Tag Archives: Wheeler Wilson^^++\@

head gap

“Look Allen Y. Dolphins doing tricks (!). Marvelous.”

On a different part of the pier, Allen Y. remained disappointed.

“Why are we *here*? And not there or there?” He pointed southwest and northeast respectively here.

“I told you. We have to move to the center for perspective because we’re in the center of Part 4 of the new Collagesity novel, Allen Y. This is Grey Havens, and, as I checked, certainly a haven from the grey, corner sims we’ve been focused on so far: MISTY MO and Gulf of Loon. Look at your inworld map and you’ll see.”

“I’m tired of seeing,” he spoke plainly. “Everything is too clear to me now. I’ve seen the writing on the bottom.”

“Oh come on,” encouraged Jennifer M. Friend, still squinting at the receding dolphins while thinking of the 2 hearts as one dealie he reviewed earlier. Not going to happen here. But the Chee Chee…

He thought back. “I see one heart over here, and then another smaller heart over there.” He pointed to the gap. “Can this be filled?” But she was facing the other way and could not see. The Black Lake obscures. A little later he decided earrings at the Calas market would send a correct message. To add to the roses; he couldn’t help himself.

“I simply love the flowers… and the earrings, Allen Y.,” delivered Jennifer M. Friend in resonance with his thoughts.  “One over here and the other over there.” She thought of each ear respectively. “Just like I like them.”

“So you’ve said.” He sighs again.

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Hell

Click to access black-clear_lake_mp-a_2013.pdf

1933 -Black-Clear Lake was formed by the construction of the Allen Dam across Saline Bayou downstream of its confluence with Black Bayou. Prior to that time, there existed a chain of three swampy areas known as Black Lake, Clear Lake and the Prairie. The Allen Dam inundated all three of these areas and formed what is now Black-Clear Lake, known locally as Black Lake. Construction of the Allen Dam also created Saline Lake and water levels in both lakes were regulated in unison….

1959 -The Chee Chee Dam was constructed and served to separate Saline Lake from Black-Clear Lake.

1981 –The Allen Dam failed and was washed away

“I will not fail in my mission,” thought Allen Y., at a Calas flower kiosk with a just purchased bouquet of fresh and lovely purple roses. “I *will* win her heart.”

—–

“He will fail,” spoke observing Baker Bloch back at the Blue Feather Table.

“Yes,” answered Wheeler beside him. “The water obscures, the water clears. Bottom-writing is revealed. All demos down there.”

“Demons,” spoke Baker Bloch. “You forgot the ‘n’.”

“I didn’t forget nothing,” retorts the co-ruler of Collagesity. She settles back in her chair, pulls out some chew and sticks it in her mouth. “But first a little Chee Chee,” she delivered from an open, masticating void.

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redtop

“So tell me about this Treelor of yours,” Allen Y. requested, a bit of bitterness mixed in with his phrasing.

“He’s nice,” Jennifer M. Friend responded with her usual, confident voice. “He’s innocent. He’s… Tropp, actually. I always forget that too. *I’m* Treelor.” She pauses a beat. “In another life.”

Silence for a spell. They look over at the pirate ship, looming huge before the horizon. The glare of Allen’s facelight was bothering Jennifer. She politely asked him to turn it off. Or down.

“I don’t know how to turn it down. I’ll just detach it.” Now he can’t see her beautiful face as clearly, he thought. Oh well, the setting sun casts it in a different, if less visible light. All angles and shades are good for her. I believe I’m falling in love. He was preparing to give her flowers. One of a line of gifts stretching into the future he has in mind. Leading to…

“Tropp’s great, really,” spoke Jennifer again, breaking the spell.

Tropp, sulked Allen Y. He must be eliminated. But they seem to have quite a long history together now.

He’s heard of… assimilations. Maybe that will be the ticket.

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on the wall

“Watcha checking out on those interwebs little lady?”

“A car,” Wheeler/Jennifer stated plainly. “I’m going to buy one when I get back.”

“Back from where?” asked puzzled Norm, a local resident. “I know of the Before and the After. But there is no Other. There is only Here.”

