Collagesity 2019 Early 06


new

There’s someone fairer, e’en got more art
So rest in pieces, ’cause you’s got to depart
I’ll miss you more than you can ‘magine
I’ll miss the woods
I’ll miss my home

—–

I see’s it!

A way out.

—–

Not stuck any more.


future past

She kept holding her head and twiddling her feet. “I’ve been here all along, I’ve been here all along, I’ve been here all *alone*.”


town City >

I’ve got to text Baker to come find me and get me. But what year is it? 2020? 1920? If the latter, then Septimius might be of aid. If the former, then Baker alone.

She looks down at her spacesuit like garb; realizes it has to be the former.

Unless we had children, she ponders further. Grandchildren. She searches for Wallytown + Septimius. Name is probably archaic but it’s worth a try.

She studies the search results. No Septimius. On a hunch, she tries Seppy. No luck again. Then Sep. Sep Felton. Ah ha. 8 hits down. Sep Felton. 125 Wall Lane. Number: 882-226-4371. She dials through her notebook.

“Hello?” Female voice — Wheeler was thinking male.

“Hi. Is this Sep? Sep Felton?”

“Yes?”

Wheeler decides what to say. “I’ve been looking up possible relatives in the area. My name is Felton as well. By marriage.”

“Well, that’s interesting. I only know of 1 other Felton, and he’s over in Meat City. Runs a small packing industry. No relation, though.” The voice was pleasant, inviting.

“I was wondering… could we meet sometime today? Or tomorrow perhaps? I’m only in town the two days. Today would be preferable.” Wheeler was thinking: it better be today. I’m ready to get the heck out of Dodge!

“I get off work at 5. How about 6? Bar Lemon is a popular place to meet. Dancers there as well. We can chat before the entertainment. Molly, one of the dancers, is a good friend of mine. She can get us a good deal on drinks.”

How strange, thought Wheeler. Of all the places. Does she know as well?? “Swell,” she answered. “See you in a couple of hours.”

“Thanks. It will be nice to compare family trees. See if we’re actually related. Perhaps you’re instead related to Sven over in Meat City. Or perhaps — I’ve often wondered this too — there’s a missing link between the 2 Feltons. We would be so isolated otherwise. Perhaps we can figure it out together. That would be nifty.”

A little chatty, thought Wheeler. But otherwise: quite nice. Pleasant — that’s important. No nasal in her voice. “Super. I’d like to see the dancers.” It was a hobby of Wheeler’s as well. So many dances in the world. So many more to learn.

“That’s wonderful. I’m a dancer too, but not professionally like Molly. Just amateur stuff.”

Queer again, thought Wheeler. Just like me once more. But enough talk for now. “Goodbye. I’m looking forward to it.” She touches the phone symbol on the notebook, making it turn from green to red. Disconnected. But later, perhaps connected in a much more meaningful and deeper way. Love.


void

I can’t do it. I can’t buy the 0 cube for 0 dollars, despite the hover text indicating otherwise. The Heart Line has failed me. Art, really, has failed me. Art and Heart together. I have been here all alone.

Better get to Wallytown, then. Meet my future Love.


Eve

How could you have Dark *Lemon* Eyes. What’s *happening*?

“I’ll tell you soon enough,” replied Sep Felton, finally ready for her transfer over to Wallytown.


perpetual Xmas

Funny how I asked that girl what she wanted and she said veins and arteries.

Hope she’s happy.

—–

Occident to Orient, yes.

Bar in Another World to Bar Lemon. Let’s see if Wheeler, ahem, Misty is here yet.

—–

No, that’s just me. Talking to Batty Man. What a loon! Also introduced me to his pal Superduper Guy. Both jerks to the nth degree. Although Batty Man saved some face by talking about his cats for 2 sentences. I turned to Superduper: You have any cats? He didn’t even know what one was. Is that one of those scrunched up dogs? he replied. So that was the end of him. Batty Man still has a chance. Of course I can swing both ways. Hehe, *Felton* might be convenient. Neither of us would even have to change names if it went that far. Which it won’t, of course.

I didn’t use to be this way, she then pondered. Too close to Lemon here. Lemony Past. It is powerful.

