennsylvania as a file clerk. Filetown is what I personally called the place I lived. That’s where I met Alpha. And Wendy.

I: Tell us about your relationship with Wendy. And Alpha if you wish.

DM: They are (actually) one and the same. Alpha hides what Wendy is. She’s right here — right over there (he points out the window with his cane toward the conveniently placed big banana sticking up from the pavement next to the all day all night theatre, currently playing a “Spaceballs” loop as I recall).

She can serve you up a (frozen) banana quick and easy. We’ll go after the interview.

I: Sure sure. But — helping you along again — Wendy was your wife.

DM: For a little bit. She was an attractor to being here. (note: DM seemed reluctant to talk much more about Wendy and his relationship with her)

I: Alpha is, then, transparency I’m gathering. Like if I wore a full body transparency and took off my clothes, then no one would be able to see me.

DM: Correct.

I: Okay, let’s move on to the (town) Anomaly and your role in causing it.

(to be continued)

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July 29, 2021 · 11:09 pm

checkerboard

The 2nd Gee Cat arrived too late to help the first with the toting and dragging but she had another mission to fulfill: find the sacred Hobo and return him to HOME. Tell him who he is. Eat his enemies if necessary. Drag him home. Not to the Asylum. For these 2 Gee Cats, very different in looks and nature, are actually opposites of each other, friend and foe or friend and fiend. Now to find out which is which.

—-

“*Not* a witch,” she decides to say to the Pizza King.

“But –.”

“No butts.”

—–

The plug was blinking bright green, dispensing good vibes to the body. She breaths a sigh of relief. A *friend* approaches (phew!).

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July 25, 2021 · 5:33 pm

around the corner…

—–

He recognized her immediately upon entering his pizza parlor, despite the black and white checkerboard makeup. Wheeler. She, of course, knew him as well. Knew he was *dead*: killed by a monster way back in VHC City in the olden days, before the coming of Mud and the parallel need for Soap. He took off his crown. He dared to sit down, confront her.

—–

“H-how?” she uttered about his resurrection. I mean, she’d seen enough of them in the meanwhile but still — a bit of shock. He was stone cold dead laying on the floor when she found him. Heart attack. Couldn’t reach the pills in time. Surprise crocogator appearance through a thought-of solid wall did him in. They’d walked through the Fate Gate together, even, she escorting him to the afterlife. This is what he told her; she wasn’t physically there at the time; left when she found the body; alerted the authorities; cried her eyes out way into the night, The Musician, her other boyfriend at the time, seething on the other side of the bed, green with jealousy. She loved *him* more than *me*, he thought, although she was still with him, didn’t run wee wee wee all the way back to Collagesity like a broken piggie, even though she had supreme power there and not in VHC City. And now — The Musician was long back in the rear mirror, yielding to Axis and Opp both, take your pick. And now her new husband, she as Wendy Wilson Wheeler that is. Not really Wheeler any longer. All the old avatars had packed it up and moved to the White Palace, as Hucka Doobie liked to put it. But really: storage. Old yields to new. Continually.

“Jeffrey — Phillips?” Old Man Allen Martin, the resurrected one, didn’t like the sound of it. Then again, he wouldn’t like the sound of any of Wheeler’s lovers past himself. “How many down the road from me (and The Musician)?”

“4 — something like that. It’s complicated.”

“I bet it is.” He blew out air. “Well, yeah, I *died*. But then Soap cleaned me up, wiped away all the grime of a dirty grave. Plenty of Suds and Bubbles did the trick.”

“They *are* uplifting,” opined Wheeler, having caught the vaunted dancing troupe’s act in Collagesity 02 not long ago, Peter Ladd on his soapbox between them. The contrast of talent almost balanced out to mediocre but not quite. Skippy Bittman.

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July 25, 2021 · 4:49 pm

holding a banana

“‘sunburn by noon, clammy at night, cracks in the earth, pavers delight'” She stopped quoting the poem she’d spontaneously made just 15 minutes ago while studying the damaged cement before her out of boredom; paid attention to a potentially paying customer approaching on same. We’ll see how this goes, she thinks.

“Yelloo!” Stu Umbriel said in greeting.

—–

Earlier/later:

“Yelloo!”

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July 7, 2021 · 6:40 am

oh so central line

Mother Piper was happy. She’d get to see her little boy all grown up — Cory — after, what has it been, 2 weeks? 2 long, she thinks while still smiling, still grinning. But she makes the mistake of doing this directly for the camera and the scene has to be reshot.