Great, another MISTY MO religious nut, Jennifer thought. “My home is in Collagesity. On the Atoll continent. Heterocera. Surely you know your continents. Did you not take geography in the schools you went to?” She looked over at him, noticed the rivets in his forehead, his hands. Mechanoid, ahh. That could explain it. He is programmed to know no other place but here.

“I took high school in geography. Does that count?”

Wheeler Jennifer pondered what could be a riddle. Story within story again. “Maybe,” she decided to answer.

He continued his information. “Before is the establishment of Fairview Alpha. Sometimes it is called the Big Mess. Too messy. Water everywhere. So many trees and plants and bushes. Clutter, if you will. After is Fairview and Alpha separate, as they should be. One in one place and the other in another. This is also known as the Plane of Martin and the Plain o’ Allen. Fairview is a fair view of the world, as it is, plain and uncluttered. The great bird flies in the sky but always lands here. Here is here. There is no Other, except for the Abyss.”

Jennifer took in the strange, new information. She shut the laptop, put away the visions of a speedy, glossy auto for now to concentrate. “I came here on a plane,” she said, thinking back to the one that landed on the edge of the Rubi Woods, the plane specifically sent by MISTY MO Inc. to take her to their homeland. Far far away from mainland madness, one flight attendant said of it. Brainwashed, she concluded. They’re all brainwashed into thinking this MISTY MO is somehow separate from the rest of Our Second Lyfe. Better, she concluded. Much better — some place *new*. Could this be?… no, she must put away thoughts of ever finding Ultima Thule. She spent the better part of her 20s and 30s looking into that black hole of an idea. The idea that she could purge herself of her demonic origins, pheh. No such luck. But still, there was the recent vision of the Demo Lake. She decided to ask about it — maybe Norm would know something. But in a roundabout way…

“Plane of Martin — that’s the plane.”

“Yes,” stated Norm. The sun was setting, the glints on his metal constituents fading. Was it safe here with this mechanoid being, Jennifer thought? She decided it was. The lodge brochure said no crime had ever been committed in modern MISTY MO. At least after the wide scale manufacturing of clothes.

“And this… Plain of Allen.”

“Plain *o’* Allen,” Norm clarified, pointing at Jennifer at the same time. “Like a possum.”

Hmm, Jennifer thought. I think his name might be Bob instead.

“What did you say your name was?” she tested. “Norm, right?”

Norm didn’t answer directly. “We better get you back to your lodge and me back to my lake. The night is full of owls and beaks that speaks. The Abyss returns.”

“Lake? You live in a lake?”

“Next to a lake,” Norm answered.

Jennifer didn’t have to ask *its* name. She knew it was Black. Where the demons lived.

—–

Jennifer woke up, the sound of falling water swiftly returned. Midday. No Norm, no nobody. She had fallen asleep while daydreaming of fast, shiny objects. But the dream was like reality. She then realized there were much fewer trees and undergrowth in the “place” she had just been with Norm… Bob, Norm. And no water. *Was* it a dream?

She opened the laptop again and set the screen on mirror, held it up to her face, noted the DEMO stigmata again on her own forehead. 7610: DEMO.

Yes, it was a dream. A *reflection*.

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Continuing…

She knows she saw it. The sea had DEMO written all over it, like it was mocking her very existence.

But she can’t seem to recreate the vision.

—–

Wait: there it is.

—–

Is that woman nude over there? The owners said: no nudity. And… well, where is perpetual birthday boy Tropp? It’s not Allen Y. obviously. That’s Pine Ridge. The bastard. Going rogue on Baker and me and creating his own batch of lousy characters. Dollie — what the heck? And a *frog*? I’ve seen *him* before: Middletown, where he was called Brazilian Bill. I assume soon enough a puny, sickly apple tree will show up sprouting off some craggy rock or such. “Make it so,” Treelor Tropp might say, and it would be. Why… do I keep writing thinking Treelor instead of Tropp? Another 2-n-1? 2 Hearts in One. The glue? She better get back to the lodge. Of course she’s not going to report *these* 2. It’s going to happen here. The rule is more a suggestion, perhaps, as long as you do it in a harmless, non-graphic way.

Now back to looking for a nice car for when I get back.