Misty/Wheeler walked in the bar.

“Oh hey. Rescuing me from *these* two chumps you are.” She stood up.

“Hi. You must be Seppy — Sep.”

“I am in the flesh. With my dark lemon peepers along with me.” What kind of joke was that? she asked herself. But: appropriate to point out at this moment. She gauged Misty’s reaction. She kind of looked around the bar without replying. “I like your hair,” I said to bridge the pause. “We have the same taste in color and style.”

“We do?” I replied from the other side. I looked down at my glove covered hands, the Edwardian Dress, looked up at the brim of my bowed hat. Took it off, even. Peered all around it, examining every corner.

“You okay?” the Felton opposite me asked. “You look a little… discombobulated. Said you were from out of town. Is that out of town Occident or out of town Orient? There’s a difference.”

“I know there is,” replied Misty/Wheeler matter-of-factly. “I… I don’t know what year it is,” she admitted, looking at the hat in her hands again. “Space is not currently my problem. It’s *time*.”

“Ahh, I see.” Sep glanced back down at Batty Man to the right, Superduper Guy to the left. Both were nodding. “You’ve been lemoned,” she said to begin an explanation.

Batty Man and Superduper Guy instantly changed places with each other.


bar none

They stood there for a while, just staring at each other. The 2 “heroes” had gone elsewhere. It was only the girls now.

Already in costume, Molly Lustrous walked into the bar and took her customary violet latex seat at the base of the stage. Queen of The Dance at night. But by day?: humble, naive Natali Woodhull, counter attendant at a rival bar in town on the other side of the wall. The California part as opposed to this dry, desert Nevada (according to California).

“15 minutes late,” bar owner Natsu Lemon called from in back. “That’ll be taken off your wages.”

“You don’t *pay* me enough to show up on time,” Molly replied in a rough hewed voice, showing both age and wisdom. “I make my real money from my *customers*, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the owner replied sardonically. They often played these roles before the dancing commenced. Where Molly showed her *real* value. Yes, Missus Lemon would certainly pay Molly more if she knew she would quit. But she also knew that Molly loved doing her craft, and this was the best venue in town for that. More tips for certain. And Natsu allowed some, er, experimentation in form.

“Hi Molly!” Sep Felton then cheerfully called over. “Can’t wait to see the act again tonight.” She walked toward the violet sofa; Misty followed her, still stunned from the revelation. We’re not in Second Life any longer! “Molly, this is Misty. Misty: Molly.”

“Pleased to greet you.” Molly stuck out a glitter covered hand. Misty grasped and shook it. Some of the glint came off on her own hand, which Molly noticed. “Sorry about that. Gotta get some better glitter — more sticky.” She turned her head back to Missus Lemon at the counter. “If *someone* would *pay* me more,” which the bar owner just waved off with an, “Oh, you.”

Dirk Jeter then showed up. Tom Sprout. Derek John Toms and his cousin Billy Budd Grant from out of town. But not out of Orient, importantly. Then Stacy Augman, Pretty Pat Puffcake, Jimmy the Geek, Orange U. Glad, and finally the mayor himself, Struddledoo Lemony Pie Chittles the Third. “Quite a crowd,” Molly whispered to herself while looking around. She seemed to do her best work with more people in the room. More energy, she surmised.

Misty and Sep wedged in between Batty Man and Superduper Guy on the couch, who had also slipped in again from the back door. “Smoking a fag,” whispered Sep to Misty in explanation. “*Anything* goes here.”

Clapping. Molly took the stage, a wonder of shine and glamour. Whistles. This would be a good night for her.

The audio began booming out of the speakers to each side. Clapping grew louder as the motions started, the gyrating. Molly was in superb form.

—–

Misty suddenly remembered the ship.


clue 01 (Red Hill, Blue Mt.)


abc… xyz

“Heaven’s not so bad, sister of mine. As long as we’re over here and *Willy Wonka* stays over there.”

“We use not to be so bitter, mein sister.”

“That’s before we died.”

“Oh… right you are. My bad.”


I’m going to figure this out.


dolls

Geez, what a pathetic prop. Grey intestines look *nothing* like that.

