Collagesity 2019 Middle 02


pyramids

Agents 25 and 41. Let the games begin, I suppose.

Agent 52 and Messed Up, who manifests at various points in the maze and offers tips for money. “The far side wall is transparent. That’ll be 50 lindens.”

Agents 49, 62, and 20. Rare conjunction of 3; all are trapped and stymied at the moment.

Agents 96 and 69.

Agents 24 and 55, just before the latter’s head was sliced off and his eyes were pecked out. What a thing to have to witness!

End of the road for Agent 29?

Hardly.

(to be continued?)


Preston

“Hold on Small Robin. We’re going around some curves now.”

“Wheeeeee…”

“*No* Big Baby Jane. Don’t reach into the tv for the people; I told you. Do you want another hit from my zapper gun? I can *doo* that.”

“Ka-BLAM!”

“WH-AA-AAAAAAAA!!”

“Pres-TONN!!!”


X-ed out

Bob, Fred, Ethel, Pat, Squirm, and Poochie lived on Sandpiper Drive atop a bank overlooking Maebaleia’s seemingly deepest sinkhole. Called Sink X, because it was the 10th found and also, perhaps — especially long term — the most mysterious and relevant to our present story.

Also on the lip of the sinkhole was the town itself: Pipersville, named after the same avatar that founded Sandpiper Court a little later on. So the court and its 3 houses can be seen as a type of suburb of the town in my mind. Sink X links them together, large to small.

I’ve changed my mind. Let’s start in town instead. Cindy A., Jim A., and Todd A. conglomerate at a popular Pipersville watering hole.

Some nights they discuss this very subject: the Maebaleia sinkholes; which one is most mysterious; which one is even the deepest; and, sometimes, on the darkest of nights, they talk about the Crabwoo disaster associated with the 13th and last one. Some try to relegate that particular sink to a bowl, a Super Bowl they grant, but still a bowl and not a sink proper. A professor of Sinkology at a nearby university came in one evening and attempted to straighten out each and every one of them while downing pint after pint of delicious, locally brewed Stigman’s Quarterly, an IPA with an alcohol content of 11.6. Almost wine strength. Well, he looked at each and every one of them in the eye and stated, plain and clear as he could, that Satori, aka Maebaleia — and he straightened them out on the *name* of the continent as well — no, this *Satori* contains no sinks proper and that only Jeogeot (where he was born and raised, by no coincidence) and Corsica contained legitimate sinkholes, like the wide, deep Chasm Deep for the latter and, obviously, the most famous sink of all, Big Sink, for Jeogeot. “These depressions in *your* continent are either too shallow” — and he gave the stereotypical Finsteraahorn-Dammastock example here — “or too close to the coast to count. Like this so-called Sink X.” These were fighting words, and indeed Professor Suckaluck was beat to a pulp later that night by town thugs and sink fanatics alike, then tossed over the edge of town, eventually rolling and rolling and then resting, dead as a doorknob, at the bottom of the sinkhole he had earlier dismissed as irrelevant and mistermed. Certainly relevant to him now.


re-creation: death of Professor Suckaluck.


1/2 Japanese

Big Wanda knew one thing and one thing well.

She wasn’t going back to Jael.

—–

Here’s the deal so far…

I think this Collagesity novel 14, this “Collagesity 2019 Middle” officially (I suppose), is all about the continent of Maebaleia, aka Satori. Here’s an article concerning the continent from the Second Life wiki…

http://wiki.secondlife.com/wiki/Satori

… and I’ll then quote some appropriate material from this informative “Second Life Tourist Blog” entry about the name origin:

http://thesecondlifetourist.blogspot.com/2016/09/know-mainland-satori.html

Satori was the fourth continent created in Second Life, after Sansar, Heterocera, and Jeogeot, and the first of the ‘eastern’ continents. It was started in February 2007 and the land portion was finished on June 18th of the same year. I have read that it was originally called Maebaleia (In Portuguese “Mae” is ‘Mother’ and “baleia” is ‘whale’, so Maebaleia apparently means “Mother Whale”) and you will see it listed as both “Satori” and “Maebaleia”. If you look at the map, it is easy to imagine a whale with a calf.