—–

When she looked up again the couple were gone. In their place, Allen Y. and Archibald Duke sat around a nearby campfire. Dollie and Piper are probably luring somewhere nearby, Jennifer rationalized, hidden by the tall grass or something. Looks like the lodge came to me. Better go see what they’re up to. I suppose. Or… she could just walk the other way. She eyes the exit route. Nah, too easy to spot — can’t get away with it. So it’s be *friendly*, true to my name. A last name I might share with Allen Y. someday. If he’s so inclined. Could be an interesting story. Story within a story.

——

“S’up guys?” She spots Dollie hidden in the nearby grass. “And gal.”

—–

“Did you know Johnny Appleseed supposedly planted his *last* apple tree right here in these mountains.” Allen Y. pointed back in the direction they came. “Said so in the lodge brochure. Probably really old and shriveled by this point, wouldn’t you guess. Let’s go take a look.”

Jennifer looked west. *Knew* it, she thought.

The mists move in…

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yellow me

We follow a logical pattern. She was not ill any longer, just thinking while peering out the window at the beautiful landscape. Trees. Flowers. But not much mist yet, for the name. And what was *her* name while she was here? Misty is an obvious choice. But Allen Y. seemed to indicate Jennifer. Jennifer M. Friend. From the Occident. Can I be *2* stone here? 2 stone in one bird?

—–

She kept reading her book, trying to seem only 1/2 interested. She was more than that. “Um hum,” she nodded while turning a page. “Fascinating.”

I didn’t say anything fascinating, thought Allen Y. to himself. I was just reading off the lunch menu from that bulletin board over there. Is she even *listening* to me? But what a beauty, a lovely beauty (1/2 and 1/2). Laurie was her name. Wait, that was Piper’s wife. He would have to sneak it out of her. He spoke louder to be heard better. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better, Mrs…. Ms….” he urged again.

Wheeler feigned shaking off a daydream, probably involving a plotline in the book she pretented to read. She was also prepared to make up a story about the story if needed. Frogs to princes. “What was that?”

Allen Y. decided to admit he couldn’t remember her name. “Oh,” she said, trying to be put off a bit. What *was* her name here? Misty? No: too obvious. She’d go with Jennifer. She said the name aloud, adding the middle initial and last name on a second go.

“Ah yes. Now I remember. A lovely and beautiful name, Jennifer.”

“Thank you.” She was truly pleased he liked it. *She* liked it. Maybe they could be friends here in this small backwater of virtual reality. MISTY MO.

More than Friends. *Friends*.

—–

It was time to go out there.

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another

“Why don’t you and Tropp get away from it all. Make a sort of vacation out of it. Another 2 stone with one bird situation. You keep an eye on Pine Ridge and his *unsanctioned* new gang at MISTY MO and at the same time further your own storyline. We can book you in the same lodge with the rest of ’em.”

Wheeler Wilson pondered what Baker Bloch was offering here at the Table.  She’d just explained how Tropp and she were now banned from Braynard’s Place where he was, in effect, born into this world in present form, boy to man style. But he admitted to her it was worth it. Yes it was.

Golden Sphere.

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bird

“Glue, huh Wheeler?”

“I think I’m looking right at it.”

—–

“What now?”

“We take away their toys. We give them furniture. They’re grown up now. Here, I’ll show you.”

—–

“Where’d you go?”

“I had the wrong group tag activated. Had to log out and back in to get the furniture back, pheh. So hold on *now*.”

—–

“Well look at that, Wheeler. Took right to them (!).

Marvelous creations. But…”

“I know, I know. The last collage points right to this moment. Where one must put away their toys and become a man — or woman. Loss of innocence.”

“But is that a *good* thing?”

—–

“We must admit the existence of Mossmen at the least,” spoke wise Hucka Doobie at the Blue Feather Table. “But I’m with Wheeler about Gene Fade. Fade may be just representative of the Mossmen as a whole.”

“But there’s Grassy Noll’s memories,” countered Baker Bloch.

“Ahh. We must question that as well.”

Baker emits air. “Bring him in, then.”

—–

“First off, Grassy, we had some issues with your core avatar. Are you petersoso or edwardston? The latter would be more logical. Than just, er, sponging off Roger Pine Ridge(‘s core).”