On to the interesting subjects… just around the corner.

Ahh so. An actual living, breathing vein and artery person. Thanks to *us*. And then her sister, but without the internal circulating system. Sorry, Girl 01. The sister — Girl 02 — will have to remain on the ship. But *you*…

—–

“I was a girl with long, spindly legs,” spoke Misty Felton to her new bestest friend Sep Felton back at the latter’s apartment (125 Wall Lane, Wallytown). They hadn’t determined a blood relation, if there was one to be found. To Sep, that left the door wide open to… experimentation.

“Interesting,” Sep replied. “I always imagine horses. It affects people different ways. So I take it you like the dance… oh, silly question; you were gyrating just as hard as I was during the heated moments. But not as hard as Molly, tee hee. A better question would be, what didn’t you like about the dance? Personally, I was a little disappointed that Molly was glitter-free by the end. But it’s a small criticism. How about you?”

Chatty again, Misty thought. But with that nice, pleasant tone. Still probably makes up for it. Yes, it turns out that Molly’s routine involves *one*, count ’em, one dance throughout, but with many variations of themes tried. On and on the music went, a combination of Pink Floyd’s “On the Run” and Judy Garland’s theme song “Over the Rainbow,” as Sep explained. Being from 1920, Misty wasn’t familiar with either. Combined title: “OTR” of course. Born to be mashed up, as Sep also said.

“I can’t think of anything,” Misty offered to Sep’s question, hoping to switch the subject back to the spindly legged girl. And the sister. What *were* their names? It was right on the tip of her tongue.

Just when she was thinking this, Sep leaned over the counter separating them and pecked a kiss on the lips fronting said tongue. It took her breath away. But it wasn’t unpleasant. On the contrary… “You know I may be your great grandmother or something,” she said to put some distance between them again.

“Nope,” spoke Sep. “We ruled all that out. We called mom… we traced our ancestry back 4 generations. Thanks to Uncle Bert as well. (The name) Sep’s just a coincidence.”

Hmm, pondered Misty. She decided to reintroduce the subject bothering her more than anything. She was a little irritated that Sep had skipped over it so quickly. It seemed super important to her. Horses… why did the music invoke horses for her? She decided to say this aloud, then work back to the girl. Sex, or whatever’s coming up, could wait. “Why horses?”

“I’ve always liked them. In a past life I imagine myself being a horse. Tricksy. And with Capricorn my stud lover. We’d gallop the fields to the Misty Mountain, where the lighted ones are found, the beings who lead us down to the big head Brainard in the valley beyond. Altona.”

“That quite a fantasy you have going there,” opined Misty with a slight laugh and shake of the head. Misty Mountain? she then thought. Why *my* name? Again she decided to vocalize her internalizations. “Coincidence about the Misty Mountain?”

“Oh… didn’t think about that. Yes: coincidence. Chance — again.” But suddenly Sep knew that Misty and herself couldn’t be a couple. Because something *had* happened beyond that mountain; down in the valley. She was remembering this now — lingering effects of The Dance. They had both been *absorbed.* Assimilated… yes, that was the word she was looking for.

Misty was thinking the same word at the same time. And realizing the same thing about the couple part. Their minds were synchronized now. Because, actually, they had one mind.

That of Brainard.


Man About Town (7 Stones)

Wheeler’s Mossm’s from Collagesity are two of the many objects that made a successful transition over to 7 Stones on the Nautilus continent. And they’ve grown even more in the meantime(!). Not sure if they can actually breed with each other, but we’ll see. Probably not I’m guessing. They’re freebies after all, that I just stumbled across one night by “accident”. One of those many, many accidents that are adding up to no Big Accident atall. Instead: Big Purpose.

Where else tonight, my friends Kasey and Kasper?

I’m not sure I can dispose of them that easily now. Becoming attached…


2d

Newlyweds Sid and Martha are disappointed that the Harry Potter themed Diagonal Alley is no longer in Corsica’s Shedao sim, but they’re still having a lot of fun tonight at the replacement attraction of “Chedderbarrel: A Day at the Zoo.” Open through May 15! Lots of freebie cutouts too.