Some people thought that “Maebaleia” was too hard to spell, and after a vote on the old SL forums the name was changed to “Satori”. One meaning of “Satori” is “enlightenment”. It has also been called the “Asian” or the “Japanese” continent, and the frequent signboards echo an eastern style theme.

In 2010, mainland explorer Dahlia Jayaram flew a balloon over Maebaleia/Satori and then created this interesting flip book viewable on Youtube…

… which I’m going to study in more detail later. Just skimming through it now, I recognized a couple of virtual places that factor into *my* more lengthy exploration of the continent down through the years now, but, still, are no longer in existence. The thing about any mainland travelogue is that it quickly becomes obsolete due to the mutability of Second Life itself, plus the fact that the continents are severely depopulated in comparison to the golden or salad days, peaking at around 2007, say.

—–

Hmm. A horse in the middle of Horsa, or at least an *ass*.

This is maybe where we can hide out next.

—–

And I’m up to page 12 now…


psychopath

“So what do you think?”

“Nice. Elements of TILE. This will do. For a while,” she tacked on.

“Of course.” Big Wanda shifted her sturdy legs. “You know you didn’t have to shoot that girl. She wasn’t doing anything but doing her job.”

“I know.” Little Oakley Annie waved her heavily used revolver in the air with this. “I just didn’t like the way she talked. Too nasal.”

“You shot her in the *nose*. You didn’t have to do that.”

“She lived. In fact, she’s right over there at the coffee shop. She came with me. We made up while you’ve been away scouting for a new place. I bought her a new nose. Plastic. New place; new nose.”

Recalling the awful scene, a surprised Big Wanda looked away from Lake Como, searching for the pot peddling girl they’d met in Rethymno behind them. No luck. Instead, Little Oakley Annie and her gun pointed kind of toward her own nose dominated the view. “You do believe me?”

“Umm. Of course, Little Oakley… Annie.”

“Because if you *didn’t*…” Annie positioned her gun more threateningly, the face obviously a target now.

“Of course I believe you,” Big Wanda reinforced, starting to sweat.

Little Oakley Annie then threw herself back on the rainbow colored recliner, laughing. “Because I didn’t… she’s dead.”

Big Wanda gathered her legs under her again. “Oh.”

“Yeah, that face was pizza after I got finished with it. Which reminds me… I’m starved. Any place to eat around here? I’ve had enough coffee.”

Obviously, though Big Wanda, but dare not say it aloud at this moment. Must remember not to buy LOA any 4 shot espressos again. Nor talk in a nasal way in any shape or form. Talk through the mouth, talk through the mouth, talk through the mouth…


Sweet Alice and Ben Bolt

He offered her a rose and promised he was going to get her out of this backwater place.

But for right now, they were just off the map.


Gno King

Sweet Alice’s father was King Null, obviously conceived before he became all jigsaw-y and stuff and was known merely as Richard (or Ricardo to some). This was the fault of Bishop, his closest companion now that the Queen was dead. Long live Queen Mae, fairest in the land, protector of the realm, instigator of none. But the Bishop — different alligator altogether. A crocogator, even. He pulled a Brutus on Caesar; took away his humanity; made him like he was. Sometimes likes attract as well, and this is the case here. King Null: only his now separated body pieces know the full picture. Let’s listen in…

“Move over,” Bishop commanded. “You’re in the center again.”

Typical.


a wrinkle in time

The Lion constellation. I’m missing something! I was just somewhere else. Remember. *Remember*.

—–

I’m remembering.

Aries, Sagittarius… Leo.

What’s under the rug? What’s this all about really?

Pieces? Puzzles?

I’m tired. I’m going to rest. The continent can wait. I’m going to bed.

—–

“Pres-TONN!!!”


real world

“The jellyfish has eaten the lion.”

“You need to STOP it, Preston.”

He stirred his spoon randomly in his bowl. “Mama. Can I go out? I know it’s raining…”

“Preston. You can go out when it stops raining. This afternoon sometime. Now eat your cereal. I have to go to the women’s club today and you have to look after your little sister Robin.”