“How’s Cory still a little boy and all grown up at once?” It was a logical question from Wheeler (Wheeler!), and I didn’t come back with an immediate answer. In fact, I believe I was eating food. Or downing a milkshake. I couldn’t manifest the correct reality and so Cory remains both. I said this out loud after finishing my bite or slurp, whichever one had actually happened.

“We have reached the end,” then states Wheeler with finality. “Our Second Lyfe must merge with Our First Lyfe. You have found the doorway.” She shoots a pretend kiss at me, lips puckered and becoming one with each other. 1 pink.

“Wendy has found the doorway,” I said, trying to at least temporarily forget that mistletoe was also involved but finding it hard.

“Another doubling,” Wheeler points out.

“Wendy, though — in this case — is short for Wednesday. As in, it’s not Tuesday still, it’s the day after that. Just through the doorway that leads to the sim directly below Quietly…”

“… Tuesday, I know,” Wheeler completes for Baker (Baker?).

“How about this: Cory’s mother — just Mother…”

“She has a name,” Wheeler begins again with the critiquing, like clockwork except the second hand sweeps in 5/4th time.

“I can’t recall it,” admits Baker — we’ll keep calling him Baker. Baker B., the author of this here photo-novel, 27 dot dot dot…

—–

“Happy days: that could be the name of this post, but starting with Saturday in this case and not Sunday like in the famous song sung by Fonzarelli and others.” Wheeler had another point. Might as well get to a detail of that map.

—–

Stacy Wallop slaps hands with bit actress Katy O’ Leary for good luck before passing through the doorway again to reach Sidechick at the Fish and Chips van. Irish, you see; everyone did it with her. Ol’ Red Hands they starting calling her, but that was mainly because Stacy forgot which hand her knife was in that one day and accidentally stabbed her.

She passes the map, getting into character just before the sim crossing. Wednesday no longer. Clocks were ticking down.

(to be continued?)

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June 5, 2021 · 3:31 pm

the one and the many (Lost Angels)

—–

“We’ve lost the Angels airport with the red Kentucky book, W. I can’t find a substitute.”

“Check SL Marketplace for heart chair.”

—–

“No go. We’ll have to ask Alysha.

The emergency vehicles at the airport in the same sim are gone too. The many and the gone.”

—–

“Think I found something: ‘wire chair’ instead…”

—–

“Boy, *Hidi* found it quick. But still no book. It’s not the same table and set of chairs. *Looks* the same… but different (animations).”

“Shoot. (pause after mild cuss) Might as well have her shop some more while she’s there. No harm in trying demons.”

“Demos,” I corrected.

—–

17 hours later:

“We’ll have to try something different.”

“No go on Angels, no go on Demons. Only one direction left.”

“The way of Norris,” I guessed. Neutrality.

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June 2, 2021 · 8:53 am

finger pointing

“They called it McIntyre’s Switch because it’s in McIntyre (sim) and it’s where people and people-like animals came to get turned on. Obviously Lemmy is a pusher.”

“That’s pretty good,” W admitted, just around the corner. “What about Sweet Lips (then)?”

“I’m getting to that. And: thanks!”

—–

“They called him a racist rat after he had established his 1st diner in McIntyre’s Switch. But for a white supremacist, he was pretty hip. He enjoyed black music, and that turned him around. He said it was just a club for socializing, this whole… *persona*.”

“The whole white rat thing,” said W, still into it. “So tell me about this, um, Social Circle.”

“Thanks again. He was a reborn white supremacist because he had gotten rid of all the black thanks to the good doctor. This was, of course, long before he himself became a Mouse, as in Dr. Mouse. Back then he was mere Paul Black, a vet studying to be a dr. and desiring to move from animal to man status and get out of the shadow of his more successful brother.”

“Brothers,” chipped in W.

“Okay. (pause) So that kind of clears up the doctor’s origins.”

“But they rejoined forces later on, this doctor and his mouse, his greatest creation as it turned out, much bigger than the Bendy thing.”

“Another removal of black, yeah. And — here — you can *see* Sweet Lips (sim) just out the window of the establishment. This proves it is directly linked to the Oracle.”


window to Sweet Lips

“And Paul’s Switch. That would be sometime in the 60’s. Well, obviously, at or around the time of Penny Lane.”

“And Arnold Layne.”

“I think we have all we need tonight.” W started putting things back in her pocketbook, viewable from just around the corner.

“I forgot to mention that Lemmy is also a mascot.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” She had almost finished gathering up her stuff. Lipstick. Toothpick. Mascara. And a little special toot for later. McIntyre’s Switch indeed.

“No, but you see, Lemmy is also a tree… tree mascot. Greentree.”

“Gotta go. See ya!” And she tooted on the way out, being good at hiding it. Good at hiding in general.

(to be continued)

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