“I’ll work on it. Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay.” Baker Bloch looked over at Wheeler, at Hucka Doobie. “Well?”

—–

“And that’s how we learned the truth, Baker Blinker. That Grassy is a direct conduit between Our Second Life and the Toy Kingdom. Which we kind of knew all along I suppose. Two in one.”

“Why are you telling me this? You know it can’t bring me back.”

“I just don’t want to loose touch with you. And I thought you needed to know. Another two in one.”

The female Baker wipes crumbs from her jeans. “Karoz and I plan to remain in Chilbo, despite the loss of the Oracle. We will fade into the distance.”

“I hate that that will happen.”

“How’s your job going?”

“Well.”

Baker Blinker looks down. “I prefer Collagesity eggs to the Bennington experiments.”

“Suit yourself. Each are good to me in their own way. Finish your breakfast and then we’ll go take a look at Artist Alley. I want your opinion on some things.”

—–

“Fal Mouth Moon. Black — Pitch, on one corner, and White — Woody, on another. This must be the same as the Jeogerock, which is the same as Grey Rock. Grey Rock and topping Seal Stone in one. All of this is about the toys, really, and Frank and Herman Parks. How the Mossmen and Mmmmmm’s interact. How the marbles figure into all this. It’s all heading back to reality. From fantasy.”

“Pick me up with your strong, muscular arms, Baker Bloch,” Baker Blinker then requested. “You’ll see how much this is reality.”

“That was harder easier than I thought it would be. Remarkably light.”

“Two stone,” Baker Blinker projected, then lept down.

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room

“So this is where it all ends for us.”

“I don’t know,” spoke Tropp honestly. Opp. Or, I suppose, Septimius Felton in this garb.

Wheeler Misty puts both hands under her chin; speaks more earnestly.

“Did you hear there’s a rumor going around that I’m Karoz’s mother? Did you hear that?”

“Honestly…”

“Well it’s true.”

Septimius wondered if she meant the mother part was true or the rumor part, but didn’t ask for clarification. “What next?” he said instead.

“We stay here. In Heterocera. Karoz Blogger and Baker Blinker have returned to their home of Chilbo. *Their* true home. This is ours. We *are* Chilbo in many ways. Er, Heterocera I meant there.”

“Of course.” He looked away and then back. “I’d like to be Giant for a Day again.”

“Black hole, yes.” Misty sighed. “We’re playing around with that. Actually, playing *around* that. Dangerous game. Like wrestling.”

“Yes, I’m tired of wrestling.”

“Tired of me beating you to a pulp all the time.” Misty cackles.

“We are not evil.”

“That’s exactly what I told Baker Bloch the other day. We are not evil. We are like everyone else. All the core avatars. We are representations of the whole. Like white light separated out into the rainbow colors. Each has its place.”

“Each,” Septimius echoed.

Misty looked at her ruby red nails. “We should return to Philo. Maybe get another set of clothes.”

“I think that you maybe might have enough.” Septimius then broke a smile. Both laughed.

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catchup

“It all seems to be focusing on Heterocera, Baker Bloch. Me in the swamp lands — I would *prefer * to live here in Collagesity, but it is what it is. Then Wheeler’s own explorations.”

“She’s found a gym.”

“Gem of a gym,” replies Roger Pine Ridge, puffing on a Chesterfield tonight. The rainbow brings confusion but white light heals. White stick light. “That might keep her busy for a while.”

“Then Grassy… what’s the report on him?”

“Good and decent fellow, obviously. We’ll (re)visit Iris soon.”

“The Moth Temple Village. Good. Which you live on the very outskirts of anyway.”

“He’s still looking for the reds and yellows. Probably to shoot or kill them.”

“Wheeler can help in that way,” Baker then says. “And his cousin?”

“He hasn’t spoken of Opp since my move. He goes on and on about the TILE river or creek or whatever it is. Jonesborough Compound: he says that’s where it all started. Cave of the Alphabet. The eternal search for AlmaNoz.”

“Good topic,” replies Baker. “Karoz: Did he find his ‘N’ yet?”

But Roger Pine Ridge didn’t know neither. Better bring in another.