“Awwww.”

“No ‘awww’s, young man. Suck it up and eat the cereal.”

Cereal, he suddenly thought. Circles! Cereal circles. Two of them. But where? How? The jellyfish ate the lion.

“Spongebob Squarepants” was playing on the tv. Robin’s favorite show. Baby Jane was too little to have a favorite show. But of course Jane would go with mama. Too small for him to take care of. But Robin — unfortunately — was just big enough now. He had a new responsibility and he didn’t like it.

But the dreams. He could always withdraw into the dreams when things get boring here. Robin is small — *tiny*. She’s riding on the edge of a car with a madman at the helm, spinning and turning and spinning and turning. She wears a big R on her blouse. She’s happy, carefree. ‘Wheeeee!’ But then there’s the giant baby reaching into the tv, grabbing her off the car’s edge like King Kong to Fae Ray. Did I get those names right? He’d watched that movie last year. Empire State Building. He wants to go visit now. See where the monkey hung off the side of the building. Visit the top where he made his final stand against the fleet of attacking airplanes. *He* is King Kong. He’s being attacked from all sides, “wrrr! wrrr! wrrRR!!”

“Pres-TONN!!!”


new world order

As you can see, Commander Blue Bear Y, this so-called *Real* World is interfering with our examination of the continent. In my opinion, it must be *destroyed*. What say you, Preston Weston of the Far Reaches?”

“I can do it right now with my zapper gun. Ka-BLAM!”

“No,” spoke Blue Bear Y in a calmer, rational voice between them. “Both can co-exist in the same space with each other. We are at the ‘N’, which was always suppose to be.” He points upward, toward the Earth. “Continents there, too. South America, Africa, Eurasia, some others I can’t remember. Austria I believe.”

“Ka-POW!” Preston Weston of the Far Reaches emphasizes.

“No,” repeats the commander, motioning for PWotFR to lower his weapon of mass destruction. “We will instead superimpose the two.” He looks upward again. “Let’s see, Africa corresponds more to the continent we are examining.” He keeps looking at the spinning sphere. “No, I believe South America would be a better match.”

“Africa,” states Preston Weston. “Let me at ’em.”

“If I may interject,” requests King Null, in pieces himself and not fully conscious of what he was before, “I’d say (the Real World) is backwards from the Second one we are currently trapped in — er existing in.”

“Trapped??” asks Preston Weston, aiming his gun at nothing now.

“No, that was a slip. Excuse me Lord Commander Blue Bear Y. I must check on the chicken. It should be almost broiled by now.”

“Of course,” Blue Bear Y said in that calm, cool voice of his. So compact and educated he was. Someday… someday…

Your Mama entered the command room, Raggy Too in tow. “Your Papa should be arriving any minute Preston. Why – aren’t – you – DRESSED??”


Option 2

“Gee, dad. You’re driving especially fast today. Um…”

“You just hold onto that lime, son. That’s an important part of your school presentation today.”

“I know,” he recites indifferently. “World of Lemon; Lime World. Contrast between the two. Blah blah blah, pheh.”

“Hold on, son. Another curve. Wheeeee!”

“Gosh dad, your cap blew off on that one. And your hair’s all poofed up and spiky too.”πŸ‘

“Never mind that, son.” SCREEEEEEECH. “We’re here. “Rooster Springs Backwoods Middle School. Where you’re in the middle…”

“I know, I know,” Preston recites mechanically again in the pause. “… which is (and his dad joins in here) unfortunately in the way.”

Preston gets out, peers cautiously at the school front door for potential allies and foes. “See you soon, kid.” Then he was gone in a whirlwind of burnt rubber and skid marks.


Potential new enemy Bruce Bulkhead. Probably is.


seeds

They both wanted a role, and they were a natural pair. Reintroducing to the reader or readers: Tealy and Tillie. Combined: TILY.

They lived here:

—–

“Perfect day isn’t it Tillie.”

