Tag Archives: Zoidboro^*

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The company put Jackson Bloch up in a shack over in Hambone, just across the sim line from Nevermore. Handy for work, but he had to live with rental furniture and decorations, which he usually hated. However, this place was different. All the decor that should have remained alien to him began becoming more familiar instead. Slowly, surely, he felt like this was home, not only the shack, but, perhaps even moreso, Hambone itself.

He’d heard of a local man named Pat who disappeared in the past that some say looked and acted like him. They didn’t say “slow” or “ugly” or “unkempt” to his face, but that’s the essence of what they meant. Maxine Cornbread, Howard Johnstone, and the rest. The Gossipers, they called themselves, and met at The Last Drop every Wednesday afternoon, sand storm or shine. Jackson Bloch was now part of their outer, extended circle. So was a new dude named Walt: Walter Westinghouse. Philip Tongue as well. The Tongue — fits right in with that nickname. Anyway, the similarity between Jackson and Pat — our Patrick Starr of course — has been brought up several times now by that group. Slowly, surely, the story of the Nevermore abductions will intertwined with those of Pat and Jackson. 1 plus 1 begins to add up to 3. As in an unexpected baby. If he hadn’t died in that killer shark attack 15 years back, imagine the relief Zoidboro would have experienced learning who the true father was. Aliens! “Should have known,” I can hear him say from the grave.

With his mind, Jackson removes several posters from the wall he suddenly finds unwanted and unnecessary.

He’s been doing such things all his life. That’s how he became involved in the ruin construction business. No one puts up ruins faster than him. Or tears them down if the reverse is needed. No one.

Jackson is indeed very blessed and very special.

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Filed under *Second Life, The Waste^^

Ruby Fantasie: savior

“It’s so beautiful Zoidboro. Just like you said. The trees would grow, the water would go. I’m ready to name my baby.”

“Jackson, then?” guessed Zoidboro, steeling himself for disappointment.

“No, a compromise. If our son is very special — say, can do 6 butterflies in a row…”

“What’s a butterfly?” queried his cephalopodic partner while watching yet another shooting star cross the sky.

“That’s right. You never went to dance school like me — sorry. It’s a cartwheel where your hands never touch the ground. Anyway if he can do 6 of those as opposed to, say, 4 or even 5, we will call him Jackson. Otherwise: Daniel. Danny will be a good boy, I’m sure, but not special. Jackson is reserved for Special.”

“Like Jack’s son.”

“Yes. I wish 100 times over that he is special, but we must love him equally either way.”

“Agreed,” Zoidboro quickly returned.

Patrick turned away from the sky and toward his partner, his ally. “And now, it’s time, to go, inside.”

—–

“I have found them! In the heart of the Pineapple Island. My intuitions are correct!”

“And across the street: another tiny car! This must be the controller.”

“I’ll go inside.”

—–

“Ahh. Should have guessed. Tessa.”

“Who are you??”

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Filed under *Second Life, End of Time^^, Hawaii

It’s a boy!

—–

Martha was both polite and curious. “Have you thought of a name yet, Mr. Zoidboro?”

“I’m thinking about Daniel. Or Danny.”

“Excellent. Like ‘The Shining’.”

“Oh… yeah.”

—–

“Danny, huh,” utters an exhausted Patrick, fresh from the Jacobian Hospital. The only hospital on this Pineapple Island, with over 100 beds. “I was thinking about Jack. Or Jackson.”

“Jack’s son?”

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Filed under *Second Life, End of Time^^

Jacob

“It’s perfect Patrick. We can raise our child here on retro Pineapple Island. We don’t need Eotia Village any longer. It’s just me and you, babe. I got you and all that.”

“What about the Oracle?” spoke Patrick, wiser than ever. The baby was coming!

“Oh, that thing. Discard it. Let it go. Tigers can be found anywhere. In the jungle. In the snow. Even in the desert or wasteland. We have our baby to think about now.”

—–

“Something’s not right, Zoidboro. There shouldn’t be a lake here. And the trees should be taller.”

“Nothing to worry about. Everything will adjust. Dog Island, the new one, is right over there.” Zoidboro indicates behind them, through the feed store and across the bay. “This is the new Murdock’s Island. Pineapple. The highway ends here.”

—–

“I think the trees *are* getting taller now.”