Local resident Green Squirrel even has a job there again: playground supervisor, but mostly he just plays in the sand himself. Helps pay the mortgage on his and wife Huma’s Julia House located in Asha next door. You may remember he worked as a Slytherin salesman in the Horizontal Lane part of the Harry Potter setup from Collagesity novel 10. After being unemployed for most of the winter and spring, he’s back at it again. Huma has already spent a good chunk of the first paycheck on a new dishwasher. She’s tired of washing dishes by hand, especially since GS doesn’t help out that much. He said he’d try to remedy the situation and do more work around the house. We’ll see.

Quitting time. Time to get back to the Asha hills and a well cooked meal of seasoned trout and spagetti-o’s. What a wife!

Time for Sid and Martha to head home as well. They and their children Indigo and Ragdoll are the last inhabitants of Collagesity, left behind as caretakers for the Rubi Woods through their PotD organization: Protectors of The Diagonal, with The Diagonal now also known as the Head Line. Not sure if they’re additionally helping preserve the more recently discovered, parallel Heart Line as well. Have to ask them soon…


stars and spots

“No, I will stay in my quaint house in Gormthoog, Baker Bloch. I do not need to live in 7 Stones to be a continuing part of the storyline there. I have done my main responsibility: the destruction of Collagesity. Others are hesitant but I trust instinct and faith completely. That makes me a good destroyer. That makes me Spongeberg the Destroyer. That, and the names of my mother and father obviously.” He tries to crack a smile. I don’t hear Spongeberg joke much, so it was a pleasant surprise.*

—–

Yeah I could hang here for a while, Spongeberg thinks at the entrance. Maybe meet up with that Green Squirrel fellow. Possible candidate for a new destroyer. We need some.

—–

* Earlier, Spongeberg indicated to me that his name is a combo of “parents” Spongebob Squarepants and Austrian composer Arnold Schoenberg.


Spongeberg at home in Gormthoog off Route 14.


granted 01

One last sim before I returned to Misty Mountain, thought Allen Yellow, able to breath without his helmet for lengthy periods now. Just over that bridge over there. Mirromere.

—–

Those reminders again at the other side of the bridge and the entrance to the final sim.

“One last leg,” he says aloud to reassure himself while beginning to walk through a imposing grove of incredibly tall trees. “The Long Walk complete.”

(to be continued)


granted 02

He walked and walked until he came upon a horse.

Approaching it, Allen Y. commented on what a pretty horse it was. “Thank you,” the creature replied in a smooth, feminine voice, surprising the yellow alien.

“A talking horse, eh?” He was facing the beautiful brown animal directly now. “What’s your name, then?”

“Mirabel,” it quickly replied. “Use to be Tricksy. But that’s a horse name. I got a proper *being* name when I came in contact with Brainard. Have you met our God? He often rolls around the valley… like a marble. Sometimes in the hills surrounding the valley, sometimes in the valley.”

“Hmmm. How big is this… marble being?”

“A *God*,” Mirabel neighs. “A collective, some say. But a God still. There’s little debate on that. Hitchcock can tell you. He’s the expert.”

“Hitchcock,” Allen Y. urged. “Another horse?”

Mirabel snorted, then: “Not hardly,” and went back to eating greener grass on the other side of the fence.

Sensing the animal-being was done with him, Allen Y. moved on. “Thank you,” he said in parting.

—–

Soon he came upon a stream, and across it, a cabin in a small grove of more of those tall, tall trees. The abode of Hitchcock.

(to be continued)


granted 03

An old train track encircled the cabin, which struck Allen Y. as odd. Why a train out in the middle of nowhere? he asked himself. Why a circle? He crossed the track, but something seemed different, then. An enclosure, just like when he felt he couldn’t breath and had to wear his hydrogen helmet topped with the far seeing eyes. In fact, he better put it on again just to be safe. So the 2 circles become one here.

“Hello?” he called just inside the track. “Anybody there?”

