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

Blue Feather meeting 01

“Thank ya’ll for coming, and I’m happy to see Wheeler here on time for a change, ha ha.”

“I ran all the way here from Picturetown. Didn’t want to miss this. Important!”

“Indeed it is,” responded Baker Bloch. “And also at the meeting we have Grassy Noll, who represents toys and non-human avatars in general. Hello Grassy!”

“Helllooo!”

“And I am representative of all males of a human variety and Wheeler here the females of same.”

“Hi Grassy!” Wheeler called over. She was indeed happy to be here. And indeed relieved she didn’t have to be in charge of it all any more. Sunklands Institute was fully away from Iris and the Heterocera continent now and fully integrated into NWES City here as the “orange piece”.

“I have some gifts for the temple!”

“Well, uh, that’s great, Grassy,” replied meeting organizer Baker Bloch, knowing this  wasn’t truly a temple but letting the error go between his legs, as they say locally. Good ol’ Grassy. Everyone liked Grassy! Except, of course, his Iris neighbor Roger Pine Ridge, who was, after all — deep down — the same. Oh, that reminds Baker Bloch of his announcement.

“Ahem, before you get to the gifts, Grassy. I’d like to also state that Curled Paper is officially a part of the table and not merely a prop, like, er, the Librarian over there. And, to go along with this, he has a new name: Gordie Down.”

“Hi!”

Wheeler turns to light bulb headed, Winesap reading Gordie Down beside her, formerly Curled Paper. “I thought you were a woman,” she states to him. “I thought he was a woman,” she states to Baker Bloch.

“Not any more. Anyway, it was never really determined.”

“I though it was,” Wheeler held steadfast.

“Nah, not that I recall.”

“*I* recall it. I count the women in this blog. I keep tabs on all that. My responsibility, or one of them, is equality through numbers. The blog holds steady at about a 3:2 ration of men over women avatars. We’d like to see it raised. Curled Paper here was one of ours, and now he’s one of *yours*. We ask for compensation.”

Was Wheeler threatening to *boy*cott the meeting if she didn’t get a female replacement for Curled Paper, now Gordie Down? He decides to back *down*. “Alright, okay. Gordie can be a woman still. We’ll pick her out some apples later on.”

“Oranges. We like to call them oranges now.” Baker Bloch knew that Wheeler was joking now. Orange was reserved for something else.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0023, 0205, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, NWES Island

on the run 02

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0023, 0204, Canada/Picturetown, Google Street View

on the run

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0023, 0119, Canada/Picturetown, Google Street View

wedding 03

Weddings at St. Mary’s traditionally took place after the Munday sermon so Preacher Stephan had to sacrifice a Renaldo O’Donnell clown first to appease the Gods. Tradition as well.

“Oops, that was a real squirter Pitch, ha.” The Darklys excused themselves to go home and wash clothes.

Afterwards church officials found the sacrificial altar was too heavy to move, so they made do with a cheap wedding booth found buried in a pile of junk at the back of the annex. Toothpick and Elberta then said their “I do’s” to Preacher Ziegler, since Preacher Stephan, a Northerner, refused to acknowledge the Deep South tradition of marrying siblings as kosher.

At the reception, Marty sang one of his beautiful love ditties to Saffie sitting with Toothpick, Elberta and best man Zapppa, hoping to get a better rental unit out of it.

Time to cut the cake. Big Wanda becomes annoyed about the orange butterflies that keep flying off her head in the excitement and leaves the task solely to Toothpick.

As feared, Her Majesty the local bigfoot/yeti came up from the new hole behind St. Mary’s to pay her respects to the newlyweds but was surprisingly controlled by the Corona-V pirates and ended up not eating anyone.

Lastly: group picture. Everyone had a laugh about all the innuendos.

And that’s it! Log another Collagesity or Sunklands photo-novel in the books.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0705, Apple's Orchard, Black Ice, Church of Ood, NWES Island

00220701

Mercury X. Rising’s still down there, heh. Waiting for Wheeler. He’s certainly in love with his car.

Man About Time — MAT — turns. “And what about you my friend. My best friend. Are you ready to really turn over this time?”

—–

MAT phoned up Toothpick. “The wedding will have to be called off. I can’t get Wheeler, I mean, Carrcassonnee to start.” Toothpick begins to sob profusely. MAT reconsiders. “There *is* one other option. We have the beginning of a new town suburb, one that might seal the deal and make 90 into 100. Are you ready to take that chance, make the leap across a small but not insignificant gap?” Toothpick stopped crying, wiped his eyes, blew his nose. “Sure,” he was finally able to speak. “But what?”

“St. Mary’s. Just behind the Bigfoot Bar, or what use to be that bar. Moe’s I think it is called now. In fact, I own it. I own the church. I own the land bridging the church with the bar with the gallery with the apartment. I own it all. Your wedding to Elberta would help seal the deal. In fact, I think I’ll invite a good friend of mine who happens to be a grey seal. Can you find it? Just behind the Bigfoot Bar. Quickly, before he turns into a snow covered Yeti and we’re all in danger. Can you handle it?”

—–

Toothpick rings up Elberta. “We must get to 245,” he spoke without emotion, trying to complete…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0701, Marwood, NWES Island

00220616

Barry DeBoy stares at the blank canvas he knows he must fill in soon. CITY, a concept that must be born if the city itself is to be saved. Almost a 90 percent chance of it now. He’ll take the odds.

He pinches himself to make sure he’s awake (he is). Wearing the red tie has made him nervous about that down through the months — before, he was always dreaming when he had it on. No more. Something happened: a reversal, a change of heart even, he senses. Miss Graham has given it back. But why?