“It always is Tealy.”


born seekers

When Tillie was feeling a little gaseous (which was fairly often), she’d sometimes go down to this bench by the water’s edge so as not to bother Tealy, who was always hard at work around the cottage doing house chores, gardening, and not what. Tillie was lazier by nature, a dreamer. She’d see things in the Rubisea water. Nymphs sometimes. Fish — but that was just because there were fish in the lake. Then a sea monster one time, but she was on some weird kind of dope. She said it was for her stomach, but really it fell under recreational usage. She’d taken the same stuff 4 times now, and decided to stop when the water and the accompanying feeder stream (now just a waterfall, where in past times it was a full stream) turned blood red. Tasted like blood too after she dared to dab a tiny bit on her tongue. Rubisea — the name comes from ruby, like the ruby color of blood. Nasty Branch was the name of the feeder stream. She’d merely revealed the past behind the present through the drug. But no more.

She was feeling better now. She would return to the house and help Tealy with whatever he was doing at the moment. They were a team, but sometimes Tillie had to do her own thing for a while, drugs included. Tealy had never taken drugs, but he drank like a drunken sailor. So they each had their vices. Oh, and Tealy flew airplanes. He was an ace of the First World-Wide Web War (WWWWI).

“Hand me that (hand) spade please, Tillie,” a drunken Tealy requested to his partner after she reentered their home. “I have a feeling that diamond is there for the taking today.” Oh, and he was a prospector of sorts. Or at least for one particular mineral, a gem he’d personally named Jim. “Gotta go dig for Jim,” he might say randomly during any period of intoxication. “Jim’s beckoning me today; I can feel it in my heart.” He even started a Jim Club composed only of himself, but, formerly, Tillie. For she admitted — probably when she was on some kind of dope, because she would never be so insensitive straight — that Jim was imaginary, and represented his own, lost soul. Member no more.


Drinking beer and digging for Jim out behind the garden.

(to be continued?)


elements

Amos Truth kept making his sacks for the seed and trying to ignore the heat.

The local fire extinguishers had long run dry.

The pineapple forest remained safe for now thanks to the intermediary Tall House.

This side of Route 8 was on fire.

“Hurry up, Brother Gabby. Not much more time for gathering.”

“I hear ya, Brother Amos. I hear ya loud and clear.”

Gabby then goes on to repeat the very long story about how Earth had already taken over the town across the road, ending with, “Where’s Air? Where’s Water? pheh. Only a matter of time if you ask me.”

In town, Betty, Carolyn, Marilyn, and Boop tried to keep soiled stains out of their clothes to no avail.

Toppsity was pretty much inundated.


Niagara

“Well Gabby,” requested Brother Amos, “What do you see? Unfurl the whole long, boring story of how we got here and where we’re going.”

“Yeah,” exclaimed Marilyn in her breathy, ditzy way. “The fire is, *raging* out of con-trol; the earth is, *swamping* us alll…”

“I’m seeing something,” gabbed Gabby suddenly. “2 more; 4 total. A teal figure. Some kind of… creature. And the 4 colored clown. Um, *stumpy*, not as tall as a normal person. But much larger than the creature still.” He pulled his white face away from the scrying ball. “A possum I’m concluding. A clown and a possum.”

“*That’s* our, *fu-ture*?” cooed Marilyn. Warhole across the way pounded one iron fist into another, obviously displeased. “Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn,” he monotoned. “Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn… Marilyn.”


connection

“I don’t think the creature was a possum,” Gabby modified later in after-vision shocks. “Nor was it a cat named Peepee. Something else. Something in our future.”

“Go on,” urged Brother Amos, back to gathering as if his life depended on it. Because it did.

“I’m seeing… I’m seeing…” He briefly pulled up from his own gathering position. “*Seed*.”

—–

“Tillie, we’re out of seed. Time to call Grasslands again.”

“Okay,” the 4 colored clown replies from the garden. “I’ll ring them up as soon as I finish weeding this row.” As if my life depended on it, she then thought. Strange — why did I think that?


end of brown

Somebody should be here.

—–

Goodbye shack. For now.

Grasslands here we come.


And yet she remains on the sandy part.


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