Sleeveless, muscular Rock Ramby came onto the weather worn porch, stared at him. “RR at your service,” he offered in a low, calm voice. “What can I do you for?”


prep

“Blueberry Hill,” spoke wise bee-person Hucka Doobie at the recently relocated Blue Feather in 7 Stones while pointing at the appropriate place on the depicted map. “Reinforced by Orange(dale) just above. Formerly Blue *Berry* Hill. Hidden on the former Bee County map LINK. But it’s actually Violet… Violet Beauregarde of the Willy Wonka franchise; golden ticket winner. Puffed up like a blueberry at the dessert end of her 3 course gum chew and rolled away by the Oompa Loompas at the end of their song like a giant marble. Violet… a balance between Red (Hill) and Blue (Mountain). Combo, really, like the pigments.”

Hucka turns. “Questions?”


granted 04

Rock Ramby sure knows about trees and plants, thought Allen Y., listening in for the second hour now as the muscular dude babbled on. “The redwoods are a hybrid clone,” he was currently saying. “I got dwarves as well. I created all and everything on this sim,” he reinforced again. “Horses too.”

“Tricksy?” Allen ventured while scratching his chin, testing the water.

“That a horse name?” he came back. “Doesn’t sound like one.”

“Yeah, that’s the one I mentioned meeting on the way over here. All the way back at the first of our, er, conversation.” A long, long way back, he thought to himself. And he hasn’t mentioned this mysterious Hitchcock in a long time either.

“Mirabel,” corrected Rock. “A transer, yeah. Tricksy could have been it.”

“That’s what she said,” Allen held firm. Blasted know-it-all. In truth, Allen Y. had become weary of the chatter about 20 minutes in. He’d heard enough blowhards back on his home planet of Elven.

Just then, what appeared to be jingle bells sounded outside the cabin, breaking the banter. “Cool,” Rock Ramby then beamed. “Sven’s back. Runs a packing industry over in Meat City Misty Mountain, you know. Let’s take a look.” Rock springs up from the chair on his powerful legs and moves toward the front door. He draws his knife just in case. Less spry Allen Y. stands and follows; peers through the opening behind him.

“More veins and arteries for your boy, Rock,” called Sven merrily, landing just behind the circular train track. He threw a bowed package in his direction, which Rock deftly caught, knife still in hand. “Schweet,” he yelped. “Thanks Santa!”

“Sven, please. Merry, um, Something!” he shouted as his jingling reindeer lifted him and his heavily packed sleigh back into the sky. “Merry Something to All!”

Shuffling behind Allen Y. as he watched the sleigh recede. He turned. “I heard my name,” issued a Zeus-like voice.

Where the hell have *you* been hiding,” the yellow alien thought.

(to be continued)


granted 05

“Vein and Artery Boy is a pet nickname. His real name is…”

“Wait,” implored Allen Y. to speaking Rock. “Lemme guess: Hitchcock.”

Rock Ramby and “Vein and Artery Boy” share a sly smile.

“No?” Allen Y. kept pushing. “Am I wrong?”

—–

“Did I ever tell you how Rock got his name?” VA Boy boomed a little later on. The Hitchcock appellation hadn’t been resolved.

“No. Not in the 15 minutes we’ve ever been talking to each other.”

“You haven’t been here before?” VA Boy looked over at Rock with this, who just shook his head back. “This isn’t… *Hitchcock*?”

—–

“*Anyway*, back to the dog.”

“Oooh. *This* story.” Rock settled back in his seat and crossed his hands behind his head. He seemed to be preparing himself for a long one; VA Boy was about as chatty as Rock, and almost as conceited, it appeared. But — strangely to Allen Y. — they *complemented* each other, as if Allen Y. understood now how each formed the way they did. In some couples it is done by balancing weaknesses with strengths. In this case, it was *accenting* those. They’d been so boastful to each other down through the years now, apparently, that it had become a kind of refined game or ritual. And now, Allen Y. sensed, they were stuck in these patterns, unable to really converse successfully to anyone else. It was an odd realization. But — he understood — there was a deeper mystery to it still which everything pivoted around. Hitchcock. A *game*, yes. He would soon learn the surface name for that game. And it wasn’t Hitchcock.

—–

Exactly where Santa Sven disappeared as a point in the sky, another came. Was this Hitchcock? We’ll see!

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2019 EARLY”!


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