“And the water is beginning to evaporate. See? Everything will be fine.”

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Filed under *Second Life, End of Time^^

inn (Eotia Village)

“Amazing, Patrick my man. Man *wo*man. All I had to do was volunteer to preach at the local Broken Clock Church twice a week and we get wined and dined all we desire. Room and board too.”

“No – more – cave!” expressed Patrick, who hated to shiver. Doc said his baby was due any day. “Another glass of rosé?”

“Don’t mind if I do, sir. Don’t mind if I do.”

—–

“I don’t understand, Magnus Ellen. The observing truck is gone here at Crow Island. How do we keep up with the progression of Zoidboro and boy gal Patrick?”

“Something must have changed,” opined the wise Buddhist to his understudy. “Strands (of time) must have been altered.”

Sidechick Corea paced nervously on the wooden swing bridge. “What… now, then?”

“Back to Rosehaven. Back to the cave. There *must* be a portal, for we’ve seen Zoidboro also preaching in Rosehaven Serenity.”

“How many places *is* he preaching, sire?”

“Maybe he can’t stop saying, ‘Don’t mind if I do, sir. Don’t mind if I do.'”


Camouflage knows.

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Filed under *Second Life, End of Time^^

Serenity

If she sits in her compression chair too much longer, she may never get up.

So tightly wound around. Like a Mummy.

Only Monsieur’s visits brings her out of herself. Where *is* he??

—–

“I’ve been waiting and waiting for you, Hebert Gold.”

The full name, he thinks. She *was* upset. “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with the king. And then with the doll houses. We found Carrcassonnee inside. The one eyed entity that use to rule Collagesity. HF showed us.”

“But you were both Gold and Platinum inside Murdock’s Castle. Time was all mixed up. *Is* mixed up. You came too close to the truth.”

“Now I know. Fingerprince. I just had to find the second dollhouse to confirm it. And the second HF.”

“Are you going inside? Forever and ever and ever?”

“I’m not sure. What would you advise?”

She paused. “Maybe we should go to the Serenity Church. Perhaps the Reverend can help us.”

—–

“He’s *here*. Zoidboro is here.” Monsieur Gold was incredulous.

“Yes,” spoke Parasol below the tone of Zoidboro’s preaching. “It’s because of the Gold and Platinum mix-up. Zoidboro’s been here for years now. Yet he has just arrived. And then: he isn’t here yet. Some realities he was never born, never had a child by that strange mutant gal-guy Patrick Starr.”

“The drummer?”

“No, that’s Ingor.”

“Ingo?”

“No. *He’s* different.”

“My head hurts. I need to sit down.”

—–

So they sat down opposite Sally Spark O Naut — who had dutifully followed Zoidboro through the eyeball cave portal — and listened to the remainder of a beautiful sermon about the dangers of shark attacks. Afterwards, Herbert Gold’s head hurt considerably more.

In fact, I think he died there. Again.

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Filed under *Second Life, Rosehaven^^

church (Eotia Village)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sherwood_Anderson

Four[5] or five[6] years were spent in Caledonia, years which formed Anderson’s earliest memories. This period later inspired his semi-autobiographical novel Tar: A Midwest Childhood (1926).[7] In Caledonia Anderson’s father began drinking excessively, which led to financial difficulties, eventually causing the family to leave the town.[7]

“That’s an interesting story, Zoidboro. But I thought it was Caledon.”

Again with the smarts, Zoidboro ponders. What was it now, 8 1/2 months? 8 3/4ths? Better get to the caves asap. “Cale*don*ia,” he emphasizes to his pregnant male friend. “It would be Caledon if told from their perspective, but this is through the eyes of Rosehaven. The Princess ruler, to be specific. Soon to be Queen now that the father is dead. And the mother remains in her grave.”

“So…,” Patrick Starr tries to reason, “… Caledon, I mean, *Rosehaven* is way over here.” He moves his right hand far to the right. “And The Waste, *our* home, is way over here.” The left hand goes more left.

“But brought together by the Oracle,” states Zoidboro, shifting slightly on the bed to peer at the strangely colored 8 ball in the middle of the table to one side. “Tiger,” he completes, noting the residual “stripes”.

“I suppose.” Patrick retracts both hands, sits up, and holds his bloated stomach. “Oh, I felt a kick!”

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Filed under *Second Life, Caledonia^^, End of Time^^