“It was me,” Hucka Doobie spoke at a nearby table. “Come on into the picture. PICT ON PICT. Come on,” she urged.

“What’s he doing?”

“She. But that’s what we have to find out. Temple.”

“Wheeler. Of course.”

“Yes.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0616, Canada/Picturetown, Google Street View, HANA LEI

revealing

It was all so very funny, Supper Man and his new arch-nemesis Toothpick battling it out for the right to marry Dinner Girl and/or Elberta first. Because their fists and, occasionally, feet kept passing through each other. Neither was real. Onlooking Barry DeBoy determined it was a dream a while back because he was wearing the red tie. In reality he didn’t possess this tie any more — gave it to Miss Graham the schoolteacher in exchange for… what? A life without the 5 looking on. A life without Pan-Z. He felt the precious tie one last time before waking up, instead holding the air in front of his chest as it vanished into nothingness again. The Great Void. Blackness. “Yippy tie one on I suppose,” he tried to humor himself in the moment, but he’d also heard the word “tile” used in that expression recently over at the temple. Funny again. “Yippy tile one on” — made sense as well.

He rolls over. Helloo, who’s this?


Dreaming still. Wake up, wake up! But he didn’t want to suddenly. Wendy wakes up instead, tells him who he is. Not “Q”, because that’s already been covered. The symbol on the hat could pass for a “Q” but he didn’t want it to now, not for Wendy.

—–

“Annnnnnd CUT! That was great guys! But — Wendy. We need to get you out of *that* dress and into the blood stained one as soon as possible! The Twins are breathing down my back, bearing down on my neck! You need to be invisible down there.”

Wendy knew what he was talking about but didn’t care. Wasn’t she Miss Graham reincarnated? She was. Didn’t she give Hucka Doobie the red tie procured from Barry DeBoy in a similar way before and send her away? She most assuredly did. Baker and she were getting too close. “Barry, *you* are Baker,” she said earlier. “You are the artist that is going to paint CITY and save us all from suburbia.” He turned it over in his mind like a rubik’s cube and saw the truth in it. Better get back to work…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0601, Black Ice, NWES Island

Temple tales 01

Harry stares outside the picture at the Earth and sees it is good. What an oddball.

On the same floor, Baker Bloch bangs out the entire organ version of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” before raising his hands from the keyboard and realizing he can’t play. That was vampire alter ego Pitch Darkly’s talent, who hasn’t been seen in a number of photo-novels. I lose count. 18 — that’s it. Or was it 12?

Ahh, *there* he is. It was Pitch all along — should’ve know. Just had to turn the camera the other way. The lack of a reflection in the organ’s strangely placed mirror should have tipped me off. Along with, of course, the deft keyboard fingering.

“Play that other Russian ‘sky’ composer I love so much,” listening wife Mary Tyler requests. She wanted Moore. And Pitch complies by belting forth “The Rite of Spring” to her great pleasure, although early on she was knocked off her perch on the organ by the heavy vibrations. Good vibrations, though, and Mary still grooved to them while laying on the floor.

She took the opportunity to also stare at the static filled tv placed nearby she was edging closer to with each crashing chord — temple must have been tilted a bit in that direction — and fell into a trance, dreaming about a trip to the Beach. Except it was The Beech. Here we come!

Upstairs:

“Iiiiii… Iiiiiii…”

“Almost got it,” Carrcassonnee adjusting MAT (Man About Time) declares hopefully but perhaps also futilely. We’ll see soon enough.

Excuse me. I have to contact someone.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0316, Marwood, NWES Island

L$2989?

The blue eye is closed on the Moth Man as he stares out at Bottle Mound on Fishers Island. Interesting. Noting.

On to Wallytown proper to view the bell shaped rise with the crashed UFO beside it on the beach from a different angle, as it turned out.

“He won’t get off my car, Mr. Z,” complained Zapppa’s seated brother-cousin Zipppy, a well thought of Wallytown mechanic in its California half. Nevada beyond the wall is a different story, where he’s wanted for at least 3 criminal acts: grand larceny, manslaughter, murder even. “Screams he’s in love with it and wants to speak to someone named Wheeler about buying; thinks he can get a good deal that way. Thanks for coming by and helping me. It’s kind of an antique you know. It’ll cost him X amount of dollars. Could he just be talking about buying the wheels off this jalopy? And since it’s split in two pieces currently to make a novelty couch, we’d have to charge mucho extra to put it back together. Could he be… insane? Mad?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” replied Zapppa, who was indeed Mr. Z but not the one we’ve already met. Better resist call him that from now on. And we’ve already also run across someone with the tag of “Mad”. Best not to use that again as well. Let’s just go with Mercury. Mercury X. Mr. X. Because that’s what they’ll have to charge him. And let’s similarly name Zipppy Mr. Y. Although this is probably a one-off for him in this here photo-novel; we’ll stick with Zipppy, then. And Mercury X. Mercury X. Rising, let’s say, with the X silent. Like the original Star Wars movie from 1898.

They end up just deciding to give the car away for basically free. Madness. All four of ’em: W mixed in with the other three now and turning them all back into letters, shall we put it.

Wheeler (Ms. W) then returned to her well placed friends at the Annapolis MD consignment shop we saw toward the end of photo-novel 20. She had no need for money with besties like that.

Dorothy inside promptly wrote W a check for X amount of linden dollars to make up for Y and Z’s loss.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0313, Wallytown/Fishers Island

Consignment (split the difference)

“We’ll figure it out, Axis, er, Tropp. Umm.” He was truly stuck in the middle and 1/2 and 1/2 (sorry!).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0022, 0214, HANA LEI