—–

“Karoz… we’re just reviewing what’s going on in the novel so far. How’s Dennis? Is that where you still are? Lemme check.”

—–

“Why don’t you put up a meaningful picture on your media feed here. For the blog.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Dennis.” Pause. “Where I’m not.”

“Well maybe we should go there to meet instead.”

Karoz Blogger looked around. “Where’s Wheeler tonight? This isn’t an official Table meeting without Wheeler.”

“She found a gym,” Baker Bloch explained again to a second core avatar tonight.

“Guess Tropp or Opp is with her, then.”

“Guess so.”

“Well… good.” Karoz looks down at his hands, then back up. “It failed of course. The assimilation. Baker Blinker has gone back to Chilbo. I suppose I’ll have to follow.”

“Well… for one shining moment…”

“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted the cyan being, half moss as we know now. The other half remains hidden in mist still. Baker then had an idea.

“How’s Misty doing?”

“Who?”

—–

“He didn’t know who Misty was, Hucka Doobie. I tried.”

“You think that’s his *mother*?”

—–

“Let’s review what we know, Hucka Doobie. We know that everything seems to be focusing on Heterocera, which is now equated with a big hand.”

“An *upside-down* hand,” Hucka Doobie clarified. “The Hand of Opp.”

“Right. There’s now a Heart Line to go along with the Head Line, which I didn’t know was a Head Line until I found the Heart.”

“Art’s on the Heart.”

“Right. Former neighbor. Like Veyot. On the edge. Just digging the Collagesity vibe.”

“It does have a good vibe,” articulated Hucka Doobie. “But now it only has the woods. Art will be the last neighbor you will have in Our Second Lyfe. Unless you count Ruby Heartbright.”

“I’m checking now, Hucka Doobie.” Pause of about 30 seconds while Baker Bloch remotely scans the borders of Collagesity. “Yes, I see she is the only landowner whose property borders Collagesity. But: no relation to the Rubi Woods to the west?”

“There has to be,” Hucka Doobie says without hesitation. “You know this person after all.”

Met her once. She’s owned land around the woods before. Just like me. I can’t remember specifics.”

Hucka Doobie thinks that Baker Bloch should write down information like this but doesn’t say it aloud. “And fair Ruby herself? Haven’t seen her around since I rode back into town on a horse with no name.”

“We’re talking about my character, also named Ruby,” Baker clarifies more for the reader. “She seems to have taken the lead female role from everyone else except for Wheeler. But of course now we know Ruby *is* Wheeler. Because of all the splits she’s effected.”

“Ruby Fantasie most recently. You should follow what’s she’s up to in Rosehaven. Shaking things up, I bet.”

“Three ‘Rubys’, then. The neighbor, the woods, the… can we call her queen? Is Wheeler still queen? Heck we better bring her in. Thanks for stopping by, Hucka.”

“Back to the Red Umbrella for me. I found a way into Stonethwaite.”

“You did?”

“But a topic for another night.”

“So long, then.”

—–

“Put up the Aotearoa picture on the interwebs, Baker Bloch. I can’t seem to work the darn thing again tonight.”

“I’ll make a quick post with the 2 pictures.” Pause of about 2 minutes while Baker sets up the post. He displays it…

“Top hit for an image search ‘N to Z’, Wheeler Wilson. Transparent images, that is.”

“Which you like to do now as I understand.”

“This is AlmaNoz related. Jeogeorock related. Whitehead Crossing. Spill what you know.”

“I’m not really the person (core avatar) for that. Spongeberg,” Wheeler declared. “Spongeberg’s the one. He lives there after all.”

“I forgot. In the teepee.” He removes his finger from his lip. “Well, we might have time to bring him in after this. Friday night after all. A little more time; a little less pressure to get up.”

“During the day, you have to figure out something else to do. I’m *enjoying* the day. But… this can’t keep up.” Wheeler looks at him directly. “Thank you, though, for allowing me time to find my gym. That was helpful. Tropp is thankful too. We are not evil.”

“I know that.”

“We are another aspect of Heterocera now, part of its continuing storylines. Three ‘Rubys’. Collagesity moves onward and upward within that triangle. Scarlet.”

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